Mama Africa Poem by samuel nze
Mama Africa
I think of my Africa
Black woman of mettle
Sitting like a forlorn work-woman
On the slimy green.
Mama let me help you up
Take my hand and heave
Just one move of muscle
Will raise you
From your stooging.
She sits still
Reluctant and bemused
Unrepentant of her inferior folly.
I am agitated
Mama cannot go on such forever
One more effort
Must remind her that
I am still her son and
Her shame is mine as well.
Simple and beautiful. Don't know what stooging is though. The title reminds me of the great Peter Tosh album of the same name.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/7/2024 1:22:27 PM # 1.0.0.1119
How well I understand your mesage. Africa will always be home to me. I still feel you need to explain mre. Not everyone has lived there and can feel what we feel. It is a special deep exciting feeling that never goes away when you think about it. The rest of the world could never understand. Have you read my poems. 'The road to Botswana' and 'Truely an African experience' I would love to know what you think of them. Jan