Best Senegal Poems
This Medusa had no power to turn us into stone
but when she ran aground over Poseidon's throne
his anger stirred, and into the sea the crew was flung.
On a raft urgently built of salvaged timbers we clung.
A hundred and more escaped before the frigate sunk
and after four days adrift, our number had shrunk.
With naught but salted sea to sate our massive thirst
I vowed not to give in. I swore I'd not be the first
to yield to temptation and drink myself to death
though feverish from the intensity of the sun's breath.
On the eighth day, hunger turned men into savages,
feasting on flesh in a moment of rapacious ravages.
Bloated bodies bobbled like apples off Africa's coast.
I contemplated my fate to become what I dreaded most-
being tossed off the raft, into a shark's clamping jaws.
To survive, no one had agreed to abide by man's laws.
I'll not forget the look of fear in the eyes of others,
sailors who once proudly called themselves 'brothers.'
Each of us clutched and clawed for an inch of the raft.
The feeble ones cackled as though they'd gone daft.
Arms and legs entangled among the living and dead,
as an alabaster corpse pillowed a sun-blistered head.
The demented swam away, flailing arms in roiling waves
until they perished in the depths of their turbid graves.
Alas the day, two weeks in, a ship sighted on the horizon.
Fifteen survivors with charred skin, lean and wizened
rescued from death's grip in a morbid human experience.
Men who'd given up on hoping for a timely deliverance,
their bodies emaciated, and their clothing, threadbare,
destined to relive the catastrophe in gruesome nightmare.
August 4th 2022
2022 Marathon mile 11 Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
NOTE: In June 1816, the French frigate Medusa, ran aground off the coast of Senegal. Because of a shortage of lifeboats, some 150 survivors embarked on a raft and were decimated by starvation during a 13-day ordeal, which descended into murder and cannibalism. Only a handful remained when they were rescued at sea.
It was out in Venezuela when I ran into this sailor
He was sitting at the bar, right next to me
He was rugged he was mean and he wasn’t very clean
But I listened when he spoke about the sea
There were stories there were tales, of the hunt for killer whales
When his leg was bitten off below the knee
How en route to Senegal they were shipwrecked in squall
He survived for sixteen weeks, tied to a tree
Came the time in Kathmandu, him the captain and the crew
Were becalmed for seven days, and in a stew
So they hauled him up the mast, where they tied him good and fast
Then they fed him with baked beans, until he blew
After that there came the beast and the native king and priest
It was really getting far too much to bear
As the yarns grew more far fetched, with my patience sorely stretched
I decided that I really didn’t care
So I bought him one more rum and I said, “the time has come”
That I needed to go out, to use the loo
So he said “young man be fast, for you haven’t heard the last,
Like, when I first met your mother, in Peru
When I look at the Nile or Niger
My heart overflows with joy for such a wonder
As currents daringly flow on each iconic river
Every fountain has wealth embedded in its waters
Each mountain, sealed by the richness of history
This is the reason I recognize a path
A path filled with promises
Promises to make Africa great
In fact, Africa is already great
What a marvellous sight to behold!
Imagine a variety of wildlife in Togo
Comforting sounds of birds across Comoros
Outstanding presence of gazelles in Cameroon
Supernatural nests of swallows from epic Chad
Historical archives found in artistic Mali
Fashion trending all the way from Malawi
Magical flavour of Sea Cuisine from sanctified Senegal
Amazing pyramids in the gifted land of Sudan
Breath-taking desert all over Sahara
Beautiful girls dancing malembe in the colourful Sibasa
Bubbly boys playing in the busy streets of Kinshasa
Men brewing special coffee near corners of Mombasa
Women beading around some parts of Luanda
Elders sharing stories in the hearty homes of Rwanda
Lovely smiles from the stunning faces of Eritrea
Heartfelt love from the people of Liberia
Eternal Spirit of Ubuntu in Tanzania
Eye-catching mosaics around Tunisia
Vibrant Traces of Culture in Namibia
Incredible wisdom in The Gambia
Sweet melodies from Ghana
Sacred Forests in Uganda
Serene Oceans of Madagascar
Super Eagles soaring higher in Abuja
Special works of art from Addis Ababa
So many diamonds around Botswana
Abundant copper from magnificent Zambia
Hidden Treasures in Zimbabwe
This is no ordinary continent
But a place of contentment
Everyone who comes here
Is welcome at a first glance
By the greatness of Africa!
I AM AFRICA
I am a mother not a murderer
Patronage of numerous natural resources
Filled with beautiful creatures are my tropical
My heritage, adorned with glorious cultures
In the forest of the night I form
Seeds of great black minds
I am a mother of many gold medalists
Guardian of prolific writers
My sons and daughters are recognized through the ink of their intelligence
I am the virgin land of habitats and wild life
I am who I am
I am the great mother Africa
Fifty-four nations have me
Enriching with tribes and traditions
So favored by nature I boast
That my foes demands my departure
Tears of regrets I now shed
For my seeds have dispatched and torn me apart
Where abides my seeds I seek
The ocean of Democracy I adopted
Now lies astray with confusion as its mat
A dirge I present to you Democracy
Is my own world a different universe
Depressed I am in this silent captivity
Savoriness present in the face
But sadness, my daily food
Hope still stands in the future I believe
Admiring the consequences of the present
My aura shall once again romance
what have been laid bare
The milk of my breast is still breathing
Come and suck with caring honesty
My Philosophy of Neo-welfarism by Zik of Africa
Seeks to harmonize ideologies
Leopold Senghor of Senegal appeared with his Negritude
To rediscover and awaken our culture
Kwame Nkwuruma still lives
Through his Philosophical Consciencism which opposed capitalism
The great Ujama principle of Julius Nyerere of Tanzania
Continues to rule
I still have Achebe; who still advises from the depths
Adiche and Wole are still living legends
I sleep in silence in pure delight
As the brown dust turns to green
As daylight breaks and jet sky turns to blue
I wake up refreshed of glorious dreams
O! My great seeds; Never let me exist outside existence
Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Goree Island
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: February/2014
I see the blood
of my ancestors
that swell
in the Atlantic ocean
on
Goree Island -
The unmerciful ill winds
that fell
over my people,
in Senegal,
on that
horrific night,
brought the European's,
across the Atlantic,
to our Village -
Everything
in the world
changed forever,
and
will never be forgotten,
when the "unthinkable"
cruel acts
of slavery,
cloaked my people
like
darkness in the night -
White men
dressed in British
formal attire,
brought with them,
bullwhip's, chains, machetes,
and rifles,
to capture us.....
to ENSLAVE us!
We were brutally beaten,
and
taken to
the House of Slaves,
on Goree Island -
The malice intent
of
the British,
intensified our
suffering
at the slave house,
as they
cuffed us to
the walls,
in neck, waist,
and
ankle chains -
Days would pass,
some of us died
from
diseases,
and
starvation,
while waiting
for
the slave ship
to come
from the Americas -
The hideous inhumane
acts
by the British,
sold us
as property,
as we were
auctioned off as
commodity,
to the Americas,
during
the Atlantic Slave Trade
The mournful ness
in our helpless eyes,
spoke of horrendous fear,
as a feeling of distraught,
distress,
and despair,
clothed us
like
death -
We are innocent people
that will never
see our families again
Our homeland again -
It's unfathomable,
to see black souls in chains,
taking those final usurious
steps towards the "Door Of No
Return,"
in the House Of Slaves,
which left its ugly mark,
on the whole global earth -
Once through
the Door Of No Return,
we were sold to the Americas,
and
faced a future of
severe beatings, burnings,
hangings, lynchings,
and
rape -
To this day,
ancient spirits
of
black people,
still scream in rage
on
Goree Island,
where an untold number
of us were
slaughtered,
and
branded
before walking
through the slave door,
of
an uncertain future -
The ominous clouds
of slavery,
will
forever cast
a dark shadow,
over the
House Of Slaves,
the Door Of No Return,
and the world -
Goree Island,
in the Atlantic Ocean,
will forever
cry tears of blood,
from the souls of
black people -
There was a man from Nepal
Who loved to play football
He kicked it one day
It flew far away
Scoring a goal in Senegal
A fly on Oprah's wall.
I think I'll build an Oprah mall.
All of this money
And still no honey.
I'm bored, I think I'll buy Senegal.
An African Queen
Senegal what do I know of that country
But I have sailed past her coast, alas, she
Is married to Dakar nothing I can do.
She spoke French the tall lady and sounded
Sex, my language seems like a bulldozer
Flattening a Palestinian home so I smiled and
Said little dismayed over my lack of speech
When it imperative to make injustice heard.
Tall she was walked like a gazelle she worked
At a place where she didn`t had to be up
At seven in the morning and anyway she was
Not from Senegal, it was Senegal I loved
My ship doesn`t sail her way, but I whisper her
Name Senegal, Senegal into the African breeze
Water, water everywhere! What a spectacular view!
The Master's Hand steers our course as we sail the ocean blue!
Though the billowing waves may toss our man o' war about,
The Master Pilot will keep us safe, of that I have no doubt!
I like to think that the playful dolphins leaping about our bow,
Were trained by The Master Navigator to guide our course somehow!
We've sailed the ocean blue seven months visiting mysterious ports of call,
Savoring The Master Creator's handiwork from Trinidad to Senegal!
Our rigging has been rent in battle midst furious shot and shell,
But our Master Captain's leadership has led us through so very well!
When standing midnight watch on moonlit nights upon the ocean blue,
I'm comforted knowing that The Master Guardian is watching over you!
My supplication to The Master of the Cosmos who directs all from above,
Is that one joyful day I'll hold you in my arms forever more, my love!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 1 in Francine Roberts' "Blue on blue on blue" Contest - Jul 2011
A voice I've never heard,An inspiration,something of wonder
A switch,a spark,a beautiful thought to light the dark
A reminder of certain kindred types that are still around
A person that believes all things should be profound
A passion for life,a passion to wake
A sincerity in their words,simply something you can't fake
Now ,of course, I could be wrong and lost in thought
Though the way they write can' be taught
Something there.words won't say,even still inspiration did come from them today
A smile that I don't have to fake,A lingering feeling I care not shake
For a senegal man such as I,Is questioning the question of not
Questioning the question of why...
Synapses firing on each and every level in my head
as I lye pondering upon my bed
Trying to answer the question of why
So here I am and here and here I write
My hand withering leaving only to say goodnight
I must put pen to rest
And mind to sleep
Only so many thoughts may I keep
I write in remembrance of the late Dennis Liwewe (Zambia's No.1 and Celebrated Football Commentator). Here is a short football commentary:
"Ah, this is Dennis Liwewe. We are here in Mauritius, where the two sides, Zambia National Team and Mauritius National Team will battle it out this afternoon. Capacity crowd 40,000.
The referee is from Kenya and match commissioners from Nigeria and Senegal respectively.
At this point in time, the referee blows play on , and Mauritius team take the ball back to their goal keeper. A loose ball pass the centre circle, a bad pass by Zambia we are in deep trouble, Only to be saved by the Goal keeper Efford Chabala. This is no other than Kapambwe Mulenga, defending very well. Ball zooms out for the throw in. We are beaten in the air, Ashios Melu picks up loose ball, he beats a man in a double one two situation, he kicks a tumble, which is well chested by Kalusha Bwalya ( popularly known as Great Kalu). Great Kalu beats two, three Mauritius defenders. Great Kalu within a firing range, hammer. It's a gooooooal 1-0 to Zambia. Back to the studio for our sponsors. Mauritius are coming in a counter attack situation, their dangerous striker is breaking even, Bomber. It goes away. Again and again, Zambia takes control of the situation here, Efford Chabala pumps a long ball passes the centre circle, we are good in the air. Kelvin Mutale dribbles two Mauritius defenders, hammer. It's a goooooal Zambia leading by 2-0 . Second half , Mauritius are very aggressive at the goal, they want to equalize. We are in deep trouble again here, sliding tackle by Kapambwe Mulenga, and the ball zooms for a corner kick for Mauritius. Headed away by Ashios Melu, a little pass to Charles Musonda, passes the centre circle, he turns 360 degrees. He passes the the ball to Kelvin Mutale ( the master dribbler), it's a gooooooal, 3-0 to Zambia. We are in the dying minutes here,
And the referee blows the final whistle. This is Dennis Liwewe signing off. Pick it up ZNBC studios in Lusaka, Zambia.
May his soul rest in eternal peace
Concept by Zambian Sports Lovers
Poetry Chipepo Lwele
Note: Dennis Liwewe made Zambians to love football in the 70's, 80's and 90's when we had 2 band radios and few television sets, we were glued to the radios young and old, less educated and highly learned. He made sure that the message is loud and clear.
HEAL THY SELF O WOUNDED AFRICA
(no to XENOPHOBIA).
Wake up a voice shouted
You slept like a pregnant woman
While the drum beat of my assagil sounds like trumpet
With fear and deep chill I listened
The ghost of mighty black warrior standing in shiver
As I face the Great Zulu warrior lost in fear
I saw him Shaka cry to the members of Mambers the great Gods of Africa
There before him stands the Mighty Nile in disbelief
With the Niger filled with bloods disagrees to stay calm
The Senegal and the Congo revolted with flood
The orange and the Limpopo grumble and cried as the sky shared their pains with continuous rain pour.
O you failed cried d Zambezi as she invades her neighbors with flood
A knock on my door I heard a voice shout
Speak out for Africa
It is I Kwameh Nkrumah speaking
This is a sacrilegious act echoed the Mighty Zik
When the house is not in order the cockroaches becomes violent
Cried out the anguish voice of Awolowo
From afar I saw a running giant coming with the force of a chariot
Then I heard a voice so mighty was it that the visitors chased it with fear
He a mighty figure decorated and protected by glory of stars
Stood there is burning eyes of anger
Cover in the black glasses with general pride
As curious as a questionnaire
I ventured in to the glorious illusionary scene
Standing before my trembling eyes was The General Abacha in his full stature
Like a Ligtening spark the mighty figure bent his head in shame
As I looked to behold who thou art
There before me I saw The Mighty Mandela in tears of betray
Weep no more thou wounded soul
The thunderous voice of King Sailaise shouted
In council with the great Ghaddafi as furious as
Idi Amin
Sankara frowned like a disgraced old man
While the ghost of Seda Sengho felt it lost its victories like Anthonio lost all his titles
In schock I turned as a firmed hand gently parted my hand
It was a mighty spirit with two heads
It is the heads of the great secretaries
Achebe and Giwa
Handing me a pen a paper
Written on it
Heal thyself O Africa before yesterday bleed to death.
When Meeting Beauty
I read the menu at the restaurant looked up and saw
a pair of brown leg stretching up to heaven and thought
this waitress is from Senegal, as all beautiful women are
born there, a poor country which God compensated by
given the people physical exquisiteness.
In my old man’s confusion I ordered goat chops which
was quite apt for my unbecoming thoughts.
When she served the food I looked demurely down
but did see her white teasing smile and saw her walk away
moving like a schooner on the high seas.
No, I’m not an improper dirty old man and didn’t make any
leering remarks, but it was a moment when I wished to
be young and be able to admire beauty openly and my
admiration would have been met with a smile....and perhaps
a chance of a warm embrace.
I'm stuck on a voodoo doll
she's pinned me, she's sinned me
stuck on steal within me
may be alike soul that's akin me
don't matta none, she's jus' in me
I thought she might be from Senegal,
or Haiti maybe - someplace that's all
but said she's from Timbuktu - who knew?
she's here in me now, that's all
it may be unseemly
to be stuck by this voodoo queen
yet she's all I think
she's all I want
at the mystic brink
her wiles she flaunts
I can't catch a wink o' sleep
can't eat a g-damn thing,
I only hunger for her
with her gris-gris talisman
she might be my punishment
or she might be my nourishment
maybe my African that's heaven sent
no matta - she's my voodoo who do
what I need to do - no matta want to be
I'm stuck on this voodoo doll - that's all
© Goode Guy 2013-12-11
for Aromas for January 2014 challenge:
"poem about a voodoo doll"
Just climb onto the back of my Harley
And we shall ride to the songs of Bob Marley,
In no time at all
We'll be in Senegal,
Though I might stop for lunch in Kigali.