Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

At sundown

Enlarge poem

At sundown,
The light is fading… gone
The day’s demise to mourn
And with the night’s waking yawn,
Darkness is born

At sundown,
The tides ebb off the day’s story
The intricate palms rustle off in glory
This moment, an enchanting boundless storey
Ours to know, the night’s untold story

At sundown,
A lullaby the wind would sing
Nought but sleep to bring
To our homesteads we cling
Joy upon lit faces in an encircling ring

At sundown,
Laden with the turmoil of day
Our weary heads we do lay
From our strive to make hay
Ever so weary, our way

At sundown,
Our heads we lay to rest
Life may not be on a crest
But we scramble for the best
Inspired by the golden-red west

At sundown,
The homeward flocks fly by
Flapping wings to the day, say ‘bye’
The day once more is to die
And in the grim imageries of the night to lie
But we never ask why

At sundown,
Our oil lamps on the high
Anticipating the gloom that’s nigh
And for gleam, with the moon to vie
A stage to make of the sky

At sundown,
We adore the pleasant twilight
To make sweet, the about-to-be-born night
For us all; both Black and White
And with fond memories to ease the stress of life’s fight

At sundown,
A pleasant zephyr would blow
The distant horizon would glow
The tides, so rhythmically slow
Then rapture, from hearts would flow

At sundown,
To the skies, our hands we raise
To the Lord, we sing a song of praise
All but for Heaven’s grace
And a silent cry for better days
At sundown,
……. I rest my poem.

Tahiru Hamid Seinu

Featured Poem:

Under the silk cotton tree

Enlarge poem

It still stands there
In my little village, if you ask “where?”
Its towering… still a peeking glare
Its seeding…ever still, such a flare

Witness of the night’s hidden mysteries
Hearer of all unknown secrets
Companion of the forgotten miseries
Bearer of my clan’s insurmountable histories

Great history of culture, brave warriors and thunderous war songs
A gone past for which my heart still longs;
That beautiful heritage before the advent of the monks
And the tolling of their dongs
There, my identity belongs

That very spot of royal assemblage
Has lost its stand through time and age
It did bear the stool of the sage
But now the commoner’s, our pinnacle of heritage
And that, the peak of my ancestors’ rage!

The canopy of that tree has seen and heard many things, thus
The idle talk of commoners
The weary meditations of loners
The petty gossips of passing women
Quite oblivious of their lumps of burden
The anarchic revolts of warlords and followers
The merry yells and sounds of innocent children playing
The romantic refrains of budding lovers
Under the cover of twilight
And….yes, I still remember…
…. So vividly
Under that silk cotton tree,
We…
… She and me…
Planted our solemn first kiss;
The onset of life’s very bliss
Under that same silk cotton tree

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  • Inspiration (0)
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  • Captivation (1)
  • Peace (1)
  • Amusement (0)
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  • Hope (0)
  • Sadness (0)
  • Fear (0)
  • Jubilation (0)

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Biography

Tahiru Hamid Seinu is a poet and Pan-Africanist. He loves nature and conceptualizing community initiatives.

Tahiru Hamid Seinu

Biography

Tahiru Hamid Seinu is a poet and Pan-Africanist. He loves nature and conceptualizing community initiatives.

At sundown

Enlarge poem

At sundown,
The light is fading… gone
The day’s demise to mourn
And with the night’s waking yawn,
Darkness is born

At sundown,
The tides ebb off the day’s story
The intricate palms rustle off in glory
This moment, an enchanting boundless storey
Ours to know, the night’s untold story

At sundown,
A lullaby the wind would sing
Nought but sleep to bring
To our homesteads we cling
Joy upon lit faces in an encircling ring

At sundown,
Laden with the turmoil of day
Our weary heads we do lay
From our strive to make hay
Ever so weary, our way

At sundown,
Our heads we lay to rest
Life may not be on a crest
But we scramble for the best
Inspired by the golden-red west

At sundown,
The homeward flocks fly by
Flapping wings to the day, say ‘bye’
The day once more is to die
And in the grim imageries of the night to lie
But we never ask why

At sundown,
Our oil lamps on the high
Anticipating the gloom that’s nigh
And for gleam, with the moon to vie
A stage to make of the sky

At sundown,
We adore the pleasant twilight
To make sweet, the about-to-be-born night
For us all; both Black and White
And with fond memories to ease the stress of life’s fight

At sundown,
A pleasant zephyr would blow
The distant horizon would glow
The tides, so rhythmically slow
Then rapture, from hearts would flow

At sundown,
To the skies, our hands we raise
To the Lord, we sing a song of praise
All but for Heaven’s grace
And a silent cry for better days
At sundown,
……. I rest my poem.

Featured Poem:

Under the silk cotton tree

Enlarge poem

It still stands there
In my little village, if you ask “where?”
Its towering… still a peeking glare
Its seeding…ever still, such a flare

Witness of the night’s hidden mysteries
Hearer of all unknown secrets
Companion of the forgotten miseries
Bearer of my clan’s insurmountable histories

Great history of culture, brave warriors and thunderous war songs
A gone past for which my heart still longs;
That beautiful heritage before the advent of the monks
And the tolling of their dongs
There, my identity belongs

That very spot of royal assemblage
Has lost its stand through time and age
It did bear the stool of the sage
But now the commoner’s, our pinnacle of heritage
And that, the peak of my ancestors’ rage!

The canopy of that tree has seen and heard many things, thus
The idle talk of commoners
The weary meditations of loners
The petty gossips of passing women
Quite oblivious of their lumps of burden
The anarchic revolts of warlords and followers
The merry yells and sounds of innocent children playing
The romantic refrains of budding lovers
Under the cover of twilight
And….yes, I still remember…
…. So vividly
Under that silk cotton tree,
We…
… She and me…
Planted our solemn first kiss;
The onset of life’s very bliss
Under that same silk cotton tree

How does this featured poem make you feel?

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

At sundown

Enlarge poem

At sundown,
The light is fading… gone
The day’s demise to mourn
And with the night’s waking yawn,
Darkness is born

At sundown,
The tides ebb off the day’s story
The intricate palms rustle off in glory
This moment, an enchanting boundless storey
Ours to know, the night’s untold story

At sundown,
A lullaby the wind would sing
Nought but sleep to bring
To our homesteads we cling
Joy upon lit faces in an encircling ring

At sundown,
Laden with the turmoil of day
Our weary heads we do lay
From our strive to make hay
Ever so weary, our way

At sundown,
Our heads we lay to rest
Life may not be on a crest
But we scramble for the best
Inspired by the golden-red west

At sundown,
The homeward flocks fly by
Flapping wings to the day, say ‘bye’
The day once more is to die
And in the grim imageries of the night to lie
But we never ask why

At sundown,
Our oil lamps on the high
Anticipating the gloom that’s nigh
And for gleam, with the moon to vie
A stage to make of the sky

At sundown,
We adore the pleasant twilight
To make sweet, the about-to-be-born night
For us all; both Black and White
And with fond memories to ease the stress of life’s fight

At sundown,
A pleasant zephyr would blow
The distant horizon would glow
The tides, so rhythmically slow
Then rapture, from hearts would flow

At sundown,
To the skies, our hands we raise
To the Lord, we sing a song of praise
All but for Heaven’s grace
And a silent cry for better days
At sundown,
……. I rest my poem.

Comments

Your email address will not be published.