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Poetry Archives | Page 2 of 17 | Poems And Art Society Afriqa


HopeLifePoetrySpoken Word


Raise the platform in the alley

And let’s conduct a campaign rally

Let’s promise them a heaven amidst the storms

Let’s ensure something new, something out of the norm

Draft a new Propaganda

Dubbed “the agenda for a prosperous Africa”

Let us preach their utmost interest

And place it above every existing nest

Yes! yes!, that is what politicians Promises us;

Several non-existing development.

Yet we know what they truly meant

That all was for their Selfish interest

Full of greed and selfishness

Trading our welfare as if their own business

Corrupting the institutions

Polluting the populations

Trading our long lasting peace

With argument, war and corrupt practices just for a silver piece.

Advancing the knowledge gained from our books

Just for looting our resources for their shooting boots.

Oh Mama Africa

Till when will your cries be heard?!

Till when will your smiles be spread!?

Let’s raise the platform again

This time no falsehoods and selfish gains

This time let’s consider the natives livelihoods and pain

Let’s practise what we preach

And make every resource and opportunity get to everyone’s reach

Let’s have love for all and hate for none

And Africa will surely unite as one.


by DaCosta de Poet😍

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AudioPoetrySpoken Word

That One

I gave my all
Got nothing at all
Not a call
Or even a ball

I waited for years
Took all that bears
And even all the fears
But it ended in tears

I lost my heart
After all the art
Though I played my part
I was pierced with a dart

I tried
I pried
I cried
It dried

I bought
I fought
I thought
I sought

My feelings were disrespected
My emotions were dissected
My mood was dilated
And my heart was diluted

I no longer have that One
That special some One
That sweet, sugary One
Has been handed over to some One.

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We know say for some of us
Na for ghetto dem born us
Na for ghetto we go school
The school we go self no be first class
Na for ghetto we dey grow up
But e no mean say We no go make am.

We know say for some of us
Our Papa no be minister
Our Papa no be millionaire
E fit be say some of us no get Papa self
But e sure for us, we go make am
So far baba God dey with us.

We know say for some of us
Na we hustle pay our school fees
We no say even connection we no get
Say we reach where we reach today
Na we hustle am out
But the thing be say, God dey with us

We know say for some of us
We no get fine house to live
we no get better motor
But e sure for us say
One day this hustle go pay
God no go shame us at all.


By Linda Okafor 🇳🇬
Zealous Poetess ✨

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In it I take my joy.
Not an ordinary appellation,
It took a different twist,
Sabon but never related
In the infancy of dawn,
I stepped into oozing dew
Blanketed by the droplets
Which fest on my nimble foot

Oh! my ankles weren’t left out
The blades of grass axed them
Like a butcher’s chopping board
The bijoux of cow dung crowded
A meandered path
Uncertain of what hide under
A callused darkness of water and mud.

I wobbled faster than a dodged bird,
Dangled closely to a shooting pellets And hopped sharper than a toad,
Distancing my wafted feet
from seated lakes,
On a middle path.
But why should I snailed ponds
Or Mountains, Blades of grass,
Endure the bloodstains to a Joy?

I got to the four squared edifice
Wishwashed in yellowish oil,
Candying in with dawn timberness.
It’s not an ordinary joy.
From above, it stooped into my palm,
Caressing my soul, body and mind.
It’s a Joy of different order.


Al Latif Kambonaang.

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Unaware of the mistake that brought her grief and sorrow

She was rejected by those who love her

Her mind like balloon garland of many thoughts

Confusion trails her

The scar is anew in mind’s screen

And her pillow is wet all night


Grief has kept on knocking on her door

Anxiety has torn her clothes

And my heart is ripped apart

Nobody to share her broken heart with

Wedding cord is unheld

And the cordless bond had pain in its citrus juice


No blessing is tied to this cord

And the shame I dwell in steadily keeps my heart to the kids unborn

Pregnancy out of wedlock, a taboo in her clan

She toiled all day in bulged belly

Born into a land of flesh, the fetus doubled

The pain of raising the kids have stiffened her heart


She sleeps and her heart’s awake

Who will raise the kids with her?

Agonized by her mistake

And driven out in the second trimester

In cold and no roof over her

She toiled to feed the joy

That gladdens her heart


If her parents were alive

Fate would have smiled

Mother’s love would be like the chess queen protecting the chess Kings unborn

Hatred surged in the heart of those who should have loved

How would she feed the kids?

Misery piles up in her heart


The cross l bear is to care for my kids

My womb was a house that kept them warmth

There is no roof to keep them warmth again

Belly buttons tended in ignorance

The love of my kids is an undying flower

That grows in my thought

I love my kids with all heart

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Journey of life

“Obra Akwantuo”

An episode that man cannot fully understand

A complexity yet a four letter word that never lands.

The journey of life begins right from the onset of birth.

The very anticipating moment when one breathe the first breath.

And right from infancy even before your toothing.

Life started with you through your crawling till dying.

Like the blooming of a flower till it’s withering

Life is a journey with it’s destination so hard to determine.

Full of mixed events and happenings.

And seems more of science yet needs working like math.

The journey of life is without a path but of many routes.

Sometimes one has to virtually trace every happenings to one’s root.

For it was once wisphered that what happened to your father or mother may happen to you.

Be it generational curses or blessings which you may not even have a clue.

The journey of Life has become a race for many.

Copying others lifestyle and forgetting life is not a symphony or harmony

Or a chorus meant to be chanted together.

“Obra Akwantuo ne obra anamontuo eny3 p3”

Yes! the journey of life has a distinct note and key altogether.

It gives diverse favourable opportunities to everyone.

And worse and unpleasant experiences to the unlucky one.

Situations present to our nest rigid prizes

For the journey of life itself is of a fall and a rise.

Life leaves behind in our dark caves some wonderful memories

For it’s journey is an unforgettable adventure, coupled with experiences and stories

Full of trials, regrets and enjoyable moments

Life teaches us lessons as if we are it’s student.

Though death is the bus stop to the journey of life

Yet we believe in a next life to encounter where there’s no strife
“Obra twa owuo de3 nanso y3 pre daaa nkwa”

And with God in your journey, “daa nkwa no wobefa no kwa


DaCosta de poet.

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Childhood memories are like the sun bird and the sweet nectar

The memory is a pollinator that defines our youth

As a young child, barefooted I trekked to fetch the happiness from the stream

And the barrel at home must be filled

Unless mum would frown at me

Mum would call my name to tease the forest birds

Her voice trails the heart of the forest in echoes

And I would know she has returned from where she sells


Childhood memories are like the ocean, it never dries

How we ran and jumped in the rain

With undiluted joy in our hearts

How we hunted for grasshoppers

Chased the little pretty birds

To get hold of them, dallied at the rolling of tyres

Our motor we’d call it

In those days, joy had no option than to dwell in our hearts


Our slates, we throw aside

When we return from school

No extra tutors, yet we passed with ease

With catapult round my neck

I trekked distance in the bush to hunt the games that brought me joy

Joy had no option than to dwell in our hearts

We had pictures, we threw to the wall in a game

The nearest to the wall is paid a picture

And we feel like it is money in our hands


In unison, we built houses with palm fronds

Gathered gravels and stones to cook delicacies

As we thought

Making contributions of the condiments

Our kites fly like birds in the air

And our joy knew no bound at all

In that union, there was a strong bond

The love was there

To harm one another existed not in our lexicon



By Linda Okafor and Dim lfeanyichukwu

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Colonial squirms, masters from Europe

Self styled Lord of colonialism

Queen head of a fraudulent country called nigger area

Abysmally created without indigenous consent


Blood flows in your creation

And you are quiet O Britain

Your fraud in West Africa is a shelter of blood

And blood roams in the Savannah

Power and greed prompted your fraud

And you brought war to our peaceful villages

Donkey’s years after, death still knocks our doors


Your quietness speaks volume And the volume is loud enough to be heard

The shithole is yours

The hellhole is your deed

Lord Fredrick Lugard is the name on our lips each time we die

Britain, the name we call when we are maimed and killed

Does British citizens die this way?


Amalgamation was fraudulent

Maiming is our name

Bloodletting is our middle name

And death our surname

Britain is our accuser

And our bodies are in bits

Our blood is spelt in your name O Britain


Our heart is ripped

And the world observes a golden silence

Unending sorrow is what we get

When will happiness return to Biafra, where the sun rises?

Three million died from your weapons to keep the fraud O Britain

And yet death still hovers above us

It is only freedom, we crave or we die in the hollow of your silence

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