Cry beloved Africa!

[siger]

A crazy attempt at Poetry.........


Can a nation dream of things that never were,
Or see visions and shadows that never passed,
Can peoples sing the songs of heroes gone,
and walk with pride while bound to stone,
why does the african cry and wail,
when fate has him writ as 'born to fail.'


is Egypt a myth; and Lybia too,
and Sheba; and nubia; timbuktu,
Can the sons of pharoahs and seed of kings,
be fated for darkness, to fly without wings,
Yet heroes were born, valiant and strong,
To break the chains of slavery, to shatter the stone.


Foundations shook, and the winds were tamed,
As the african stood and made his claim,
'Independence!' he cried, 'Freedom and Equality,'
'From this blessed day, until the end of eternity!'
There, the sun bowed; and the silent waters thought;
That the son of Africa was akin to the gods.


'So; why cry beloved Africa? Has myth not been proved legend?'
'Does the world not know the paths that were taken,'
Tis true that the victor sang when victory he held,
But it is long since laughter has turned to wails,
For the sons of heros are not but merchants of slaves,
For they had sold the soul of Africa, 'ere their father's were dead.


Let me cry, beloved Africa.

[siger]

I wrote this as an prologue of sorts, something to show the history of mother africa.

It was here in Africa, that civilisation was born, we had Egypt, Hannibal and the Libyians, we had Memnon and the Ethiopians, the Phoenincians of Tyre were said to be of african origin. Even below the sahara, there were the Sareans, the Nubians and others whose past has been forgotten
We were a proud people.

Then came the darkness. The fall of the African, the great nations fell, Sheba vanished, the Chwezi of Uganda are said to have returned to the heavens. After that, while wewallowed on the mud of our own despair, relentlessly looking for a rope that would raise us back to our old selves, the slave ships came sailing. We were bound like animals, to this day we still are, and nations grew fat of the fruits of our labour.

But even when they took away our freedom, our children, our food, our dreams, there was that which they could not take. Our hope. Valour still sat in the heart of the african, and many stood to be counted. Courage was stirred, defiance rose, and the african asked for his due. We owe our lives, yes; our lives, to men we never saw. Kimathi of Kenya, Nkurumah of Ghana, Mandela and de Clerk down south. These rose to take the place of the pharoahs and kings.


But fathers cannot be blamed for the crimes of their fathers. What was won was political freedom. It was never meant to be the climax of the African revolution. It was the beginnig of African awakening. But those to whom the baton was handed, were of such short sight, they not only failed to root for socio-economic independence, but they handed back the little political freedom our blood had paid for (those debts!). They sent Africa rite back to slumber...............

[Poetic_Princess]

Your attempt a poetry in ur first post was a very good attempt i must say, from my opionon it holds a lot, and so much was put into good effort keep it up, if you like you can post in our Poetry section here on the forum.