Awake, thou sleeping heart!
Awake, and kiss
The love – lorn brow
Of this ebon lass,
Dear Africa,
Whose virgin charms
Ensnare the love-lit hearts
Of venturing youth
From other lands
Awake, sweet Africa
Demand thy love,
Thou sleeping heart!
When the all-summer sun
Paints the leafy boughs
With golden rays,
Know then, thou sleeping heart,
Dear Africa stands
Knowing at thy door.
Tochukwu Ezebube is a passionate poet and founder of Poem Collections. With a deep love for African verse and a commitment to sharing diverse poetic voices, Tochukwu curates a rich tapestry of poems that celebrate the beauty of words from Africa and around the world. Join him on this poetic journey at Poem Collections, where the magic of language unfolds.
Wake before the dawn and you will witness the World’s slowest embrace The moon and sun hold hands distant lovers sharing space. Hues of violet and amber spill over the horizon. The morning is a reminder that even though the night is full of terrors, dark will always give way to dawn.
In this world where we forget we are shadows of who we are, and the true expressions we form in that other where, souls, we live, are here grimaces and signs. All is night and confusion that exists among us here: projections, smoke scattered from the fire whose glow is hidden when we look at…
Oh, love as long as you can love, Oh, love as long as love you may! The hour will come, the hour will come: By graves lamenting you will stay. And ever keep your heart aglow, And let it foster love with care, As long as still another heart Beats with it warmly anywhere. If…
A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a long journey: The ways deep and the weather sharp, The very dead of winter.’ And the camels galled, sorefooted, refractory, Lying down in the melting snow. There were times we regretted The summer palaces on…
The stars have departed, the sky in monocle surveys the worldunder The stars have departed, and I – where am I? Stretch, stretch, O antennae, to clutch at this hour, fulfilling each moment in a broken monody.
My hat was run over by a trolley yesterday. This morning my coat took a walk to some place far away. This afternoon my shoes happened to get assassinated. — I’m still here? that’s just i t.
