Yoruba [African] Bride
Mo te' ni. Mo te' ni
Sun mo mi, we mo mi
Our beautous chattel,
Ripe and ripe as these glistening fountains
Let the knowingness of the moment
Frolick nigh your jugging breasts
Held high 'bove these dancing waist-beads
Sun mo mi, fa mo mi
Yarabi lo m'eyi t'o le d'omo
Our African mound,
Formed amid the twigs of strangers
Let your full buttocks, round as full moon
In a low sky at night
Sway and shake farther than the lithe beads
Mo te' ni. Mo te' ni
Sun mo mi, we mo mi
Our Yoruba maid,
Let these calabash-cups and gourds
Guide your course past famished paths of envy
Your tugging flash of black
Will adorn the supple 'sanyan'
Sun mo mi, fa mo mi
Yarabi lo m'eyi to' le d'omo
Ebony glaze across the African maze
Let your laali-tinted toes, tiro-rimmed eyes
Throw your cold spirit yonder
Beneath those eaves of manly haven
The sun scotches you no further
Mo te' ni. Mo te' ni
Sun mo mi, we mo mi
We give our blessings upon your
Sparse pale brown head
Even the gods do little
Let these broken calabash patches
Bring you offsprings, sweetly brittle
poem by Oludipe Samuel
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Related quotes
O Black Woman, Dance!
I have kept them in awe-shrowded gaze
Austere ebony writhe in gold diaphanous silk
Whet by steady hisses from the musician's strings
Brunette, long and lean woman- like hausa goat
Let drums and flutes guide your feet
To sensational display
Jocund fancy wrapped in African beauty
O black woman, dance
Turn and twist
Beauteous ripples to magnify your tone
As the land's music peppers the mind
Flaunt your well-weaved 'koroba' and dance
Your 'alari' will suffice, will adorn your will
O black woman, dance
Stride far from ambience and sift
Your fellow women's noises- whether of jilt or eulogy
Here we drum, listen coldly
Sway as the blown palm tree in goldness
And muddled murram beneath your soft fine feet
O black woman, dance the dance of spirits
Replicate the joy of the unseen
Built concrete in all our happy corners; intent and purpose
Dance, dance till to glory you depart
From clank of gongs, cries of beads cleaving your lithe waist
And shouts of children, bemused
O black woman, dance
Let me keep them in awe-shrouded gaze
poem by Oludipe Samuel
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Harvey
The whirlpool of controversies to ignite a spark,
And like an Irish-born with words to the masses!
For i want to do the unthinkable with my lover and,
My name is Harvey with her calabash of love.
Yes, her calabash full of water!
Because i am in this unfair world with the parking lot;
And i need time to understand her well being.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A bowl should not laugh when a calabash breaks.
Water from another man's calabash tests differently.
Be careful when you are sharing a calabash of porridge with a toothless man.
African Moon
African moon
Roll with the mighty waves
Well be there soon
Feel the winds as we sail on home to african moon
African moon
My heart beats like the drum
Now it is noon
Loved ones we left behind Ill see again
African moon
African moon
I will see you once more
Yes again Ill adore the real sound of the drum
Oh yes Im sailing feel your hot sun
African moon
African moon
Looking out to the sea
A reunion therell be in the evening sun
Oh theres a new life thats awaiting me
African moon
African moon
This land is my rightful home
Well never roam
Youll weep fou your sons no more and daughters
African moon
Hold up your head
One day youll be understood
Stand and be proud
Your sorrows are gone for good
Hold up your head
And youll be satisfied!
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tut-Ench-Amon (Tutankhamen)
Been and seen down flight from chicago
All aboard the African Queen
I am on a night boat down to cairo
Feeling like a tourist with a foreign man abroad
Tells it like he thinks it is, but I know he is fraud
There is a map tucked under his shoulder
and a cap perched on his head
If he looked any older, he might as well be dead
Dressed in army surplus the files around me swarm
On a mission without a purpose, I wish I'd never been born
By the light of a pale moon - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
Put you in the picture - 1884
I'm up to date on the literature
but I have never been here before
There is a black boy on the corner trailing me behind
Stalking like a vulture money on his mind
In the shadow of the giant sphinx the archeological tale
Before the eastern sun sinks I'll be learning braille
By the light of a pale moon - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
They are playing our tune - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
By the light of a, light of a pale moon - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
By the light of a pale moon - Tutankhamen
Half past high noon - Tutankhamen
song performed by by Falco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Overheard on a Salmarsh
Nymph, nymph, what are your beads?
Green glass, goblin. Why do you stare at them?
Give them me.
No.
Give them me. Give them me.
No.
Then I will howl all night in the reeds,
Lie in the mud and howl for them.
Goblin, why do you love them so?
They are better than stars or water,
Better than voices of winds that sing,
Better than any man's fair daughter,
Your green glass beads on a silver ring.
Hush, I stole them out of the moon.
Give me your beads, I want them.
No.
I will howl in the deep lagoon
For your green glass beads, I love them so.
Give thme me. Give them.
No.
poem by Harold Monro
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Muse on Memes (Larmer Tree July 2007)
When the drum beat pounds and the night explodes
And the music sounds through a humming crowd.
There’s a flash of red from your dancing head
And big brown boots couldn’t give a cahoots!
‘cos she’s “always dancing, always dancing”.
There’s a soulful lyric, or a sax solo
And a birdsong mimic or a mobile phone
In her own space, in her own time
Fire in her face proud ‘cos she’s ‘mine’.
Professional shimmy to eclipse my stomp
Longing for to gimme a hop, skip and romp.
Freedom of spirit - fly, fly away
Up above the limit, dance another day
There’s a flash of red
From your dancing head
And big brown boots
Couldn’t give a cahoots!
‘cos she’s “always dancing, always dancing”.
July 2007
poem by Colin Phillimore
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No matter how tough the current of a river may be it is the calabash that triumphal over the river.
Supremacy is the beauty
Chubby lips, plump cheeks, massive breasts, fleshy buttocks,
Blunt nose, hairy skin, coarse hair and black eyes
Are the features the Dravidians inherited from the Negros.
Thin lips, flat cheeks, rounded breasts, slated buttocks,
Long nose, pale skin, silky hair and brown eyes
Are the features Aryan inherited from the White race.
Aryans are held beautiful by their cultural supremacy.
30.11.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Full Cold Moon
This night
All light
Full still moon
Lamp lit
Silhouette
Full still moon
Many faces
Secret places
Full still moon
Supernal eye
In the sky
Full still moon
Big stone
Cold Alone
Full still moon
In reverie
A memory
Full still moon
Only one
You are
gone
Only night
to dream
upon
Full
Cold
Moon
poem by Ari' Anna Arena
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Tezcotzinco
Though thou art now a ruin bare and cold,
Thou wert sometime the garden of a king.
The birds have sought a lovelier place to sing.
The flowers are few. It was not so of old.
It was not thus when hand in hand there strolled
Through arbors perfumed with undying Spring
Bare bodies beautiful, brown, glistening,
Decked with green plumes and rings of yellow gold.
Do you suppose the herdsman sometimes hears
Vague echoes borne beneath the moon's pale ray
From those old, old, far-off, forgotten years?
Who knows? Here where his ancient kings held sway
He stands. Their names are strangers to his ears.
Even their memory has passed away.
poem by Alan Seeger
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Kiwi
Fruit without a stone, its shiny
pulp is clear green. Inside, tiny
black microdot seeds. Skin
the color of khakiImagine
a shaggy brown-green pelt
that feels like felt.
It's oval, full-rounded, kind
of egg-shaped. The rind
comes off in strips
when peeled with the lips.
If ripe, full of juice,
melon-sweet, yet tart as goose-
berry almost. A translucent ring
of seed dots looks something
like a coin-slice of banana. Grown
in the tropics, some stone
fruits, overlarge, are queerly
formed. A slablike pit nearly
fills the mango. I
scrape the fibrous pulp off with my
teeth. That slick round ball
in avocado (fruit without juice) we call
alligator pear:
Plant this seedpit with care
on three toothpicks over a glass
of water. It can come to pass
in time, that you'll see
an entire avocado tree.
Some fruits have stones, some seeds.
Papaya's loaded with slimy black beads.
Some seem seedlesslike quince
(that makes your tastebuds wince.)
Persimmon will
be sour, astringent 'until
dead ripe,' they say. Behind
pomegranate's leathery rind,
is a sackful of moist rubies. Pear,
cantaloupe, grapefruit, guava keep their
seeds hidden, as do raspberry, strawberry,
pineapple. Plum, peach and cherry
we know as fruits with big
seedstones. And fig?
Its graininess is seed. Hard to believe
is prickly durian. It's custard
sweetand smells nasty.
But there's no fruit as tasty,
as odd, or as funny
none
as fresh-off-the-vine New Zea-
land kiwi.
poem by May Swenson
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Offspring Blessings Opposes Barren Desires
votive faces eyes ears see hear appear ever attentive guardians?
terracotta votive offerings amass phalli breasts uteri fascinates?
possibilities pre Viagra Greco Roman Bacchantes desires orgies?
offspring blessings opposes barren cursed shame couples childless?
votive offerings reasoned fixation items pepper ancient societies?
feature throughout diverse modern societies evil eye luck beads
patron saints crucifixes prayer beads ritualistic in varied religions?
an assortment of rites head coverings adorn male female devotees?
all share desires respect given gains favor with supernatural forces?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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a Ray of sunlight
It was in the middle of the day
and the sun was high and bright,
in the deep blue African sky.
The LMG was getting heavy
and hot in my hands
and gnats were turning
round the piece of grass
in my brown bush hat.
Sweat were running
down my face
and like any other day,
a patrol in the hot
African bush was great fun
especially when your water
bottle was near empty
and your throat started to burn
and the going was fast.
The bushman tracker
was hot on the enemy spoor
and where the terrain
got more open,
we halted for a moment.
a Ray of sunlight
reflected bright like a flash light,
somewhere to the left
and pointed out an enemy ambush.
We half circled past
and attacked from their rear
and the LMG stuttered
from my hip
and suddenly the bush was clear
and the firefight was over
and an ominous silence hanged
deep in the African bush.
[Reference: => LMG=> Light machine gun. Spoor=>Track]
poem by Gert Strydom
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I Love The African Woman
I Love The African Woman
I love the African woman
Her golden eyes
Burnt by smoke yet remained pure
Her black hair
Burdened by loads yet remained long
I love the African woman
Her dark lips
Kissed and chewed by men, Black and White
Yet remained full and thick
Her tender breast
Fondled by hands, smooth and callous
Yet remained firm and tall
At her back great men slept
On her laps heroes were nursed
At the meeting of her thighs all men dream
Her feet, hardened and bruised
Yet she keep moving
With pride
With dignity
I love her African heart
I love her African passion
I love the African woman
poem by Joseph Eli Atisu
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Shake It
I feel like a sail-boat
Adrift on the sea
Its a brand new day
So when you gonna phone me
I could take you to heaven
I could spin you to hell
But Ill take you to new york
Its the place that I know well
Sitting on a flagstone talking to a faceless girl
And I wondering what to say but my eyes do the talking so well
Duck and I sway - whats my line
Shoot at a full moon - whats my line
So whats my line - shake it baby
Cause love is the answer
Loves talking to me
Id scream and Ill fight for you
Youre better than money
Were the kind of people who can shake it if were feeling blue
When Im feeling disconnected well I sure know what to do
Shake it baby
Ah shake it shake it
I duck and I sway - whats my line
I shoot at a full moon - whats my line
So whats my line - shake it shake it baby
Shake shake it
Shake it baby
Shake shake it
Shake it baby
Shake it shake it
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Child Remembers His Mother's Death...
She passed one full moon night...
Don't ask me the day...when it was...
Long from now...
A vague remembrance...of charcoal burning...burning slow anxious pain...
It was one full moon night...
When I had not slept...it was the first night before which, sleep had taken me in her warm feathers...
Where she fled from that night...
My eyes o’er the sleepless stars...
Sought her return...
The night when fear was known to me...
The greatest fears of all...
Fear of losing...
It was one full moon night...
Don't ask me the day
I had grown in a night...
My amuse...
She passed and I just looked...
And looked
Passed to where...
Know I not...
Full moon night ‘t was...
Like today...
Its consistent routines...
Slipped she to irregular tracks..
Past pale radiance
Pale radiance to shine o’er faint nostalgia...
(Woke from innocent carelessness...
To what...I amused... it was uncomfortable...awkward...just too bad to be real.)
poem by Lama Abbas
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Behind a Wall
I own a solace shut within my heart,
A garden full of many a quaint delight
And warm with drowsy, poppied sunshine; bright,
Flaming with lilies out of whose cups dart
Shining things
With powdered wings.
Here terrace sinks to terrace, arbors close
The ends of dreaming paths; a wanton wind
Jostles the half-ripe pears, and then, unkind,
Tumbles a-slumber in a pillar rose,
With content
Grown indolent.
By night my garden is o'erhung with gems
Fixed in an onyx setting. Fireflies
Flicker their lanterns in my dazzled eyes.
In serried rows I guess the straight, stiff stems
Of hollyhocks
Against the rocks.
So far and still it is that, listening,
I hear the flowers talking in the dawn;
And where a sunken basin cuts the lawn,
Cinctured with iris, pale and glistening,
The sudden swish
Of a waking fish.
poem by Amy Lowell
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