A tribute to Nelson Mandela

Rolihlahla, mama called him
The innocent troublemaker of the town
He had his life ahead of him;
A future to look forward to

The injustice of the government
Fuelled the raging fire in him.
‘Madiba’, they nicknamed him-
An activist for peace was born.

Equal rights was the target
Peace was the only key
Justice was his drive
His people must be free.

In the fight for freedom
He ended up prisoner,
Locked behind bars
Tagged 46664.

But metal bars never stopped him,
Not the hard labour or even the lime mining
He had a reason to fight
And if need be, to die.

On Robben Island
A community was formed.
A generation of young activists
Who shared in his fight.

It spread on like wildfire
Soon all voices united
The people sang and cried
Free nelson Mandel!

On that faithful day of spring
In the year 1990
When for the first time, a baby cried
Alas! He was set free.

And now, he has achieved his dream
The rest is up to us all
We must be the voice of the underprivileged
46664…it’s in our hands


The greatest leader of our time,
Spent 27 years in prison
How far would you go to help your brother?
How much would you give of your time?

Remember the number,
Remember the man: Nelson Mandela
Because from now on,
It’s in our hands!







© The poets voice~~~ September 2008, All rights reserved.

Africa

Thus she had lain

sugercane sweet

deserts her hair

golden her feet

mountains her breasts

two Niles her tears.

Thus she has lain

Black through the years.

Over the white seas

rime white and cold

brigands ungentled

icicle bold

took her young daughters

sold her strong sons

churched her with Jesus
bled her with guns.

Thus she has lain.

Now she is rising

remember her pain

remember the losses

her screams loud and vain

remember her riches

her history slain

now she is striding
although she has lain.

by

MAYA ANGELOU

another blessed poem to share with you all.!

© The poets voice~~~ May 2008, All rights reserved.

Africa Is You

Black people,

Whatever shade your skin may be.

You are Africa,

Always Africa to me.

She dances in your eyes

To the drum beat

That is your heart.

Her roots have crossed waters

From Nigeria to New York.

Her spirit lives on,

In this black spectrum she is us.

Echoing in our laughter,

Our pain and sorrow too.

Black people you are Africa,

Africa is you.


Walter H. Rooks Jr.

just wanted to share this...for you reading pleasure!

© The poets voice~~~ April 2008, All rights reserved.