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25912 Posts in 9968 Topics by 982 Members Latest Member: - Ferguson Most online today: 23 (July 03, 2005, 06:25:30 PM)
+  Africa Speaks Reasoning Forum
| |-+  Poetry (Moderators: Tyehimba, leslie)
| | |-+  i hear ya calling
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Author Topic: i hear ya calling  (Read 27946 times)
Full Member
Posts: 316

« on: May 19, 2006, 01:29:47 PM »

momma afrika i hear ya calling,
i hear ta calling momma afrika,
i hear the drum beats of the
dogon elders,
i hear the chant of the zulus,
i hear ya calling momma afrika
let the trumpet sound,
i hear ya calling and asking us
afrikans whatcha yall gonna do,
it is one big scream and shout for freedom

SIGER continues brother Beam
Junior Member
Posts: 142

« Reply #1 on: May 20, 2006, 08:52:52 AM »

Do you remember,
Oh! Forgotten brother,
The warm African sun, the great orb yonder,
Or running with the stream, enchanting as dream,
how the willow bird would chirp,
and coo with bliss.

Do you hear the lost voices, and burnd out fires
the crackle of wood in the evening pyres,
The stories of the old, of monsters and heros,
And how they tagged at our hearts, us and all fellows,


We look neither left nor right, but forward.
Full Member
Posts: 417


« Reply #2 on: May 20, 2006, 03:24:19 PM »

Junior Member
Posts: 142

« Reply #3 on: May 22, 2006, 03:49:08 AM »

Remember the sweet fruit of the plain,
While we tendered the cattle, our clan's true wealth,
twas with pride that we sang under the sycamore shade,
or played swords with cattle sticks, with dreams to be men.

Then came the trials, the haunting games,
THe becoming of men, the endurance of pain,
THe long cold nights, in the greying woods,
with naught but a spear, and ash for food.

Dreams were shattered and life was found,
to some the death of ambition, to others the bitter crown,
For when the tasks were known and done, some stood on the fools' mound.
And the rest of us, all taunt and glad, raised spears to claim our ground.

AS boys we entered the forbiding forest, as men we crossed the stream,
To take the lands bestowed on us, and live out all our dreams,
We took our place in the council of men, and stabbed the soil to speak,
And when the battle cry was yelled, we fought for the God's creek.



We look neither left nor right, but forward.
Service Member
Posts: 2063

« Reply #4 on: May 23, 2006, 07:26:35 AM »

Peace my brothers, the ancestors have blessed you! That's beautiful poetry!  Beam


We should first show solidarity with each other. We are Africans. We are black. Our first priority is ourselves.
Full Member
Posts: 316

« Reply #5 on: May 25, 2006, 12:05:22 PM »

i remember...
we the original people
the hue manis,
antu and muntu,
 i remember,
resting by the baob tree,
i remember the lions of afrika,
wonder where the lions are,
the water,that flows from the nile
the basin from ancient egypt,
washs the land,
and brings memory of our
ancient ancestors,
i remember,,,
indeed oh how i remember
queen nefertiti,
queen nzingah,
queen hasheput,
queen sheba

i remember tutakhanmum
i remember ankhenatum,
 and imhotep...

i hear ya calling momma afrika,
the calls of our ancestors,
kwame nkhruma,
sekou toure,
kwame ture,
almicar cabral,
malcom x

i remember hugh masekela singing
the lion neva lies the the lion neva sleeps
i remember the attica rebellion
and how blood washed the land.
i hear the ancestors calling...
Junior Member
Posts: 142

« Reply #6 on: June 17, 2006, 10:55:36 AM »

Remember the times,
The sweet and sour rhymes,
the whistle of the flute, the beating of drums,
'hear! they blow the horn! come pass the rum.
The dances by the fire, at the season's turn.

Remember the women, the beautiful women,
bronze of skin, with eyes that glisten,
they sway to the beat, seductive and slow,
watch how they sway, in the fire's glow.

do you hear them call, list' to their song,
as they chase off the sun, and the rains they call.
tis a bitter rhyme, alll sad and cold.
For the sun has passed, and the thunder-drums roar.

The rains will come.........

We look neither left nor right, but forward.
Full Member
Posts: 316

« Reply #7 on: June 19, 2006, 03:59:12 PM »

and the rain will come
wash the land
and fertilize the soil,
 we will work and haverst,
and believe me,
no food
will go to spoil,

i remember,
when the village drummed
to late nights
to scare the spirits that bothered the villagers
remember old tales of afrika
that our ancestors passed on from generation to generation,
all this knowledge was gone,when we were in the slave plantations.
Junior Member
Posts: 142

« Reply #8 on: June 23, 2006, 10:36:57 AM »

then hear my call, forgotten brother,
tis the voice of age, whisp' of the ancestor,
tis a tale of our past, child of sugar fields,
your history and mine, as told by the hills.

We look neither left nor right, but forward.
Junior Member
Posts: 142

« Reply #9 on: August 31, 2006, 02:48:46 AM »

do you hear the thunder drums roar,
do you feel the tempest strong,
'hear! Hear! ' the fury of gods,
list all men to the ancestor's voice.

You claim you have heard the voice of old,
then the spite of your fathers you will atone,
where if the African, the child of bronze,
Who is the Arkhan, whose pride is lost,
when will they stand , tall as men,
they walk bent low, these sons of slaves.

Hear them speak, the gods forbid,
tis not enough to forget their father's speech,
yet now they string up their slaver's words,
and talk with ambient pipe on tongue.

We look neither left nor right, but forward.
Junior Member
Posts: 142

« Reply #10 on: September 06, 2006, 02:34:54 PM »

i dreamt a dream one summer's eve,
i had a haunting one night,
a dream so vivid there was no reprieve,
a walk in the blinding light.

there i was on the 'ishaka plain,
with spear and staff at hip,
the young sun at my back, to journey was the task,
a king's message i had on lip,

over the hills and mountains tall,
through bog and smoke, i run and rolled,
in alien land i held my path,
for nothing can stem the old king's wrath,

i journeyed west, from rwenzori's crown,
my feet like wings flew o'er ground,
through the vines of the congc, and waters found,
to the western coasts i was bound,

for the ships sailed west, so the elders say,
so west i had found my way,
by light and night, i could not delay,
the Return of the Lost was at bay.

The lost, my self, i had never seen,
tis seasons and a day since the era of grief,
when the house of Africa the pretender tore,
for me it was lore.

Yet i here am on the western cliffs,
looking out o'ver deep blue sea,
none have returned, the king's word to heed,
so i shout into the wind.

'Mwishe, Mwishe, mu'garuke' yo,
 Omugabe ya'beta, mwishe ne'nshura,
Mu'garuke, Mu'garuke, mbwenu.'

I turn, homeward bound, my task is done,
let the wind carry my chore,
and if they shall heed the elder's call,
then hope shall be restrored.

We look neither left nor right, but forward.
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