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Festac Senior College, Language Department [2014/2015 session]

African Poetry

Vanity

By Birago Diop

1. If we tell, gently, gently

2. All that we shall one day have to tell,

3. Who then will hear our voices without laughter,

4. Sad complaining voices of eggars

!. Who indeed will hear them without laughter"

#. If we roughly of our torments

$. %ver increasing from the start of things

&. What eyes will watch our large mouths

'. Shaped y the laughter of ig children

1(. What eyes will watch our large mouth"

11. What hearts will listen to our clamoring"

12. What ear to our pitiful anger

13. Which grows in us li)e a tumor

14. In the lac) depth of our plaintive throats"

1!. When our *ead comes with their *ead

1#. When they have spo)en to us in their clumsy voices+

1$. ust as our ears were deaf

1&. -o their cries, to their wild appeals

1'. ust as our ears were deaf

2(. -hey have left on the earth their cries,

21. In the air, on the water, where they have traced their signs

22. or us lind deaf and unworthy Sons

23. Who see nothing of what they have made

24. In the air, on the water, where they have traced their signs

2!. And since we did not understand the dead

2#. Since we have never listen to their cries

2$. If we weep, gently, gently

2&. If we cry roughly to our torments

2'. What heart will listen to our clamoring,

3(. What ear to our soing hearts"

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Piano and Drums

By Gabriel Okara

When at rea) of day at a riverside

I hear the /ungle drums telegraphing

the mystic rhythm, urgent, raw

li)e leeding flesh, spea)ing of

primal youth and the eginning

I see the panther ready to pounce

the leopard snarling aout to leap

and the hunters crouch with spears poised+

And my lood ripples, turns torrent,

topples the years and at once I0m

in my mother0s laps a suc)ling+

at once I0m wal)ing simple

paths with no innovations,

rugged, fashioned with the na)ed

warmth of hurrying feet and groping hearts

in green leaves and wild flowers pulsing.

-hen I hear a wailing piano

solo spea)ing of comple ways in

tearfurrowed concerto+

of far away lands

and new horions with

coaing diminuendo, counterpoint,

crescendo. ut lost in the layrinth

of its compleities, it ends in the middle

of a phrase at a daggerpoint.

And I lost in the morning mist

of an age at a riverside )eep

wandering in the mystic rhythm

of /ungle drums and the concerto.

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The Dining Table

By Gbanabom Hallowell

*inner tonight comes with

gun wounds. 5ur desert

tongues lic) the vegetale

lood6the pepper

strong enough to push scorpions

up our heads. 7uests

loo) into the oceans of owls

as vegetales die on their tongues.

-he talethat gathers us is an island where guerillas

wal) the land while crocodiles

surf. 8hildren from Alphaeta with empty palms dine

with us+ switchlades in their eyes,

silence in their voices. When the playground

is emptied of children9s toys

who needs roadloc)s" When the hour

to drin) from the cup of life tic)s,

cholera rea)s its spell on crac)ed lips

:nder the spilt

mil) of the moon, I promise

to e a revolutionary, ut my ;ile, even

without triutaries comes lay

upon its own ;ile. 5n this

night reserved for lovers of fire, I0m

full with the catch of gun wounds, and my oots

have suddenly ecome too reluctant to wal) me.

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The Panic of Growing Older

By Lenrie Peter

the panic

of growing older

spread fluttering winds

from year to year

at twenty

stilled y hope

of gigantic success

time and eploration

at thirty

a sudden thro of pain

laoratory test

having nothing to show

legs cried

in domesticity allow

no sudden leaps

at the moon now.

8opyoo) isected

with red in)

and failures

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The Anvil and the Hammer

By Kofi Awoonor

8aught etween the anvil and the hammerIn the forging house of a new life,

-ransforming the pangs that delivered me

Into the /oy of new songs

-he trapping of the past, tender and tenuous

Woven with fire of sisal and

Washed in the lood of the goat in the fetish hut

Are laced with the flimsy glories of paved streets

-he /argon of a new dialectic comes with the

8harisma of the perpetual search on the outlaw0s hill.

Sew the old days for us, our fathers,

-hat we can wear them under our new garment,

After we have washed ourselves in

-he whirlpool of the many rivers0 estuary

We hear their songs and rumours everyday

*etermined to ignore these we use snatches

rom their tunes

=a)e ourselves new flags and anthems

While we lift high the anner of the land

And listen to the revereration of our songs

In the splash and moan of the se

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;on Afrrican >oetry

8rossing the arBY ALFRED, LO RD E!! Y" O!

Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me?

And may there e no moaning of the ar,

When I put out to sea,

ut such a tide as moving seems asleep,

-oo full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the oundless deep

-urns again home.

-wilight and evening ell,

And after that the dar)?

And may there e no sadness of farewell,

When I emar)+

or tho@ from out our ourne of -ime and >lace

-he flood may ear me far,I hope to see my >ilot face to face

When I have crost the ar.

-he >ulleyBY GO!G H!B!T

When 7od at first made man,

aving a glass of lessings standing y,

BCet us,D said he, Bpour on him all we can.Cet the world0s riches, which dispersEd lie,

8ontract into a span.D

So strength first made a way+

-hen eauty flowed, then wisdom, honour, pleasure.

When almost all was out, 7od made a stay,

>erceiving that, alone of all his treasure,

Fest in the ottom lay.
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/alfred-tennysonhttp://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/george-herberthttp://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/george-herberthttp://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/alfred-tennyson

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Bor if I should,D said he,

Bestow this /ewel also on my creature,

e would adore my gifts instead of me,

And rest in ;ature, not the 7od of ;ature+

So oth should losers e.

BGet let him )eep the rest,

ut )eep them with repining restlessness+

Cet him e rich and weary, that at least,

If goodness lead him not, yet weariness

=ay toss him to my reast.D

The "choolboy

By #illiam Blake

I love to rise in a summer morn,When the irds sing on every tree+

-he distant huntsman winds his horn,And the s)ylar) sings with meH

5 what sweet company?

ut to go to school in a summer morn, 5 it drives all /oy away?

:nder a cruel eye outworn,-he little ones spend the day

In sighing and dismay.

Ah then at times I drooping sit,And spend many an anious hour+

;or in my oo) can I ta)e delight,;or sit in learning@s ower,

Worn through with the dreary shower.

ow can the ird that is orn for /oySit in a cage and sing"

ow can a child, when fears annoy,ut droop his tender wing,

And forget his youthful spring?

5 father and mother if uds are nipped,And lossoms lown away+

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And if the tender plants are stripped5f their /oy in the springing day,

y sorrow and care@s dismay,

ow shall the summer arise in /oy,5r the summer fruits appear"

5r how shall we gather what griefs destroy,5r less the mellowing year,

When the lasts of winter appear"

irchesBY !OB!T #!O"T

When I see irches end to left and right

Across the lines of straighter dar)er trees,I li)e to thin) some oy@s een swinging them.

ut swinging doesn@t end them down to stay

As icestorms do. 5ften you must have seen them

Coaded with ice a sunny winter morning

After a rain. -hey clic) upon themselves

As the reee rises, and turn manycolored

As the stir crac)s and craes their enamel.

Soon the sun@s warmth ma)es them shed crystal shellsShattering and avalanching on the snowcrust6

Such heaps of ro)en glass to sweep away

Gou@d thin) the inner dome of heaven had fallen.

-hey are dragged to the withered rac)en y the load,

And they seem not to rea)+ though once they are owed

So low for long, they never right themselvesH

Gou may see their trun)s arching in the woods

Gears afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground

Ci)e girls on hands and )nees that throw their hair

efore them over their heads to dry in the sun.

ut I was going to say when -ruth ro)e in

With all her matteroffact aout the icestorm

I should prefer to have some oy end them

As he went out and in to fetch the cows6

Some oy too far from town to learn aseall,

Whose only play was what he found himself,

Summer or winter, and could play alone.

5ne y one he sudued his father@s trees
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/robert-frosthttp://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/robert-frost

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y riding them down over and over again

:ntil he too) the stiffness out of them,

And not one ut hung limp, not one was left

or him to conuer. e learned all there was

-o learn aout not launching out too soon

And so not carrying the tree away

8lear to the ground. e always )ept his poise

-o the top ranches, climing carefully

With the same pains you use to fill a cup

:p to the rim, and even aove the rim.

-hen he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,

Jic)ing his way down through the air to the ground.

So was I once myself a swinger of irches.

And so I dream of going ac) to e.

It@s when I@m weary of considerations,

And life is too much li)e a pathless wood

Where your face urns and tic)les with the cowes

ro)en across it, and one eye is weeping

rom a twig@s having lashed across it open.

I@d li)e to get away from earth awhile

And then come ac) to it and egin over.=ay no fate willfully misunderstand me

And half grant what I wish and snatch me away

;ot to return. %arth@s the right place for loveH

I don@t )now where it@s li)ely to go etter.

I@d li)e to go y climing a irch tree,

And clim lac) ranches up a snowwhite trun)

Towardheaven, till the tree could ear no more,

ut dipped its top and set me down again.-hat would e good oth going and coming ac).

5ne could do worse than e a swinger of irches.

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"onnet $%

By #illiam "$ake%peare

Shall I compare thee to a summer@s day"

-hou art more lovely and more temperateHFough winds do sha)e the darling uds of =ay,And summer@s lease hath all too short a dateH

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,And often is his gold compleion dimmed,

And every fair from fair sometime declines,y chance, or nature@s changing course untrimmedH

ut thy eternal summer shall not fade,;or lose possession of that fair thou ow@st,

;or shall death rag thou wander@st in his shade,When in eternal lines to time thou grow@st,

So long as men can reathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

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