#Africa

416 posts
  • draydee 7w

    You are the one I'm telling all my secrets when I'm alone,

    Yet, you are my prettiest secret.

  • yours_trulyy 7w

    THE THING.

    Around 5pm at her usual spot, it got suddenly quiet as if someone had turned off the sounds of nature, all but the approaching rustling from the opposite bank of the stream. Malaika stayed put. To this day she cannot explain what her eyes registered.
    A 'thing' stepped out of the shadows into the sunlight. She was looking at a bipedal creature about six feet tall, mostly humanoid but for the reptilian skin, vertical slit amber eyes, and bear like claws on its fingers and raptor toes. The crocodilian snout, teeth, and tail were also something to behold.
    Malaika had heard of the Mokele- Mbembe but she couldn't tell if this was it. Heck she couldn't even tell how she was feeling just then! Both just froze as if sizing each other up.
    The way this thing looked she should have been fleeing for her life! However, scanning its frame and finally settling on its eyes, she felt...nothing!
    It was no hallucination because this thing hunched over and drank from the stream, not in the least worried about her presence, then proceeded to give her one last look before turning around and melting right back into the thick jungle greenery, not to be seen again.
    Having never felt threatened, Malaika still visits her favorite spot like daily mass! She has yet to see the thing again, but these are the impossibly vast jungles of Central Africa after all.
    17/10/21
    ©yours_trulyy

  • madinah_writes 8w

    Despite all the questions you've asked,
    All the jokes they've cracked.
    All the rights they demanded,
    You still voted from them.
    Despite all the questions left, unanswered.
    All the words with it's true meanings, covered up and uncorrected.
    All the words that are buried, left to be never remembered.
    Yet, people rolled the night in a paper, and smoked it in a pipe.
    In memory of kidnapped children.
    Your kidnapped children,
    Our abducted children.
    Justice is requested,
    And all you told them was to go back to bed.
    How?
    Just how would they sleep?!
    When you hurt their softest feelings of love and trust, really deep?!
    Tomorrow would be better,
    Let's burn our light of hope and fill our thirst as we suffer.
    Youth jobless, graduates homeless.
    Yet, the orphans are left hopeless.
    In an independent state with democratic government.
    As if that wasn't enough,
    You still voted for them.

    © Madinah_Writes



    ***

    Just me pooling out my thoughts and feelings on Africa's government. We're built with Rich history, and blessed with human, material and natural resources. I still wonder why we're trying to limp when other continents are flying. ����




    #vote #reality #Africa #poem #miraquill #Africanpolitics #government #writerscommunity #writersnetwork #writer #writersbay #poverty #wod #masses #life

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    You Still Voted For Them

    ©madinah_writes

  • cassiopeia_sky 9w

    Dear White People

    Let's have a conversation about How you really feel about Black People...

    We are now in the 21st century yet we are still dealing with all of your insecurities...

    Black Lives Matter you march and yell then go home singing a different tale...

    Why do we still have to fight for our rights as a human being to live in your corrupt European society...

    No longer will we water down ourselves to make our causes just...

    You can miss us with making anything more digestible or comfortable those days are long gone...

    Reminder people of color that may be your friend, co-worker or acquaintance is not a shield of protection...

    Ancestorally we are entering times where systemic racism will no longer be tolerated without a Revolution...

    We are the Kings and Queens that you so distastefully discarded...

    Risen from the dead to rightfully claim what was so blatantly taken with a price on our head...
    ©cassiopeia_sky

  • madinah_writes 9w

    This is a myth/story/forklore about how Osun river came in existence. Osun is a river found in osun state, Osogbo, Nigeria. It is seen as saviour to the people. Osun was invaded by fulanis, popularly know as herdsmen. They're immigrate from City to city around Africa. The name of the town was derived from the water which was once, a small river. Now, millions for worshippers visits her from across the world. Osun had a deep history and rich culture. It's origin is Elemi, another river from the town where my mum hails from. Elemi (The owner of spirits) is believed to have supernatural powers. As it is, fishes from there can never be cooked. So are other aquamarine that lives in the river. Africa is rich is history. Many are yet to be found.


    Osun// Our Guide


    ***


    Long ago,
    In time of war and fights between tribes. Travellers flooded in with bows and arrows.
    Taken over the indegen's land and brides.
    Citizens flee,
    Letting strangers take over their country.
    Migrating like lost lambs into thick forests,
    They were faced by a river despite the burning detest.
    Eating fruits and leaves,
    The river satisfied them.
    Every night, their priest would hear a female's voice he just couldn't condemn.
    Every night, he would walk into the water, begging it to show them light.
    The river, however,
    Had a queen with skin like moon.
    Her body truly radiant, her name was Osun.
    She then proposed to the priest.
    If your people can worship me, I would grant all your wishes and assist.
    Every night, the people would pray.
    Show us light, lead to the right way.
    Meanwhile, when the day boasters.
    The water queen sent spirits to poison the imposters.
    One after another, they died.
    All their hard work went asunder.
    Rivers flow, worshippers increased.
    They gave last rights to all their deceased.
    Food grew in aboundance, so is fish and clear water.
    With Osun's assistance, the city and population grew wider.
    Osun river,
    Till this very day.
    Has more followers,
    And expands all the way.
    © Madinah_Writes


    #Osun #ocean #river #myth #nigeria #miraquill #writerscommunity #tale #truelifehappenings #war #reality #writersbay #Africa

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    Osun; The River Goddess

    ©madinah_writes

  • draydee 10w

    Sin as beautiful as when Adam fell with Eve
    Clasped in oneness like we'd lose grasp of each other if we let go
    With every thrust she calls out to God with labored breath
    Almost as if she was asking him to rescue her from my clutches
    But even God knows those calls aren't those of someone praying to be rescued.


    ©draydee

  • draydee 10w

    3:44pm
    As I stared into the horizon waiting for the taxi to move
    I felt her head rest gently on my shoulder, asleep
    Rest easy, black queen
    I don't have to know your name to offer you a shoulder to lean on.

    ©draydee

  • madinah_writes 12w

    Catching glimpse of this echoing city, burning into flames of ashes.
    Carrying it's guilt in me, like a miserable pregnant girl.
    Pressing my falling head against hers, like that of a baby's.
    Saying her name like a protection prayer.
    "God Save Nigeria"
    ©madinah_writes

  • dosbambi 12w

    The state of things in the most populous black nation in the world is alarming, the people charged with the duty to maintain and sustain the country have done nothing but worsen the country.

    They are a set of selfish, wicked and corrupt folks.
    And everyone just want to abandon the country for greener pastures.

    #dosbambiwrites #dosbambiinspires #nigerianpoet #nigerianwriter #nigeria #africa #nigerianpoet

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    What do you say to the one,
    people have totally given up on?
    How do you console her, whose life is been controlled
    by vicious, callous and selfish ones?
    What do you say to the woman pregnant
    with multitudes of potentials?
    But no one will give her a chance,
    her people don't even believe she has a chance.
    How do you console her whose life is ruined,
    before her eyes as she cries helplessly?
    She is Nigeria, stupendously blessed above and beneath,
    yet watches her children's suffering go unending.
    She cries for help, begs for deliverance from the monsters
    whose mission has been to milk her dry, and
    take all that belong to her, her glory, dignity and pride.
    In the hands of these monsters, she wails day and night,
    people say she can't be rescued,
    they say the poison has eaten too deep into her, to be saved,
    no matter what anyone brings to the table for her.
    Her children have given up on her,
    they don't want anything to do with her,
    to them, fighting for her
    is a lost cause, nothing good can ever come out of her,
    the only way to go, is to deny her.
    All alone with her oppressors, she wails day and night,
    wondering why her own people won't fight for her,
    with all of the treasures buried in her!
    ©dosbambi

  • draydee 14w

    I fell in love with an Angel
    Reminiscent of days of old, I made her fall too
    But I stole her heart before she could steal mine
    Ripped it open and learnt God's secrets
    I've tasted the forbidden fruit
    Naked, I ask for my daily bread in pretext.


    ©draydee

  • justiceekure 14w

    O, AFRICAN WOMAN

    O, African woman. Were the early morning wind of the savannah late to welcome your beauty to dawn ?.

    O, how lovely the Cocks and Crickets sang their songs to welcome your presence.

    O, how those dark stretched hairs of yours which sieved the burning suns rays.

    O, how beautifully made those radiant eyes of yours roving and peering into natures beauty. O, how they never failed to cause an attraction.

    O, those lips. Lips the young giggled at after an affectionate kiss. Lips that housed and voiced those calm soothing words which gave hearts a refreshing.

    O, how warm and protected the young felt as they clutch to your bossom.

    O, those straight hands of yours which carried the brisckling clutching sounds of pebbled bracelets. Giving awakening to those enthusiastic neighbours who fancied your beauty.

    O, bent back of yours which toiled the soil with the aid of your fingers as the blazing suns heat gave its hot rays. O, how you ignored its heat.

    O, would a mighty not stop and take a stern look at your alluring beauty made of melanin embroidery ?...

    O, how time has passed given of its ageing to you. Beautiful in knowledge and adorned is your grey headedness of experience.

    O, how delightful you are as you look at the younger woman bringing a reminder to your youthful self.

    O, how flawlessly made you are O beautiful African woman. As your beauty gives awe to a creator.

    ©justiceekure

  • just_jotruth 15w

    OutLaw

    My ego is an anchor
    Holding sinking ships
    Came out of the slum
    Made it through asylum

    Beating victory drum
    You looking at the chosen one
    In a lost generation
    I am a Legion

    Dragon among the beauties
    I spit flames
    withholding nothing
    I want to die empty
    A death with an honor
    ©just_jotruth

  • pjpowers 20w

    LIVE LIFE TO
    THE FULLEST
    BECAUSE WE
    LIVE ONCE
    DO ALL THE
    STUFF YOU
    WANT.


    ©pjpowers

  • draydee 21w

    Made a dozen girls cry
    One made me cry
    Karma is complete
    And now my heart dies.


    ©draydee

  • madinah_writes 21w

    Where is my Wakanda?
    A land with calm coloured sky, like a fairy world.
    Where is my Wakanda?
    A place where culture never fades,
    And my brothers still go to war with swords and spares and arrows and bows.
    Where is my Wakanda.
    An African world where my sisters reflect beauty in themselves 
    And their ivory, black skin shines over the golden afternoon sun.

    Where is my Wakanda?
    A place of giant warriors and mighty Kings.
    They sit side my side, solving a puzzled cases and life tests that takes other continents a million years to settle.
    Where is my Wakanda?
    A place where woman with no hair can be crowned, queen.
    Where fashion isn't seen as a temporary thing.


    Where is my Wakanda?
    A country fully equipped with science and technology, never seen anywhere else.
    A place where tradition and culture is admired.
    Where Peace and unity, like oxygen is acquired.
    A land where men and women are seen as one.
    Equal.
    Person.
    They lead a troop of army at war,
    Yet, feel the heat beat of science and technology.
    A land where foods and fruits are harvested instead of imported.

    Where is my Wakanda?
    An African land with the richest natural blessings...
    Enriched with human, material and natural resources
    A land of honour and culture and discovery.
    A land with the highest amount of man power.
    Where tradition rules like Kings and princes.
    Where culure is recognized, like queens and princesses.
    Everyone have their roles, they feel their tasks in their names and it's unique meanings, they see themselves.

    Where is my Wakanda?
    A land with no discrimination, racism or ethnicity.
    A land were electricity last in all seasons till infinity.
    Where boys are marked as men
    Where girls are crowned as women.
    Where maturity and creativity doesn't have to be measured with age or time.
    Where dreams are never interrupted.

    Where is my Wakanda I ask you?
    I ask you listening with a priceless heart.
    Your knowledge brain is twisted in different languages,
    So please, tell me.
    Where shall we fine peace in all these choas?
    I call on you from the east to the west!
    Where are the son's and daughters of the soil?
    From the south to the north of our mother Africa!
    Whoever you are, where ever you live... I ask you,
    Where shall we get that expensive heart of trust to believe.
    When shall our leaders stop being cheap and selling themselves into the slave-trade of politics.
    And fighting for government seat
    like two rats fighting for a price of meat.

    Where is my Wakanda I ask thee?
    Just tell me...

    © Madinah_Writes

    #Africa #blackculture #blackskin #peaceandunity #mirakee #miraquil #writerscimmunity #world #black #pod #Wakanda

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    Where Is My Wakanda?

    Where is my Wakanda?
    A land with calm coloured sky, like a fairy world.
    Where is my Wakanda?
    A place where culture never fades,
    And my brothers still go to war with swords and spares and arrows and bows.
    Where is my Wakanda.
    An African world where my sisters reflect beauty in themselves 
    And their ivory, black skin shines over the golden afternoon sun.

    Where is my Wakanda?
    A place of giant warriors and mighty Kings.
    They sit side my side, solving a puzzled cases and life tests that takes other continents a million years to settle.
    Where is my Wakanda?
    A place where woman with no hair can be crowned, queen.
    Where fashion isn't seen as a temporary thing.


    Where is my Wakanda?
    A country fully equipped with science and technology, never seen anywhere else.
    A place where tradition and culture is admired.
    Where Peace and unity, like oxygen is acquired.
    A land where men and women are seen as one.
    Equal.
    Person.
    They lead a troop of army at war,
    Yet, feel the heat beat of science and technology.
    A land where foods and fruits are harvested instead of imported.

    Where is my Wakanda?
    An African land with the richest natural blessings...
    Enriched with human, material and natural resources
    A land of honour and culture and discovery.
    A land with the highest amount of man power.
    Where tradition rules like Kings and princes.
    Where culure is recognized, like queens and princesses.
    Everyone have their roles, they feel their tasks in their names and it's unique meanings, they see themselves.

    Where is my Wakanda?
    A land with no discrimination, racism or ethnicity.
    A land were electricity last in all seasons till infinity.
    Where boys are marked as men
    Where girls are crowned as women.
    Where maturity and creativity doesn't have to be measured with age or time.
    Where dreams are never interrupted.

    Where is my Wakanda I ask you?
    I ask you listening with a priceless heart.
    Your knowledge brain is twisted in different languages,
    So please, tell me.
    Where shall we fine peace in all these choas?
    I call on you from the east to the west!
    Where are the son's and daughters of the soil?
    From the south to the north of our mother Africa!
    Whoever you are, where ever you live... I ask you,
    Where shall we get that expensive heart of trust to believe.
    When shall our leaders stop being cheap and selling themselves into the slave-trade of politics.
    And fighting for government seat
    like two rats fighting for a price of meat.

    Where is my Wakanda I ask thee?
    Just tell me...





    ©madinah_writes

  • draydee 21w

    She has me reading old chats when she's not online
    Almost as if she held me spellbound with the crystal ball emoji
    But even is proof God exists
    So cast me not away Sufi woman as I chant Dhikr to you.


    ©draydee

  • aspiringwriter 22w

    The darkest night has suffered a lot to form the brightest sky
    ©aspiringwriter

  • madinah_writes 22w

    Amidst my tears is a hidden laughter.
    Amidst my tears is a lions boldness.
    Amidst my ugliness is a striking beauty.
    Amidst my success is a supportive family

    We lived and wished.
    We've walked through the seven wonders of the this words.
    We've sweat and struggled.
    Walking to somewhere that looks like forever in search of water.
    We've planted crops only found in the garden of Eden.
    We've stuffed out hungry stomachs and filled out died throats.
    From springs and waterfalls and showered directly from the rainbow's shadow.

    Like lizards on the cracked walls
    Like lost lambs on the wilderness
    Like whale in the planet of ocean
    Like doves in the evening sky.
    We've shared experiences within our golden homes.




    © Madinah_Writes


    #family #blacklife #blackgirl #africa #mirakee #pod #writersnetwork #miraquail #wod #family #home

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    Amidst My Family

    Amidst my tears is a hidden laughter.
    Amidst my tears is a lions boldness.
    Amidst my ugliness is a striking beauty.
    Amidst my success is a supportive family



    ©madinah_writes

  • madinah_writes 22w

    If independence is achieved on a platter of gold,
    The institution of colonialism will remain forever it strong and old.

    Yet, we dream and follow promises complain their fake-interests.
    Everybody was creating the blames,
    Nobody was fixing the problems.

    Long Ago,
    In the African World.
    The old father's the young immediately after sunsets.
    When it was time for storytelling.
    Our folklores, Alo ati Orin ibile.
    Time for entertainment and moral lesson.
    When was the normal in the black society.

    Grandma tell me this!
    Grandma tell me that!
    Grandma tell me why the tortoise have a rough, shelly back?
    Why is the dog a hunter's pet?
    And why is lion the king of the jungle?
    That was so much fun,
    The children would gather under the gaint mango tree.
    Singing historical and cultural songs.
    Alo o! Aloooo!!
    Follows another set of mind blowing riddles.
    Flashing their smiles, showing off their expensive dimples.

    The children would rack their minds to answer grandma's questions.
    Brain cracking, riddle follows.
    Then, as I heard.
    Children would laugh to Grandma's stories and ask brainstorming questions.
    With words of wisdom where everyone could think by themselves.
    So I was told...

    And now, I'm growing.
    To what our life and living has become;
    Like a bird's empty nest, that was once filled with life.
    Now, I stare at the African life of nothingness.
    What I see is failed promises and bloodshed.
    Bokoharam, Herdsmen attack, EndSARS now!
    A dark, starless world in silence.
    As the youth of today cry and seek for the best.
    Hoping for a future that like a fairytale, might never come.

    When the best is traded for selflessness.
    What are we doing?
    Where are we going?
    Who is our tomorrow?
    When today is full of sorrow.
    Are we getting wiser?
    When all we depend on is Google and the internet?
    Fake news, swimming in the air like flies in dirt.
    Are we even blessed?
    When we await betterment from our so called leaders.
    Would there ever be a change or are all these sufferings are permanent?
    Year after year, we await to fill another hungry lion.
    Or have we forsaken the gods of the land?
    Which is which? I need to know.
    What is next, we need to think.
    Why is our tomorrow,
    Laying at the end of the brink?

    War of independence,
    Seen through it's eyes.
    That sees no transformation,
    All in the name of change.
    They change for the post of power that never satisfies them.
    The war of independence is war of death!

    Lasted with several years with thousand souls, dead.
    Dusted and forgotten.
    Women and children,
    Expecting genuine freedom from colonial rule!
    The independence they promised was not real, ungranted.
    Everyone was hungry to sit by the side of the power pot!

    The rich were getting richer and the poor, poorer.
    We were made as a stepping stones for the colonial masters. 
    Those days and still now.
    Independence turned out to be opposite,
    Corruption and injustice.

    © Madinah_Writes


    #Justice #Africa #folklores #mirakee #miraquill #Acienttimes #Yoruba #writersnetwork #Storytelling #prose #poetry #Reality #thoughts #democrasy #politics #politicalpower #writerbay #wriyerscommunity #pod #qod #wod

    Read More

    A Struggle For Justice.

    ©madinah_writes

  • madinah_writes 23w

    If independence is achieved on a platter of gold,
    The institution of colonialism will remain forever it strong and old.

    Yet, we dream and follow promises complain their fake-interests.
    Everybody was creating the blames,
    Nobody was fixing the problems.

    Long Ago,
    In the African World.
    The old father's the young immediately after sunsets.
    When it was time for storytelling.
    Our folklores, Alo ati Orin ibile.
    Time for entertainment and moral lesson.
    When was the normal in the black society.

    Grandma tell me this!
    Grandma tell me that!
    Grandma tell me why the tortoise have a rough, shelly back?
    Why is the dog a hunter's pet?
    And why is lion the king of the jungle?
    That was so much fun,
    The children would gather under the gaint mango tree.
    Singing historical and cultural songs.
    Alo o! Aloooo!!
    Follows another set of mind blowing riddles.
    Flashing their smiles, showing off their expensive dimples.

    The children would rack their minds to answer grandma's questions.
    Brain cracking, riddle follows.
    Then, as I heard.
    Children would laugh to Grandma's stories and ask brainstorming questions.
    With words of wisdom where everyone could think by themselves.
    So I was told...

    And now, I'm growing.
    To what our life and living has become;
    Like a bird's empty nest, that was once filled with life.
    Now, I stare at the African life of nothingness.
    What I see is failed promises and bloodshed.
    Bokoharam, Herdsmen attack, EndSARS now!
    A dark, starless world in silence.
    As the youth of today cry and seek for the best.
    Hoping for a future that like a fairytale, might never come.

    When the best is traded for selflessness.
    What are we doing?
    Where are we going?
    Who is our tomorrow?
    When today is full of sorrow.
    Are we getting wiser?
    When all we depend on is Google and the internet?
    Fake news, swimming in the air like flies in dirt.
    Are we even blessed?
    When we await betterment from our so called leaders.
    Would there ever be a change or are all these sufferings are permanent?
    Year after year, we await to fill another hungry lion.
    Or have we forsaken the gods of the land?
    Which is which? I need to know.
    What is next, we need to think.
    Why is our tomorrow,
    Laying at the end of the brink?

    War of independence,
    Seen through it's eyes.
    That sees no transformation,
    All in the name of change.
    They change for the post of power that never satisfies them.
    The war of independence is war of death!

    Lasted with several years with thousand souls, dead.
    Dusted and forgotten.
    Women and children,
    Expecting genuine freedom from colonial rule!
    The independence they promised was not real, ungranted.
    Everyone was hungry to sit by the side of the power pot!

    The rich were getting richer and the poor, poorer.
    We were made as a stepping stones for the colonial masters. 
    Those days and still now.
    Independence turned out to be opposite,
    Corruption and injustice.

    © Madinah_Writes


    #Justice #Africa #folklores #mirakee #miraquill #Acienttimes #Yoruba #writersnetwork #Storytelling #prose #poetry #Reality #thoughts #democrasy #politics #politicalpower #writerbay #wriyerscommunity #pod #qod #wod

    Read More

    A Struggle For Justice.

    ©madinah_writes