<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8072459990935724307</id><updated>2024-11-08T07:17:11.421-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Great West African Poems</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://greatwestafricanpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8072459990935724307/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://greatwestafricanpoems.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>dubem</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07966132686354975912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KeBLwnDxd8Q/TGvQrTRBk_I/AAAAAAAAAAc/nOTvitBZ3Mg/S220/dprince+2.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>2</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8072459990935724307.post-232044461253654408</id><published>2010-08-30T03:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T03:18:34.197-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Great West African Poems 2</title><content type='html'>GREAT WEST AFRICAN POEMS 2&lt;br /&gt;
The notes that follow poems are designed to help in the extraction of the meaning of poems and in the appreciation of the technique of the poets.&lt;br /&gt;
The general pattern of the notes should be clearly understood. The first line-by-line explanations are those of difficult words or words used in a sense special to the poem; these are followed by interpretations of meaning and comments on the technique of the poetric expression.&lt;br /&gt;
Here are some poems from Wole Soyinka, Birago Diop, Kwesi Brew and J.P Clark&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Wole Soyinka: He was born in 1934 at Abeokuta, Nigeria. He studied in University of Ibadan and at Leeds University, England where he graduated in English Language and Literature. The SEASON is one of his many poems.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
SEASON&lt;br /&gt;
Rust is ripeness, rust,&lt;br /&gt;
And the wilted corn-plume&lt;br /&gt;
Pollen is mating-time when swallows&lt;br /&gt;
Weave a dance&lt;br /&gt;
Of feathered arrows&lt;br /&gt;
Thread corn-stalks in winged&lt;br /&gt;
Streaks of light. And we love to hear&lt;br /&gt;
Spliced phrases of the wind, to hear&lt;br /&gt;
Rasps in the field, where corn-leaves&lt;br /&gt;
Pierce like bamboo slivers&lt;br /&gt;
Now, garners we,&lt;br /&gt;
Awaiting rust on tassels, draw&lt;br /&gt;
Long shadows from the dusk, wreathe&lt;br /&gt;
The thatch in woods-smoke. Laden stalks&lt;br /&gt;
Ride the germ&#39;s decay- we await&lt;br /&gt;
The promise of the rust&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Birago Diop: He was born in 1906 at Dakar, Senegal. He was educated in Senegal and in France where in qualifed in veterinary surgeon. VANITY is one of his many poems he used in expressing the presence of the ancestor.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
VANITY&lt;br /&gt;
If we tell, gently, gently&lt;br /&gt;
All that we shall one day have to tell,&lt;br /&gt;
Who then will hear our voices without laughter, &lt;br /&gt;
Sad complaining voices of beggars&lt;br /&gt;
Who indeed will hear them without laughter?&lt;br /&gt;
If we roughly of our torments&lt;br /&gt;
Ever increasing from the start of things&lt;br /&gt;
What eyes will watch our large mouths&lt;br /&gt;
Shaped by the laughter of big children&lt;br /&gt;
What eyes will watch our large mouth?&lt;br /&gt;
What hearts will listen to our clamoring?&lt;br /&gt;
What ear to our pitiful anger&lt;br /&gt;
Which grows in us like a tumor&lt;br /&gt;
In the black depth of our plaintive throats?&lt;br /&gt;
When our Dead comes with their Dead&lt;br /&gt;
When they have spoken to us in their clumsy voices;&lt;br /&gt;
Just as our ears were deaf&lt;br /&gt;
To their cries, to their wild appeals&lt;br /&gt;
Just as our ears were deaf&lt;br /&gt;
They have left on the earth their cries,&lt;br /&gt;
In the air, on the water, where they have traced their signs&lt;br /&gt;
For us blind deaf and unworthy Sons&lt;br /&gt;
Who see nothing of what they have made&lt;br /&gt;
In the air, on the water, where they have traced their signs&lt;br /&gt;
And since we did not understand the dead&lt;br /&gt;
Since we have never listen to their cries&lt;br /&gt;
If we weep, gently, gently&lt;br /&gt;
If we cry roughly to our torments&lt;br /&gt;
What heart will listen to our clamoring,&lt;br /&gt;
What ear to our sobbing hearts?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
KWESI BREW: He was born in 1928 at Cape Coast, Ghana, was orphaned at an early age. He had his studies in Ghana. THE MESH is a love poem.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
THE MESH&lt;br /&gt;
We have come to the cross-roads&lt;br /&gt;
And I must either leave or come with you&lt;br /&gt;
I lingered over the choice&lt;br /&gt;
But in the darkness of my doubt&lt;br /&gt;
You lifted the lamp of love&lt;br /&gt;
And I saw in your face&lt;br /&gt;
The road that I should take&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
J.P CLARK: John Pepper Clark was born at Delta, Nigeria in 1935. He studied in the university of Ibadan. He is a graduate of English Literature. STREAM SIDE EXCHANGE is a poem about the future put in the simple frame work of childhood anxiety.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
STREAM SIDE EXCHANGE&lt;br /&gt;
Child:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; River bird, river bird&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Sitting all day long&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; On the hook over grass&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; River bird, river bird,&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Sing to me a song&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Of all that pass&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; And say,&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Will mother come back today?&lt;br /&gt;
Bird:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; You cannot know&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; And should not bother;&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Tide and market come and go&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; And so shall your mother.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://greatwestafricanpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/232044461253654408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://greatwestafricanpoems.blogspot.com/2010/08/great-west-african-poems-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8072459990935724307/posts/default/232044461253654408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8072459990935724307/posts/default/232044461253654408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://greatwestafricanpoems.blogspot.com/2010/08/great-west-african-poems-2.html' title='Great West African Poems 2'/><author><name>dubem</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07966132686354975912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KeBLwnDxd8Q/TGvQrTRBk_I/AAAAAAAAAAc/nOTvitBZ3Mg/S220/dprince+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8072459990935724307.post-1005529910668984275</id><published>2010-08-24T03:47:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-24T03:47:52.769-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Poems From Great lIterate of the past</title><content type='html'>Great West African Poem&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;A Poet always has something to say. It might be a straight forward statement about a subject of public interest or it might be an expression of private problem, joy or interest. A Poet writes to communicate meaning and perhaps the first effect a reader do is to extract this statement, the theme of the poem. But it is not the &#39;subject of the matter&#39; about that makes a poetry. Otherwise poems dealing with the same subject would all be of the same quality, and in any case there would have been no need to write in the poetic form.&lt;br /&gt;
The Poet combines technique to produce his meaning and it is on the success of this technique that the beauty of a poem depends.&lt;br /&gt;
The concreteness of the details chosen, the diction and choice of words, the imagery and figures of speech, the consonant and vowel sounds of the words, the line movement or rhythm, even the appearance of the words on the page- all these contribute to the meaning of the poem and creates the peculiar BEAUTY.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Gladys Casely- Hayford: She was born in 1904 at Axim, in Ghana to famous Ghanaian lawyer and author, Joseph Ephraim Casely Hayford and of the author Adelaide Casely Hayford. Here is are favorite poem&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
NATIVITY&lt;br /&gt;
Within a native hut, ere stirred the dawn,&lt;br /&gt;
Unto the Pure One was an infant born,&lt;br /&gt;
Wrapped in blue&amp;nbsp; lappah that His mother dyed,&lt;br /&gt;
Laid on His father&#39;s home- tanned deerskin hide,&lt;br /&gt;
The Babe still slept, by all things glorified.&lt;br /&gt;
Spirit of the black bards burst their bonds and sang&lt;br /&gt;
&#39;Peace upon the earth&#39; until the heavens rang.&lt;br /&gt;
All the black babies who from the earth had fled&lt;br /&gt;
Peeped through the clouds- then gathered round His head,&lt;br /&gt;
Telling of things a baby needs to do,&lt;br /&gt;
When first He opens His eyes on wonder new;&lt;br /&gt;
Telling Him that sleep was the sweetest rest,&lt;br /&gt;
All comfort came from His black mother&#39;s breast.&lt;br /&gt;
Their gift was love caught from the springing sod,&lt;br /&gt;
Whilst tears and laughter were the gifts of God.&lt;br /&gt;
Then all the wise Men of the past stood forth, &lt;br /&gt;
Filling the air, East, West, South and North,&lt;br /&gt;
And told Him of the joy that wisdom brings&lt;br /&gt;
To mortals in their earthly wanderings.&lt;br /&gt;
The children of the past shook down each bough,&lt;br /&gt;
Wreathed frangipani blossoms for His brow,&lt;br /&gt;
They put pink lilies in His mother&#39;s hand,&lt;br /&gt;
And heaped for both the first fruits of the Land.&lt;br /&gt;
His father cut somepalm fonds, that the air&lt;br /&gt;
Be coaxed to Zephyrs while He rested there.&lt;br /&gt;
Birds trilled their hallelujahs;all the dew&lt;br /&gt;
Trembled with laughter, till the Babe laughed too.&lt;br /&gt;
Black women brought their love so wise,&lt;br /&gt;
And kissed their motherhood into HIS mother&#39;s eyes.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
R.E.G Armattoe- He was born in 1913 at Denu in the then Gold Coast. He was a medical doctor by proffessin and worked in Northern Ireland for ten years before returning back to his country.&lt;br /&gt;
AFRICA&lt;br /&gt;
I once saw a maiden dark and comely,&lt;br /&gt;
Sittin by the way side, sad and lonely,&lt;br /&gt;
Oh! pretty maiden , so dark and comely,&lt;br /&gt;
Why sit by the wayside, sad and lonely,&lt;br /&gt;
&#39;I am neither sad and lonely&#39;she sad,&lt;br /&gt;
&#39;But living, sir, among the deaf and dumb;&lt;br /&gt;
Relentlessly watching these shameless dead,&lt;br /&gt;
Makes my warm heart grow very cold and numb.&#39;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Dennis Osadebay- Was born in 1911 in Asaba, Nigeria. He studied and worked in Nigeria before going to England to study Law.&lt;br /&gt;
YOUNG AFRICA&#39;S PLEA&lt;br /&gt;
Don&#39;t preserve my customs&lt;br /&gt;
As some fine curios &lt;br /&gt;
To suit some white historian&#39;s tastes.&lt;br /&gt;
There&#39;s nothing artificial&lt;br /&gt;
That beats the natural way&lt;br /&gt;
In culture and ideals of life.&lt;br /&gt;
Let me play with the white man&#39;s ways&lt;br /&gt;
Let me work with the blackman&#39;s brains&lt;br /&gt;
Let my affairs themselves sort out.&lt;br /&gt;
Then in sweet rebirth&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;ll rise a better man&lt;br /&gt;
Not ashamed to face the world.&lt;br /&gt;
Those who doubt my talents&lt;br /&gt;
In secret fear my strength&lt;br /&gt;
They know i am no less a man.&lt;br /&gt;
Let them bury their prejudice, &lt;br /&gt;
Let them show their noble sides, &lt;br /&gt;
Let me have untrammelled growth, &lt;br /&gt;
My friends will never know regret&lt;br /&gt;
And I, I never once forget.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://greatwestafricanpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/1005529910668984275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://greatwestafricanpoems.blogspot.com/2010/08/poems-from-great-literate-of-past.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8072459990935724307/posts/default/1005529910668984275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8072459990935724307/posts/default/1005529910668984275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://greatwestafricanpoems.blogspot.com/2010/08/poems-from-great-literate-of-past.html' title='Poems From Great lIterate of the past'/><author><name>dubem</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07966132686354975912</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_KeBLwnDxd8Q/TGvQrTRBk_I/AAAAAAAAAAc/nOTvitBZ3Mg/S220/dprince+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>