Sing Me...
Sing me songs of far and beyond
amplifying the diversity in each beat
making my African hips sway
back and forth
or sluggishly
as persuaded by the rhythm.
Sing me the songs that crept and kept
our ancestors working in fields
long hours under harsh elements
undeterred by the pain
embed in their lash scars
laying plainly beneath
their scanty garments.
Sing me the songs of dying pirates
fighting amongst themselves
in the middle of the sea
while balancing
on angry ocean waves
with blood craving blades
unafraid of their foreseen death
the undenied last breath.
Sing me the songs of war and famine
maybe the lyrics will teach me
something about drying
the tears of a mother crying
over the body of her young son
felled over his dialect
through a word
from the same men that
took away his food.
CC0/Pixabay.
Thank you for coming.
I love it this one, trickled down to my roots that connect me back to the Motherland. It causes me to reminisce on one of the first songs I wrote during Mandela's incarceration called Apartheid Cry. Sometimes our poems may not be pretty and bright yet they speak so loudly the truth.
I believe we were gifted with the capability to scribe so that we can talk about such pain. I am just glad people relate to mine.
Lively crafted piece of indentity, inscribed in words :) . Upvoting!
Thank you :) I believe we are all made up of words!
Ah, surely! Not just we are all made up of words. We are also inhabitating rather languages than countries. We are negotiating ourselves in and through words :) . Beside, it is deeply fascinating topic to discuss.
I blame you for infecting me with the poetry bug
Welcome to my world :)
I love this. I can feel my blood calling, and the blood of my people answering.
I love it when you compliment my work because I somehow look up to your work. Thank you :)
This is called pure poetry . A poetry whose words speak out loud....
Wonderful..
Hash-tag
Thanks.