how long will you fight
little ant
before you are crushed?
surviving rocks and
oppressive jungle
you felt invincible
strode on the sands
of the great lake
mocking the hissing waves,
yet you cling to a stone
in its chuckling belly
while they reach increasingly
for your soul-
not even the printed page
floating so invitingly
can save you from wrath.
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.
Ambassadors of poverty areThe corrupt masters of the economyWith their head abroadAnd anus at homePatriots in reverse orderDetermined merchants of lootsWho boost the economy of their colonial orderTo impoverish brothers and sisters at home Ambassadors of poverty areThe saviours of the peopleOffice loafers in the guise of workersBarons of incompetenceWith kleptomaniac fingersAnd suckling filamentsPosition occupants…
I am like a slip of comet, Scarce worth discovery, in some corner seen Bridging the slender difference of two stars, Come out of space, or suddenly engender’d By heady elements, for no man knows; But when she sights the sun she grows and sizes And spins her skirts out, while her central star Shakes…
we cannot see far into the distance neither can we see what used to stand there but today we can see trees separated by wind and air and if we dare to look beneath the soil we will find roots reaching out for each other and in their silent inter-twining create the hidden landscape of…
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…
1E-gyptIn Af-ricaMesopo-tamiaMero-eTheNileSilicaglassand brittleSa-hara, Tim-Buctu, Gaothe hills ofAhafo, windsOf the Ni-ger, Kurmasiand Kiverdown theCoiled congoand downthat black riverthat tides us to hell HELLIn the waterBrownBoys of Bushongodrowned in theBlue and the bitter Salt of wave- gulliedFerdinand’s seaSoft windsto san Salvador, Christopher, Christ, and no NoahOr dove to promise us, grimthrough it was, the simple sal vation…
Coming and going these several seasons,Do stay out of the baobab tree,Follow where you please your kindred spirits If indoors is not enough for you.True, it leaks through the thatchWhen floods brim the banks,And the bats and owlsOften tear in at night through the eaves,And at harmattan, the bamboo wallsAre ready tinder for the fireThat…
