Martins Akhoeneto Poems

Here every sound seems dead
As wood in the evening beam
Ready for sacrifice to the roaring flame
Only waves of hovering fears could wash-off
...

Silence slept over their home for years
And made milk-filled in several bushels
Overflow, this painful smiles again
And mutter her like head of camel in chain.
...

Hate me not O’ son
And blame not heaven
For this earthly guidance I show,
Why frown at my meager pay
...

What timid outcry we hear from here?
At these other side of the western sea
A place were chauvinist call us blacks
Where craftiness and fraud are our tags
...

In the torment of my fears
This torrential fall hit the coast
Adjoining my little voyage
Sometimes, we see beyond reason
...