Afro Asian Poetry

African Phoenix

Out of the ashes of a phoenixA new African phoenix is born

As black and as famished as everCarrying the same loads of thorn

The same batches of infamyOf disease, of wars, of hunger

The same scars in the hornAs politicians to each others whisper

Sweet lies; with no conscience to scornAs they exhale and praises inhale over dinner

And more ranks to their siblings adornAfrica stands aloof as distant as ever

As unique as an alien unicornWrithing in mounts of litter

Burdened, broken and outworn

O'Africa;

You bleeding mammoth of motherYou vale of tears; of forlorn

Your love is ebbless and silent as a riverYour smile as homely as spring as morn

You cry for us when we in far lands shiverYou sing for us when we are buried and bornYou grieve for us when we in your arms suffer

You pamper us when we are tired and torn

O'Africa;

You carcass for every alien scavengerYou open wound to every Jabir and John

How oblivious you are to your Saracean slaverWhat a merciful saint you are; what a pawn

To every megalomaniac and messianic vultureWasn't it Nkrumah who first saw the throne?They banished him; I can vividly remember

They betrayed him for few sacks of cornAnd after forty years of wines and winterAfter lifeless, loveless, long nights of lorn

After decades of the eternal death's encounterDo I see or do I dream of the first signs of dawn

Oh! No; don't you wake me up brotherNo; not to the same howls and horn

Not to the same wolves' prayerAs the new century's lonely lovelorn.

Bashir Goth, July 11, 2002 - In response to the much touted birth of the African Union

Child Soldiers

Heavens cry, mothers bemoan;Father and son trade hot metals;Nations slug out, children at front;

Young minds dance the limbo.

Munition, wars, as toy games;Battle field as play grounds;

Bullets blow the whistle;Trenches shield blind shots.

Murder tutorials the course;Predation, vandalism, an honor;

Grades in white stripes;Nation wastes her rising suns.

Chief Charles O. Okereke

Copyright ©2003 Chief Charles O. Okereke

African Diaspora

In the diaspora he sat down;And there he wept;

Remembering Africa;Mouth open, unable to a song.

Eyes full of the ocean;Mouth imploded with praises;

Thought stacked full of memories,Memories of Motherland Africa.

In bits he uttered;Africa, my cherised home;

In the diaspora unable to a song;I want to come to thee.



Liberia

Land of freedom;Land of the setting sun;In Americas you rose;Freedom in sought.

Land of great heros;Land of revolutionaries;

Liberia or liberty;Sierra Leon bemoaned.

Beautiful seashore home;Pride of Africa;

Symbol of blackness;Great black icon.

Thou shall rise again;African Union enshrined;

Thy labor to bear fruit;Bounty, peace, freedom.



Oiled To Foolishnes

Drinks and broke;Gambles away, violent home;

Home abused, neglected;Comparable analog.

All over the world;Worst in Africa;

Oil boom, human nightmare;Nation suffocates;

Sold in barrels;Accounted in margins;

Pockets full, treasury dry;Loot 'Swissed';

Ethnic bickering;Resource control fumes;Gun barrels hold unity;

Nation in coma;Gravely deep sleep;Angels hover above,

For nations requiem mass;Oiled to foolishness?



Madness & Vultures' Feast

In Europe it started big and massive;Great wars, great loses, great feasts, 3Gs;Human madness, mankind's zealousness;

We killed, we maimed, we polluted;The air stenched, vultures rejoiced our madness.

Munition sounds, heavenly jet bombardments;Destructions on earth, lives hacked away;

We fool, vultures feast and bury loved ones;The air smell, bones criss-cross the land;

Warriors and people perish, senseless wars.Whole wide earth besieged with 3Gs;

Wars, loses, senseless feasts, feasts on lives;Asia arms, Mid E. rocks, Africa fight, Europe alert;

Vultures bury, grow on flesh, exhume as feces;Bones criss-cross the land, pathetic signs of R.I.P.



Black & White

Countless human colors;Within, across, races;

God's earthly flower garden;Blessing to mankind.

Africa mother stock;Home of germination;Divine manifestation,

Until whole earth bedded.Beauty more than a trait;Diversity most beautiful;Monocolor too boring;Races beauty of earth.

Races like rainbow;Earth horizon beautified,

To His glory above;All that dwell rejoice.



Dungeon Cells

In Africa, everywhere;Third world they thrive;

Change first claim;Reach out as saviors.

Trade on votes;Shoot down power at times;

Plunder whole nation;Bank away in West;Army bully to fear;

Murder, blackmail, opposition;Rape to satisfy lust;

Quench throat with alcohol.No looking East;

Home destitute, in disrepair;West thrives with loot;

Rise up, oh! Africa.Chief Charles O. Okereke


Nigerian Bones

There are bones in NigeriaThat needs flesh

The flesh is democracyAnd I see it coming

But you have to openup yourself to the flesh

Because you will recieveHelp and blessings abondantly

They bones are the wholehouse Of Nigeria,Our bonesare dry We are cut off and

Hopes are being lostBut God said I will open

Your grave and save youAnd course you to come outBring you to the land Nigeria

Anele E. Obasih

Copyright ©2002 Anele Obasih

Africa My Continent

Arise and shine AfricaArise and Shine for God has put spirit in you.

Arise Africa that my country belong to.Shine Africa,the land of many continent.

Arise and shine AfricaThe proud land of our forefathers.

The beautiful land of AfricaFor God has bless youWith many resourcesArise and shine Africa

The sweet home of our fore fathersThe land that God's love will manisfested

The sweet land of many talents.Arise and shine AfricaLive in peace,for only

Living in peace that yourBlessings will shine out in the world.

Anele E. Obasih


The shine Banner of Africa

They sweet land of Africa.Shine for you have been

blessed and be proud of who youAre, for God has rescue you.

For you have been blessedwith many recourses for God is

in control of your destinyBut your have to arise and shine.

for you have to be strongonly being strong and faithful

And peaceful that yourLand will shine with blessing.

Have faith in God and your countryHave love in God and your country.

Always give your best to your country.Our home,sweet land of Africa

God bless you.Anele E. Obasih


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Demoniger

Any country that openup themselves for help

will receive help abundantlyI see it coming to Nigeria.

He will put spirit in herAnd console them to live

And place you in your landThen you will take stick

And will write with itlean not on your own

Understanding,trust in him.Fear the almighty,depart

From your evils,Do not beWise on your own,It will

be healthy to your strengthAnd strengthen your bones.

Anele E. Obasih


Africa

Africa the motherland NATIONAfrica the land of my forefather

Africa the land of my great ancestor once roamedAfrica the land of many communities

Africa the land of my birthplaceAfrica the second largest continent on EARTH

Africa the land which everybody imitatesAfrica the land which everyone talks about

Africa the land which everyone is jealous aboutAfrica the land that brings beauty in all of us

Africa the land of great leadershipAfrica the land of great powersAfrica the land of bright futures

Africa the land of great traditionsAfrica the land of good food

Africa the land of vast populationsAfrica the land real precious diamonds

Africa the land of UNITYAfrica the land of hard working people

Africa the land that lord gave to usAfrica the land the land that i love

Africa the land that i will SOON return to

Obi Onyenwe

Africa's pain is my pain

Africa dear AfricaYour children are lonely and depressed

Africa dear AfricaYour children are at war with each other

Africa dear AfricaYour children are killing each other

Africa dear AfricaYour children are starving

Africa dear AfricaYour essence is pure but you are suffering

Africa dear Africayour pain is my painSo i sit here crying.

Africa

Africa my AfricaAfrica my mother landland of milk and honeyland of natural beautyAfrica land where i live

Africa my AfricaA land of great rulers

Africa my Africaland of nature

A land were nature lives

Africa my AfricaA land blessed by God himself

On the day of creationGod threw diamond like stone

gold like rain

He dropped crude oil like rain

Africa my Africaland of milk and honey

Abisoye Sejoro

AFRICA’S PLEARoland Tombekai Dempster

I am not you –But you will not

Give me a chance,Will not let me be me.

“If I were you”but you knowI am not you,

Yet you will notLet me be me.

You meddle, interfereIn my affairs

As if they were yoursAnd you were me.

You are unfair, unwise,Foolish to think

That I can be you,Talk, act

And think like you.

God made me me.He made you you.

For God’s sakeLet me be me.

The Great Way is not difficult for those who have no preferences. When love and hate are both absent

everything becomes clear and undisguised. Make the smallest distinction, however

and heaven and earth are set infinitely apart. If you wish to see the truth

then hold no opinions for or against anything. To set up what you like against what you dislike

is the disease of the mind. When the deep meaning of things is not understood the minds essential peace is disturbed to no avail.

The Way is perfect like vast space where nothing is lacking and nothing is in excess. Indeed, it is due to our choosing to accept or reject

that we do not see the true nature of things. Live neither in the entanglements of outer things,

nor in inner feelings of emptiness. Be serene in the oneness of things

and such erroneous views will disappear by themselves. When you try to stop activity to achieve passivity

your very effort fills you with activity. As long as you remain in one extreme or the other

you will never know Oneness.

- Sengstan

translated from the Chinese

10,000

Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn,

a cool breeze in summer, snow in winter.

If your mind isn't clouded by unnecessary things,

this is the best season of your life.

- Wu Men

To my retired friend Wei

It is almost as hard for friends to meet As for the morning and evening stars.

Tonight then is a rare event, Joining, in the candlelight,

Two men who were young not long ago But now are turning grey at the temples.

...To find that half our friends are dead Shocks us, burns our hearts with grief.

We little guessed it would be twenty years Before I could visit you again.

When I went away, you were still unmarried; But now these boys and girls in a row

Are very kind to their father's old friend.

They ask me where I have been on my journey; And then, when we have talked awhile,

They bring and show me wines and dishes, Spring chives cut in the night-rain

And brown rice cooked freshly a special way.

...My host proclaims it a festival, He urges me to drink ten cups --

But what ten cups could make me as drunk As I always am with your love in my heart? ...Tomorrow the mountains will separate us;

After tomorrow-who can say?

- Tu Fu

Opposition

In my youth I was opposed to school.

And now, again, Im opposed to work.

Above all it is health And righteousness that I hate the most.

Theres nothing so cruel to man As health and honesty.

Of course Im opposed to the Japanese spirit And duty and human feeling make me vomit.

Im against any government anywhere And show my bum to authors and artists circles.

When Im asked for what I was born, Without scruple, Ill reply, To oppose.

When Im in the east I want to go to the west.

I fasten my coat at the left, my shoes right and left.My hakama I wear back to front and I ride a horse facing its buttocks.

What everyone else hates I like And my greatest hate of all is people feeling the same.

This I believe: to oppose Is the only fine thing in life.

To oppose is to live. To oppose is to get a grip on the very self.

Kaneko Mitsuharu 1895-1975

Pairs of Shoes

My future lives come to me in dreams Come silently with torn soles. I am like a skilled shoemaker

Greeting the wandering breath of these feet.

These dreams-my other selves Sprawl out to sleep like a litter of puppies,

Pinches of ashy fur standing up in tufts Their young hair like hens fluffed feathers

They lie on their stomachs, pressing against my shadow.

Pairs of shoes from yesterday will come tomorrow Am I their native land, or a land foreign to them?

Their house, or an inn? Which road guided them to me?

Tonight I decide to open myself to these dreams, As anxious for their arrival as a child yearning for milk. Perhaps fireflies will draw them in a different direction

And perhaps the shoes are no longer ripped.

I feel as empty as a new-born creatire.

I spread out like a homeless evening To meet these footprints turning toward me.

- Nguyen Quyen

Translated by Ben Tran

Submission by Manhae Han Yong-Un (Translated by Francisca Cho)

Others love their freedom, but I prefer submission.It’s not that I don’t know freedom.

I just want to submit to you.Willing submission is sweeter than exalted freedom.

If you tell me to submit to someone else,

that’s the only thing to which I can’t submit.If I submit to someone else, I can’t submit to you.

Azaleas by Kim So-wŏl

When seeing me sickens youand you walk out

I'll send you off without a word, no fuss.

Yongbyon's mount Yaksan'sazaleas

by the armful I'll scatter in your path.

With parting stepson those strewn flowers

treading lightly, go on, leave.

When seeing me sickens youand you walk out

why, I'd rather die than weep one tear.

Beside a chrysanthemum by Midang Sŏ Chŏng-ju

For one chrysanthemum to blooma nightingale

has sobbed since spring, perhaps.

For one chrysanthemum to bloomthunder

has pealed in dark clouds, perhaps.

Flower! Like my sister standingat her mirror, just back

from far away, far away byways of youth,where she was racked with longing and lack:

last night's frost came down

to bid your yellow petals bloom, perhaps,while I could not get to sleep.

Grass by Kim Su-yŏng

The grass is lying flat.Fluttering in the east wind that brings rain in its train,

the grass lay flatand at last it wept.

As the day grew cloudier, it wept even moreand lay flat again.

The grass is lying flat.

It lies flat more quickly than the wind.It weeps more quickly than the wind.It rises more quickly than the wind.

The day is cloudy, the grass is lying flat.

It lies low as the ankleslow as the feet.

Though it lies flat later than the wind,it rises more quickly than the wind

and though it weeps later than the wind,it laughs more quickly than the wind.

The day is cloudy, the grass's roots are lying flat.

Flower by Kim Ch’un-su

Before I spoke his namehe was simply

one set of gestures, nothing more.

Then I spoke his name,he came to me

and became a flower.

Just as I spoke his name,I hope that someone will speak my name,

one right for my color and perfume.I long to go to him

and become his flower.

We all of uslong to become something.You for me, and I for you,

we long to become a never-to-be-forgotten gaze.

Back to Heaven by Chŏn Sang-pyŏng

I'll go back to heaven again.Hand in hand with the dew

that melts at a touch of the dawning day,

I'll go back to heaven again.With the dusk, together, just we two,

at a sign from a cloud after playing on the slopes

I'll go back to heaven again.At the end of my outing to this beautiful world

I'll go back and say: It was beautiful. . . .

WITH POEM, ITaufik Ismail

With poem I singUntil my late age

With poem I’m in loveBounded by horizon

With poem I rememberImmortality in the future

With poem I cryVicious slicing of clock needle

With poem I condemnTime that breathe smelly

With poem I prayLet presumably

Mokkye Market by Shin Kyŏng-Nim

The sky urges me to turn into a cloud,the earth urges me to turn into a breeze,

a little breeze waking weeds on the ferry landingonce storm clouds have scattered and rain has cleared.

To turn into a peddler sad even in autumn light,going to Mokkye Ferry, three days' boat ride from Seoul,

to sell patent face-powders, on days four and nine.The hills urge me to turn into a meadow flower,

the stream urges me to turn into a stone.To hide my face in the grass when hoarfrost bites,

to wedge behind rocks when rapids rage cruel.To turn into a traveller with pack laid by, resting

on a clay hovel's wood step, river shrimps boiling up,changed into a fool for a week or so, once in thrice three years.

The sky urges me to turn into a breeze,the hills urge me to turn into a stone.

Today by Ku Sang

Today again I confront a day that is source of mystery.

In this day the past, present and future are one,just as each drop of water in that river

is linked to a tiny spring in some mountain valleyand linked to the distant, azure sea.

In that way, in this today of mine, being linked to eternity,

at this very moment I am living that eternity.

That means that it is not after I have diedbut from today on that I must live eternity,

must live a life worthy of eternity.

I must live in poverty of heart.

I must live with an empty heart.

To The Philippine Youth (Source: Rizaliana Site)

Unfold, oh timid flower !

Lift up your radiant brow,This day, Youth of my native strand !

Your abounding talents showResplendently and grand,

Fair hope of my Motherland !

Soar high, oh genius great,And with noble thoughts fill their mind;

The honor's glorious seat,May their virgin mind fly and find

More rapidly than the wind.

Descend with the pleasing lightOf the arts and sciences to the plain,

Oh Youth, and break forthrightThe links of the heavy chain

That your poetic genius enchain.

See that in the ardent zone,The Spaniard, where shadows stand,

Doth offer a shining crown,With wise and merciful hand

To the son of this Indian land.

You, who heavenward riseOn wings of your rich fantasy,

Seek in the Olympian skiesThe tenderest poesy,

More sweet than divine honey;

You of heavenly harmony,On a calm unperturbed night,Philomel's match in melody,

That in varied symphonyDissipate man's sorrow's blight;

You at th' impulse of your mindThe hard rock animate

And your mind with great pow'r consignedTransformed into immortal state

The pure mem'ry of genius great;

And you, who with magic brushOn canvas plain capture

The varied charm of Phoebus,Loved by the divine Apelles,And the mantle of Nature;

Run ! For genius' sacred flameAwaits the artist's crowning

Spreading far and wide the fameThroughout the sphere proclaiming

With trumpet the mortal's name

Oh, joyful, joyful day,The Almighty blessed be

Who, with loving eagernessSends you luck and happiness

First, A Poem Must Be MagicalBy Jose Garcia Villa

First, a poem must be magical,Then musical as a seagull.

It must be a brightness movingAnd hold secret a bird’s flowering

It must be slender as a bell,And it must hold fire as well.

It must have the wisdom of bowsAnd it must kneel like a rose.

It must be able to hear The luminance of dove and deer.

It must be able to hideWhat it seeks, like a bride.

And over all I would like to hoverGod, smiling from the poem’s cover.

The Way We LiveBy Danton Remoto

(For Ted Nierras)

Bang the drum slowly, baby,let us roll tremorsof sound to wake

the Lord God of motionsleeping under the skin.

Of choosing what to wear this Saturday night:

cool, sexy blackor simply fuck-me red?

Should I gel my hairor let it fall like water?

Of sitting on the sadand beautiful face of James Dean

while listening to reggaeat Blue Café.

Of chatting with friends at The Library

while Allan shimmerswith his sequins and wit.

Of listening to stories at Cine Café:the first eye-contact,

conversations glowingin the night,

lips and fingers touching,groping for each other's loneliness.

Of driving home under the flyover's dark wings

(a blackout once again plungesthe city to darkness)

Summer's thunderlighting up the sky

oh heat thickas desire

Then suddenly the rain:finally falling,

falling everywhere:to let go, then,

to let go and to move on,this is the way it seems

to be. Bang the drum, baby.

What the Ghost SawBy Angelo B. Ancheta

It was a thin slice of light

through the windowpane

an hour before dawn

as I stood looking out

for that not faraway house

where lives a single lady.

A teacher who scared

the wits out of a kid

who refused to let go of her

mother’s hand that needed

to hang clients’ clothes

the kid rose and said

she would rather want to help

her mother to be with her.

But the teacher kept telling

her stories of a winged friend

who kidnaps and eats the stubborn

With fiery eyes the kid let go

of her mother, crossed the street

near the fiend’s flat.

The teacher paid me a visit this morning forty-days after that day she fooled me and lay down her peace offering. Told me mother has no clothes to hang. I followed her to check my flapping

foe But there was only a single slab of light.

JAPANESE POETRY

3 poems by Ki-no-Tsurayuki (ca. 868 - ca. 964):

It’s spring!when threads of green willow

twine together,or tangle among blossoms

that are bursting their seams.

This thing called partingHas no color

Yet it seeps into our heartsAnd stains them with loneliness.

Like a wild cherryglimpsed dimly

through a break in the mist—that’s the kind canstir you to desire.

2 poems by Saigyo (1118-1190):

As banked cloudsare swept apart by the wind,

at dawn the sudden cryof the first wild geese

Winging across the mountains.

In a mountain villageat autumn’s end—

that’s where you learn what sadness means

in the blast of the wintry wind.

2 poems by Fujiwara-no-Teika (1162-1241):

Here again, another useless sign of the floating world:In an autumn field, on a flower, a dew drop.

Neglectful, I have not died for love—Another year gone, counting on meeting you by living on.

2 poems by Myoe (1173-1232):

Because fog engulfs the grass hut where I am,

I feel as though I’ve melted into the sky

Bright bright!bright bright bright!

bright bright!bright bright bright!

bright bright, the moon!

3 poems by Basho (1644-1694):

Ah, spring, spring!Great is the spring, and so forth

I usually hate crows,but this snowy morning!

An old pond,a frog jumps in—

the sound of water

5 poems by Yosa Bosun (1716-1783):

Spring rain:telling stories,

a straw coat and umbrella walk past

A camellia dropsand spills yesterday’s rain

Coolness:separating from the bell,

the bell’s voice

Delight of crossing a summer river,sandals in hand

Running out of the nets,running out of the nets,

the water, the moon

Poem by Uejima Onitsura (1661-1738):

Trees flutter,and autumn begins

2 poems by Takarai Kikaku (1661-1707):

The autumn sky has detached itself from the mountain-top cedars

An evening shower—a woman,

looking out

Poem by Shiba Sonome (1664-1726):

Not content, the violets have dyed the hills

as well

Poem by Chiyojo (1703-1775):

Looking at the willows,one ends up forgetting them

Poem by Takai Kito (1741-89):

A tumble, fall, crash,then silence—

cats in love

anonymous senryu (18th c):

laying a fart—no humor in it

when you live alone

2 poems by Issa (1763-1827)

Oh snail,climb Mt. Fuji,

but slowly, slowly

The world of dew is, yes,a world of dew,

but even so

2 poems by Yosano Akiko (1879-1942):

Another look like his mixed me up again—you really do play tricks on me,

don’t you, gods of love.

Yesterday felt like a thousand years ago,at the same time

I feel you hands still on my shoulders.

Poem by Yamamura Bocho (20th c):

Each of the rain drops has a tale to tellabout the sorrows of people

about the hardships living things go throughabout the arrival of sparrows.

Afro Asian Poetry

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