Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

A PORTION OF HISTORY

Enlarge poem

THERE CAME A TIME WHEN THERE WAS AM INVASION OF BLACK MINDS OF WHITE SKIN OF WHITE SKIN IN THE LAND OF WHITE MINDS OF BLACK SKIN.
AMONG MANY WEAPONS THEY BROUGHT WAS THE WEAPON OF DECEPTION USED AGAINST OUR KINGS LURING OUR FOREFATHERS INTO LETTING GO OF THEIR POOR AND DAUGHTERS, UNKNOWN TO THEM, THEY WERE GOING TO ENTER INTO THE HAVE OF NO RETURN.
I WONDER WERE THE WITCH-DOCTORS AND MANY ORACLES OF THEN, NOT ABLE TO DECERN.
THEY CHANGED THEIR BRACELETS UD CHAINS,
THEY CHANGED THEIR ANKLETS TO CHAINS,
AND THE BEADS ON THEIR NECKS WERE CHANGED TO CHAINS.
THEY GAVE SCHNAPPS TO OUR CHIEVES AND KINGS AND TOOK YELLOW STONES,
MIRROR TO OUR ELDERS FOR DIAMONDS.
OUR FOREFATHERS WHO WERE FORCIBLY TAKEN OUT OF THE LAND OF THEIR OWN AND THOSE WHO NEVER REACHED THE LAND OF COLD, WERE THRONE OVER-BOARD BY THESE VERY PEOPLE WITH DARK MINDS HOPING THAT WILL STOP THEIR SHIP FROM SINKING WHEN THERE AROSE A STORM,
SOME DID NOT EVEN MAKE IT INTO THE SHIPS, THEY DIED IN DUNGEONS OUT OF SUFFOCATION, OTHERS GAVE UP THE GHOST HAVING NO HOPE AND MOTIVATION.
HOW CAN THEY SING THEIR LOVE SONGS IN THE LAND OF FOREIGN, WHEN ALL THEY HEAR IS THE SOUND OF GUN-SHOTS AND THE SOUND OF WHIPS INSTEAD OF A GENTLE “KOKRO-KOO” FOR THEM TO KNOW ITS MORNING.
WHEN THEY FAILED TO CHAIN THE MINDS OF OUR YAA ASANTEWAA’S AND OUR NAYA BINGY’S, THEY MANAGED TO MAKE OUR KINTAKUNTE’S TO RESPOND TO THE CALL OF TOBI’S .
THE TIREDNESS THEY ACQUIRED FROM PLOWING THE PLANTATIONS FROM MORNING TILL EVENING IS THE PILL THAT PUT THEM TO SLEEP WHEN THEY HAVE WORKED SO HARD AND THEY CAN’T STAND ON THEIR FEET WHERE CHAFF TURNS SO WEIGH MORE THAN TEN BAGS OF WHEAT,
AND THE SPIRITUAL SONGS THEY SUNG, GAVE THEM HOPE FOR THE FUTURE A BETTER FUTURE, WHERE BETTER IS GETTING BACK TO THE LAND OF THEIR FATHERS, THE LAND OF THEIR ANCESTORS, BACK TO THE MOTHERLAND.
THE TIME HAS COME FOR THE BLACKMAN TO TELL HIS OWN STORY THE VERY BEST WAY HE DEEMS FIT.
THE BLISS OF THE OPPRESSOR IS THE BLISTERS ON THE OPPRESSED.
THE SCARES ON THE ANCESTORS, HAS BEEN DESCENDED ON THE DESCENDANTS AS INDELIBLE BIRTH MARKS ON THE SKIN.
THE CLINGING ON HOES, SICKLE, AND CUTLASSES AS THEY WORKED ON SUGAR-CANE FARMS YET RELISHING NO SWEETNESS, CREATING IN US A FIGHTING SPIRIT; THE EDGE TO SURVIVE NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS.
I HAD A DREAM THAT ONE DAY THE BLACKMAN WILL BE THE PRESIDENT OF AMERICA,
THIS WAS THE DREAM OF MARTIN LUTHER.
THE BULLET MAY HAVE THE ABILITY TO END LIVES BUT NOT THE DREAMS AND VISIONS OF THOSE WITH GREAT EYES,
LIKE KWAME NKRUMAH WHO SAID “THE INDEPENDENCE OF GHANA IS MEANINGLESS UNLESS IT IS LINKED UP WITH THE TOTAL LIBERATION OF THE AFRICAN CONTINENT”.
THE REALISATION OF THIS LAYS IN YOU AND I,
IF WE CAN MOVE WITH ONE MIND AND LOOK INTO THE FUTURE WITH ONE GREAT EYE.
THE TIME HAS COME FOR THE BLACKMAN TO TELL HIS OWN STORY THE VERY BEST WAY HE DEEMS FIT.

Laud de Poet

Featured Poem:

TEN CEMTIMETER HYPHEN

Enlarge poem

GREEN LEAVES FALL AND DRY LEAVES TOO HOW OFTEN DO PEOPLE SPEAK ABOUT DEATH THE END OF MORTALITY YET THE BEGINNING OF ETERNITY.
DEATH LIKE AM ECLIPSE, GIVES A BRIEF DARKNESS, SWINGS THE MOOD OF THEY WHO ARE ENJOYING THE BENEFITS OF LIFE; OF THE LIFE OF OTHERS.
THE END OF A LIFE THAT IS TRANSIENT YET THE BEGINNING OF A LIFE THAT IS PERMANENT.
HOW OFTEN DO WE THINK OF WHAT WILL HAPPEN IN THIS TRANSITION, FOR EVER SUFFERING?, OR FOREVER ENJOYING?,
THAT IS THE QUESTION
ONCE UPON A TIME, IN BETWEEN TIME IN THIS WORLD OF TIME, WAS THE ARRIVAL OF THE END OF THE LIFETIME OF THE MOTHER OF THE WIFE OF MY UNCLE IN THE LINEAGE OF MY MOTHER.
THEN WAS IT EXPEDIENT IN ACCORDANCE TO TRADITION THAT I Laud de Poet PUT ON CLOTH OF BLACK COLOUR
AFTER LAYING HER IN THE GRAVE SIX FEET, DROPPING FLOWERS, SHEDDING TEARS, AND THE “OSOFO” SAYING DUST TO DUST AND COMING FROM THE CEMETRY, DID MY EYES BEHOLD SOMETHING ON A TOMB-STONE THAT SLOWED THE PACE OF MY FEET.
IT WAS TEN CENTIMETERS HYPHEN,
FOR IN BETWEEN THE DATES YOU DIE IS A HYPHEN
JEN-BII AGORME, CHRISTO FOE AGORME, THAT IS THE GRAVEYARD OF THE WORLDLY’S, THE GRAVEYARD OF THE CHRISTIANS.
IN ANY OF THEM YOU FIND TOMB-STONES, AND ON THE TOMB-STONES THERE ARE WRITTEN DATES OF BIRTH AND DATES OF DEATH.
IN BETWEEN THESE TWO DATES IS A HYPHEN,
IN THAT HYPHEN LAYS THE LIFE YOU LIVED ON EARTH,
IN THAT HYPHEN LAYS THE PROBLEMS YOU CAUSED,
IN THAT HYPHEN LAYS THE PROBLEMS YOU SOLVED,
IN THAT HYPHEN IS EMBEDDED WHETHER YOU ARE JUST HISTORY OR PART OF HISTORY,
WHETHER YOUR LIFE IS A MISERY OR THE REVELATION WE A PROPHETIC MYSTERY.
FOR YOUR LIFE OF PERPETUITY, YOUR LIFE OF ETERNITY, BE IT HELL OF HEAVEN IS DETERMINED BY THE HYPHEN BETWEEN THE TWO DATES OF BIRTH AND OF DEATH,
AND NOT YOUR PLACE OF BURIAL
JEN-BII AGORME, CHRISTO FOE AGORME.
~LDP

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (0)
  • Pride (0)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (1)
  • Delight (3)
  • Inspiration (1)
  • Reflection (1)
  • Captivation (0)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (1)
  • Vigour (0)
  • Hope (1)
  • Sadness (0)
  • Fear (0)
  • Jubilation (0)

Comments

  1. I am so amazed at the wealth of African Poets. I, too, am a Poet. I live in Texarkana, AR. Listening and Reading these talented works completely settled into my soul tonight. What a Blessing!I am so grateful for this site. It made my month!

    Laura Butler
  2. Amazing indeed interesting poem you have my teacher. you really showing the beauty of african writing. sir i am a teacher who wants to go into writing. i would be grateful if you you take as your student and train me in writing. thank you.

    Sadick Abdullah

Your email address will not be published.

Biography

Laud de Poet is a contemporary poet from Ghana who resides in Tema. His real name is Laud Kweku Halm-Quartey affectionately addressed as Laud de Poet or Ldp. A Pan-African, Ldp is a poet and a poetry promoter.

He is also the founder of modeconceptz, an association that supports anything about poetry and the elements of poetry.

Laud de Poet

Biography

Laud de Poet is a contemporary poet from Ghana who resides in Tema. His real name is Laud Kweku Halm-Quartey affectionately addressed as Laud de Poet or Ldp. A Pan-African, Ldp is a poet and a poetry promoter.

He is also the founder of modeconceptz, an association that supports anything about poetry and the elements of poetry.

A PORTION OF HISTORY

Enlarge poem

THERE CAME A TIME WHEN THERE WAS AM INVASION OF BLACK MINDS OF WHITE SKIN OF WHITE SKIN IN THE LAND OF WHITE MINDS OF BLACK SKIN.
AMONG MANY WEAPONS THEY BROUGHT WAS THE WEAPON OF DECEPTION USED AGAINST OUR KINGS LURING OUR FOREFATHERS INTO LETTING GO OF THEIR POOR AND DAUGHTERS, UNKNOWN TO THEM, THEY WERE GOING TO ENTER INTO THE HAVE OF NO RETURN.
I WONDER WERE THE WITCH-DOCTORS AND MANY ORACLES OF THEN, NOT ABLE TO DECERN.
THEY CHANGED THEIR BRACELETS UD CHAINS,
THEY CHANGED THEIR ANKLETS TO CHAINS,
AND THE BEADS ON THEIR NECKS WERE CHANGED TO CHAINS.
THEY GAVE SCHNAPPS TO OUR CHIEVES AND KINGS AND TOOK YELLOW STONES,
MIRROR TO OUR ELDERS FOR DIAMONDS.
OUR FOREFATHERS WHO WERE FORCIBLY TAKEN OUT OF THE LAND OF THEIR OWN AND THOSE WHO NEVER REACHED THE LAND OF COLD, WERE THRONE OVER-BOARD BY THESE VERY PEOPLE WITH DARK MINDS HOPING THAT WILL STOP THEIR SHIP FROM SINKING WHEN THERE AROSE A STORM,
SOME DID NOT EVEN MAKE IT INTO THE SHIPS, THEY DIED IN DUNGEONS OUT OF SUFFOCATION, OTHERS GAVE UP THE GHOST HAVING NO HOPE AND MOTIVATION.
HOW CAN THEY SING THEIR LOVE SONGS IN THE LAND OF FOREIGN, WHEN ALL THEY HEAR IS THE SOUND OF GUN-SHOTS AND THE SOUND OF WHIPS INSTEAD OF A GENTLE “KOKRO-KOO” FOR THEM TO KNOW ITS MORNING.
WHEN THEY FAILED TO CHAIN THE MINDS OF OUR YAA ASANTEWAA’S AND OUR NAYA BINGY’S, THEY MANAGED TO MAKE OUR KINTAKUNTE’S TO RESPOND TO THE CALL OF TOBI’S .
THE TIREDNESS THEY ACQUIRED FROM PLOWING THE PLANTATIONS FROM MORNING TILL EVENING IS THE PILL THAT PUT THEM TO SLEEP WHEN THEY HAVE WORKED SO HARD AND THEY CAN’T STAND ON THEIR FEET WHERE CHAFF TURNS SO WEIGH MORE THAN TEN BAGS OF WHEAT,
AND THE SPIRITUAL SONGS THEY SUNG, GAVE THEM HOPE FOR THE FUTURE A BETTER FUTURE, WHERE BETTER IS GETTING BACK TO THE LAND OF THEIR FATHERS, THE LAND OF THEIR ANCESTORS, BACK TO THE MOTHERLAND.
THE TIME HAS COME FOR THE BLACKMAN TO TELL HIS OWN STORY THE VERY BEST WAY HE DEEMS FIT.
THE BLISS OF THE OPPRESSOR IS THE BLISTERS ON THE OPPRESSED.
THE SCARES ON THE ANCESTORS, HAS BEEN DESCENDED ON THE DESCENDANTS AS INDELIBLE BIRTH MARKS ON THE SKIN.
THE CLINGING ON HOES, SICKLE, AND CUTLASSES AS THEY WORKED ON SUGAR-CANE FARMS YET RELISHING NO SWEETNESS, CREATING IN US A FIGHTING SPIRIT; THE EDGE TO SURVIVE NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS.
I HAD A DREAM THAT ONE DAY THE BLACKMAN WILL BE THE PRESIDENT OF AMERICA,
THIS WAS THE DREAM OF MARTIN LUTHER.
THE BULLET MAY HAVE THE ABILITY TO END LIVES BUT NOT THE DREAMS AND VISIONS OF THOSE WITH GREAT EYES,
LIKE KWAME NKRUMAH WHO SAID “THE INDEPENDENCE OF GHANA IS MEANINGLESS UNLESS IT IS LINKED UP WITH THE TOTAL LIBERATION OF THE AFRICAN CONTINENT”.
THE REALISATION OF THIS LAYS IN YOU AND I,
IF WE CAN MOVE WITH ONE MIND AND LOOK INTO THE FUTURE WITH ONE GREAT EYE.
THE TIME HAS COME FOR THE BLACKMAN TO TELL HIS OWN STORY THE VERY BEST WAY HE DEEMS FIT.

Featured Poem:

TEN CEMTIMETER HYPHEN

Enlarge poem

GREEN LEAVES FALL AND DRY LEAVES TOO HOW OFTEN DO PEOPLE SPEAK ABOUT DEATH THE END OF MORTALITY YET THE BEGINNING OF ETERNITY.
DEATH LIKE AM ECLIPSE, GIVES A BRIEF DARKNESS, SWINGS THE MOOD OF THEY WHO ARE ENJOYING THE BENEFITS OF LIFE; OF THE LIFE OF OTHERS.
THE END OF A LIFE THAT IS TRANSIENT YET THE BEGINNING OF A LIFE THAT IS PERMANENT.
HOW OFTEN DO WE THINK OF WHAT WILL HAPPEN IN THIS TRANSITION, FOR EVER SUFFERING?, OR FOREVER ENJOYING?,
THAT IS THE QUESTION
ONCE UPON A TIME, IN BETWEEN TIME IN THIS WORLD OF TIME, WAS THE ARRIVAL OF THE END OF THE LIFETIME OF THE MOTHER OF THE WIFE OF MY UNCLE IN THE LINEAGE OF MY MOTHER.
THEN WAS IT EXPEDIENT IN ACCORDANCE TO TRADITION THAT I Laud de Poet PUT ON CLOTH OF BLACK COLOUR
AFTER LAYING HER IN THE GRAVE SIX FEET, DROPPING FLOWERS, SHEDDING TEARS, AND THE “OSOFO” SAYING DUST TO DUST AND COMING FROM THE CEMETRY, DID MY EYES BEHOLD SOMETHING ON A TOMB-STONE THAT SLOWED THE PACE OF MY FEET.
IT WAS TEN CENTIMETERS HYPHEN,
FOR IN BETWEEN THE DATES YOU DIE IS A HYPHEN
JEN-BII AGORME, CHRISTO FOE AGORME, THAT IS THE GRAVEYARD OF THE WORLDLY’S, THE GRAVEYARD OF THE CHRISTIANS.
IN ANY OF THEM YOU FIND TOMB-STONES, AND ON THE TOMB-STONES THERE ARE WRITTEN DATES OF BIRTH AND DATES OF DEATH.
IN BETWEEN THESE TWO DATES IS A HYPHEN,
IN THAT HYPHEN LAYS THE LIFE YOU LIVED ON EARTH,
IN THAT HYPHEN LAYS THE PROBLEMS YOU CAUSED,
IN THAT HYPHEN LAYS THE PROBLEMS YOU SOLVED,
IN THAT HYPHEN IS EMBEDDED WHETHER YOU ARE JUST HISTORY OR PART OF HISTORY,
WHETHER YOUR LIFE IS A MISERY OR THE REVELATION WE A PROPHETIC MYSTERY.
FOR YOUR LIFE OF PERPETUITY, YOUR LIFE OF ETERNITY, BE IT HELL OF HEAVEN IS DETERMINED BY THE HYPHEN BETWEEN THE TWO DATES OF BIRTH AND OF DEATH,
AND NOT YOUR PLACE OF BURIAL
JEN-BII AGORME, CHRISTO FOE AGORME.
~LDP

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (0)
  • Pride (0)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (1)
  • Delight (3)
  • Inspiration (1)
  • Reflection (1)
  • Captivation (0)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (1)
  • Vigour (0)
  • Hope (1)
  • Sadness (0)
  • Fear (0)
  • Jubilation (0)

A PORTION OF HISTORY

Enlarge poem

THERE CAME A TIME WHEN THERE WAS AM INVASION OF BLACK MINDS OF WHITE SKIN OF WHITE SKIN IN THE LAND OF WHITE MINDS OF BLACK SKIN.
AMONG MANY WEAPONS THEY BROUGHT WAS THE WEAPON OF DECEPTION USED AGAINST OUR KINGS LURING OUR FOREFATHERS INTO LETTING GO OF THEIR POOR AND DAUGHTERS, UNKNOWN TO THEM, THEY WERE GOING TO ENTER INTO THE HAVE OF NO RETURN.
I WONDER WERE THE WITCH-DOCTORS AND MANY ORACLES OF THEN, NOT ABLE TO DECERN.
THEY CHANGED THEIR BRACELETS UD CHAINS,
THEY CHANGED THEIR ANKLETS TO CHAINS,
AND THE BEADS ON THEIR NECKS WERE CHANGED TO CHAINS.
THEY GAVE SCHNAPPS TO OUR CHIEVES AND KINGS AND TOOK YELLOW STONES,
MIRROR TO OUR ELDERS FOR DIAMONDS.
OUR FOREFATHERS WHO WERE FORCIBLY TAKEN OUT OF THE LAND OF THEIR OWN AND THOSE WHO NEVER REACHED THE LAND OF COLD, WERE THRONE OVER-BOARD BY THESE VERY PEOPLE WITH DARK MINDS HOPING THAT WILL STOP THEIR SHIP FROM SINKING WHEN THERE AROSE A STORM,
SOME DID NOT EVEN MAKE IT INTO THE SHIPS, THEY DIED IN DUNGEONS OUT OF SUFFOCATION, OTHERS GAVE UP THE GHOST HAVING NO HOPE AND MOTIVATION.
HOW CAN THEY SING THEIR LOVE SONGS IN THE LAND OF FOREIGN, WHEN ALL THEY HEAR IS THE SOUND OF GUN-SHOTS AND THE SOUND OF WHIPS INSTEAD OF A GENTLE “KOKRO-KOO” FOR THEM TO KNOW ITS MORNING.
WHEN THEY FAILED TO CHAIN THE MINDS OF OUR YAA ASANTEWAA’S AND OUR NAYA BINGY’S, THEY MANAGED TO MAKE OUR KINTAKUNTE’S TO RESPOND TO THE CALL OF TOBI’S .
THE TIREDNESS THEY ACQUIRED FROM PLOWING THE PLANTATIONS FROM MORNING TILL EVENING IS THE PILL THAT PUT THEM TO SLEEP WHEN THEY HAVE WORKED SO HARD AND THEY CAN’T STAND ON THEIR FEET WHERE CHAFF TURNS SO WEIGH MORE THAN TEN BAGS OF WHEAT,
AND THE SPIRITUAL SONGS THEY SUNG, GAVE THEM HOPE FOR THE FUTURE A BETTER FUTURE, WHERE BETTER IS GETTING BACK TO THE LAND OF THEIR FATHERS, THE LAND OF THEIR ANCESTORS, BACK TO THE MOTHERLAND.
THE TIME HAS COME FOR THE BLACKMAN TO TELL HIS OWN STORY THE VERY BEST WAY HE DEEMS FIT.
THE BLISS OF THE OPPRESSOR IS THE BLISTERS ON THE OPPRESSED.
THE SCARES ON THE ANCESTORS, HAS BEEN DESCENDED ON THE DESCENDANTS AS INDELIBLE BIRTH MARKS ON THE SKIN.
THE CLINGING ON HOES, SICKLE, AND CUTLASSES AS THEY WORKED ON SUGAR-CANE FARMS YET RELISHING NO SWEETNESS, CREATING IN US A FIGHTING SPIRIT; THE EDGE TO SURVIVE NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS.
I HAD A DREAM THAT ONE DAY THE BLACKMAN WILL BE THE PRESIDENT OF AMERICA,
THIS WAS THE DREAM OF MARTIN LUTHER.
THE BULLET MAY HAVE THE ABILITY TO END LIVES BUT NOT THE DREAMS AND VISIONS OF THOSE WITH GREAT EYES,
LIKE KWAME NKRUMAH WHO SAID “THE INDEPENDENCE OF GHANA IS MEANINGLESS UNLESS IT IS LINKED UP WITH THE TOTAL LIBERATION OF THE AFRICAN CONTINENT”.
THE REALISATION OF THIS LAYS IN YOU AND I,
IF WE CAN MOVE WITH ONE MIND AND LOOK INTO THE FUTURE WITH ONE GREAT EYE.
THE TIME HAS COME FOR THE BLACKMAN TO TELL HIS OWN STORY THE VERY BEST WAY HE DEEMS FIT.

Comments

  1. I am so amazed at the wealth of African Poets. I, too, am a Poet. I live in Texarkana, AR. Listening and Reading these talented works completely settled into my soul tonight. What a Blessing!I am so grateful for this site. It made my month!

    Laura Butler
  2. Amazing indeed interesting poem you have my teacher. you really showing the beauty of african writing. sir i am a teacher who wants to go into writing. i would be grateful if you you take as your student and train me in writing. thank you.

    Sadick Abdullah

Your email address will not be published.