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kelly Aug 2018
i was born with a scent
of wild flowers in the air,
the smell of wood-fires,
and the cooking ***
I was born to be proud
of the blacked badge
of my skin.

my first tears flowed
from the sting of smoke
from the pain of the thorns
in my naked small feet.

How i hated , at first
the long hours, herding cattles
Shift_But i loved the hills
And the river-when it gave me  fish!

i learned to listen
To the song of birds
To watch the colours
of down and sunset
I learn to love
The land that gave me
my own black badge
The badge of Africa
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])

Once upon a time in the city of Omurate
In the southern part of Ethiopia
Omurate that is on Ethiopian boundary with Kenya
There were two prosperous animal families
Living side by side as good neighbours
in glory and pomp of riches
Each family was ostensibly rich
And rambunctious in social styles
They were the families of African rat family
And the Jewish cat family; the city belonged to them
They all enjoyed stocks of desert scorpions from Todanyang
From the savanna desert of Northern Kenya,
The two families also enjoyed to feed on desert locusts
On which they regularly fed without food squabbles
                               Locust themselves they flew from Lowarang to Omurate
From Lowarang a desert region in Kenya, to their city of Omurate
Sometimes the Jewish cat family enjoyed an extra dish
In form of puff adder flesh, especially the steak of the puff adder muscle
Puff adder were cheaply available in plenty at the lakeshore,
Lakeshores of Lake Turkana
At point which river Ormo enters into Lake Turkana
So the cat was happy and relaxed
Even it rarely mewed,  
Neighbours never often heard its mewing sound
The rat also enjoyed plenty of milk with no strain
Easily gotten from the rustled cattles
Cattle rustled by the Merilee; a warrior tribe in Omurate.

That day the cat had gulped milk since morning
Even its stomach was bulging
Like that of Kenyan state officer
The rat had milk all over the house
In the kitchen, milk allover
In the sitting room, milk in abundance
In the wash, room milk all through
On the bed, milk and stuffs of milk
The rat was bored with nothing to be enticed
Sometimes plenty of milk can become a bother
The rat mused to itself in foolish African empathy
That may be the cat is starving in pangs of hunger
With nothing to drink, or may be it has no milk
When the milk is rotting here in my house
It is un-African for food to rot in your house
When the neighbour’s belly is not full,
On these thoughts the rat washed its legs, and hands
Finished up with its face,
Put on its white short trouser and a green top
It stuffed its tail inside its white short trouser,
The rat poured milk into two pots,
each *** was full to the brim
It carried one in its left hand
And balanced another on its head
In its right hand was an African walking stick
For the elders known as Pakora
The rat took off to the home of the cat
In full feat of animal love and philanthropy
Whistling its favourite poem;
An Ode to a good neighbour,
Walking carefully lest it spills brimful milk,
It entered into the house of the cat without haste
Neither knocking nor waiting to be told come in
In that spectacular charisma of a good neighbour,
When the cat saw the rat it giggled two short giggles
And almost got choked by indecision
For it had been long since this happened,
Since the cat had dine on milk leave alone rat meat
The rat said to the Jewish cat that my brother
Have milk I have brought for you
Have it and sip here it is; the real milk,
In devilish calmness the cat told the rat;
Put it for me on the table, thank you,
But my friend Mr. rat don’t go away; there is more
More for you to help me in addition to milk,
Continue my brother Mr. Cat, how can I help you?
Don’t call me your brother; bursted the cat,
For it is long since I ate the rat meat
And you know rat meat is our stable food
In a frenetic feat of powerlessness the rat was confused
In attempt to save itself
it pleaded that my dear elder, I was
Only having plenty of milk in my house
And to us African rats, it is a taboo
To have a lot of food in your house
When the neighbour’s belly is not full
So I only brought you the present of Milk
Please have it and drink,
Without taciturnity the Cat retorted in persistence;
I know and I am thankful for your good manners
But remember with us Jewish cats it is heinous sin
Forget of a taboo, it is blasphemy against the living
God for one of us to leave the rat free from our house
For you rats are the only stable and kosher food God blessed for us
The Jewish rat family all over the world
So shut up your mandibles, I am to eat you first
Then I will take milk later as a relish.

With its herculean paw the cat crushed the rat
With mighty of the leopard culture
Throwing away the white trouser
And green top from the torso of the rat
The cat ate the rat with voracity of the devil
After which it punctuated its mid day appetite
With slow and relaxed sipping of milk
Slowly and slowly as it felt its internal greatness
And hence the African proverbial cry that;
Behold foolish angst kills the African rat!
Praise thy Lord Our GOD, Praise GOD In His Sanctuary.!
Apr 29, 2015
1View0Likes0Comments
Praise thy Lord Our GOD from Heavens, Praise THEE In Heigths.! Praise GOD All His Angels, Praise GOD All His Hosts.! 
Praise HIM, Sun And Moon, Praise HIM All You Stars Of Light.! Praise GOD Thou Heavens, and Thou Waters above thy Heavens.! Let them Praise thy Name Oh Lord Our GOD, for HE Commanded and thou were Created. HE also Established thou Forever And Ever, He Made And Mode A Decree which shall not Pass away. Praise thy LORD from thy Earth, thou Great Sea Creatures and All thy depths... Fire and Hails, Snow and Clouds, Stormy wind, Fulfilling HIS Word.. Mountains And All Hills, Fruitful Trees and All Cedars.. Beasts and All Cattles, Creeping things and Flying Fowl... Kings of the Earth and All Kinds, Princes and All Judges Of the Earth. both Young Men and Maidens, Old Men and Children..  Let them Praise thy Name of the Lord Our GOD, For HIS Name Alone Is Exalted, His Glory is Above the Earth And Heaven... And He Has Exalted thy Horn Of His People, the Praise Of All His Saints Of thy Children Of Isreal, A People Near to Him, Praise thy LORD... Halleluyah... GOD Is Our Strength.. GOD Is Love.. GOD With Us.!!!
Praise thy Lord Our GOD, Praise GOD In His Sanctuary.!
Mohd Arshad Mar 2014
Hopping grasshoppers!
I welcome you to the newly-born summer.
Hopping grasshoppers!
I invite you to the feast at my house.

The farmers are lying on their willow cots,
And his illustrious cattles trod no more.
The birds are cosy on their straws-studded beds.

Over the swinging grass in the meadows
How beautifully you play, you fly, you leap.
The breeze is balmy and sweet with your rhymes.

Don't go away from my eyes!
My ideal! So brave, so young in the sunny showers!
Kuvar Jan 2018
Cattle’s rear by men
Ask for less yes grass and water
Fulani herdsmen in my country
Agitates for too much for their cattle’s  
Their taste for human blood
70 gallons the last they drank
And innocent yokes of unborn fetus
Sat there my over 70 president
His hand fastened to his chin
All he can do is chew his cud
And cows coup and cheerfully moo
If we all die who will eat their beef
I can smell the blood of my brother
Wasted on the map of Nigeria
Do you find rest in the Aso Rock
While many continue to die in cold blood

KUVAR
70 people were killed and all in the name of what does the world need to know cattles don't live in Castles.    It is painful that we live in a world of probleming solutions
Dark n Beautiful May 2017
The young people have exalted notions, because they have not been humbled by life or learned its necessary limitations; moreover, their hopeful disposition makes them think themselves as equal to great things and that means having exalted notions.
They would always rather do noble deed than useful ones. Their lives are regulated more by moral feeling than by reasoning all their mistakes are in the direction of doing things excessively and vehemently. They overdo everything they love too much hate too much and the same with everything else. (Aristotle)**


The Hereford cattles talk quietly among themselves
The commute home on the B train was noisier than ever
The passenger beside them youth squirmed and frigid
Youth of today is selfish and only think of themselves
If you asked for a passed, they will give you a laugh
If the elderly asked for the seat, they will give it to
Their backpacks, and scream louder, old geeks

Discipline, like if it’s outdated: no structure
A lost generation without stability:
A dark history, I lay awake and wonder
How can we fix this? Problem, problem
And more problem heading their way

While in the field the Hereford cattle
talk quietly among themselves
Nursing their calf without being asked of their mothers
to cover up their babies faces:
Pramod Shinde Nov 2015
Down the windows,
I see two cows and a goat
A spreaded field throughout
Composition, verve and opus

Alas! Stare bounces in his eyes
At mercurial, calm fissure
At lost petals, distressed debt
At a cowboy or at modern hobbit

Staring drives endlessly
Volcano ponders towards valves
Cowboy gone, so his cattles
Leaving dark hapless mirage

Dusk attains at windows
Wits and sights go vanished
Refraction seizures into echo
Gaze perceive him in mirror-copy
Ronjoy Brahma Sep 2016
How cool is the wind flowing
Blooming flowers in the garden
Sweet sing flying branch of the tree
Happiness is my heart and soul
Plants is dancing in my eyes beautiful
How cool is the wind flowing
Everyone is beautiful in this season
Sun shine on the east sky
Cattles in the field and eat grass
Target in road has welcomed me
How cool is the wind flowing
Happiness is my heart and soul
Born in a remote village somewhere in the North
Yaro
Where the fulanli herdsmen twirl sticks as they guard cattles
Yaro
Makes one remember that boy in the bible who tended to his father's sheep all day
Yaro
Life was rosy, bed warm and cosy.
Mother was called "Mama" and age stricken father was "abba".
I sometimes wondered who matchmaked them
Mother looked like she was babysitting the world
Father looked like he was going to die any minute
But they loved me and that was all my infant mind wanted
For you see I was nothing but a
Yaro.

I loved the mornings, when goats where being let out of sheds
And I ran around the huts in our compounds
In between my father's leg and over my mother's lap
Bowls of koko and ***** of kosai couldn't quieten me.
I never knew your breakfast of "Kellogs varieties" or
One apple a day, to keep the doctor at bay.
For you see I was nothing but a
Yaro.
But I was alright or so I thought.
The afternoons were spent chasing Hassan and Hussein
Those "wicked" twins who would not allow our chickens rest
My world was coloured brown, brown goats, brown huts
Brown sand, brown faces and maybe brown hearts.
Brown was the only colour in the world except of course
The sky,  which was blue sometimes and white at other times.

One day, when you were still in homes covered with zinc
Father pulled me out of bed and handed me over to some fierce looking men
Mother wouldn't look at me, Hassan and Hussein stood far away.
Father was the one holding me so I knew he was not dead yet.
He handed me my new pair of slippers and pointed to the men
"They'll teach you life," he said.
"But.." I replied only to be cut short by the sting of a slap
"You're nothing but a..."
"Yaro", I replied.
So this was it..I was leaving me behind.
Mother hid behind her layers of clothing like a coward
Father stood proud like an English man
I stood with all of them around me feeling nothing
But what my Yaro mind allowed me to feel.
Odd Odyssey Poet May 2022
Trodden puddles; muddy waters of cattles laiden on the
path of a dry river bed. The surrounding being ever present
of one's land loss. It's love (like many hearts) so bare to the
humid air, under these heated moments. Skins have broken
out, in my rash decisions.

Don't butter me up, to spread the falseness of a left hand.
Though it's right isn't always holding onto doing right.

Shall I tend the field—once after the herd passes? Let no puddle
be open on where you walk.
Hugh Lovzewe Oct 2010
haikus
sheeps and cattles
eating grassesss
We rip through bulletproof vest
Expose meat on your chest
Curved like a crest since my adolescent
I was made for the battle snappin' rattles herd em in like cattles death to enemies who tattle?
My wordsmith be sharper than a barber blade sliced then fade this is a takeway
Like tom hanks they the get the cast away
Casket I means on display so bump the negativity
When me and Mac come through ya know how we do
Rip through vocals and spinal chords
Mortal combat bloat em like snorlax stuff em like kotex give em a klennex
Cuz they bleeding from they neck
Like an attack from Black Dracula
Rhymes spectacular connect with my vernacular
I be the rappin' consular eat em up like jentacular
braille em like macular
Once the ******* rhymes they embrace saccular
Knock amateurs yo Mac diesel we too ******* for em
Its the aeon of seclorum rhyming in foursomes me myself and I and the universe connectin' durums
Sound the drums the wars is coming techs is humming you can see the pain dumped in
Hearts exposed from sin tacklin' the uncontrollable djinn'
Huh I was made from within
A spiritual divine giving cursed inside a blessing
Flash minds like a bang from a Smith and Wesson
Hope these critics learning they lesson
Im a king with the five point stetson
Turn fakes emcees into a depression
Causing aggression make em change directions
Persona skills pursuing pressing with my intellectual weapons
Takin' souls captive addendum to my collection it was destined
I give em mercy once began intercessions
Whoaaaa!!!
Shalini Ray Feb 2014
When life leaves a body
where does it go?
Somewhere in the fields
when farmers sow?
or in the meadows
where the cattles graze
maybe it hides in the sickle
the reaper holds
or maybe on the roof tops of tall buildings
or in a secluded place.
Does it pass through the crowds
whistling past the hair of a ******* the phone?
Or gets caught in windchimes
playing strange tones
maybe it goes in the infant
newly born
or goes in the aisle
where love is sworn
maybe it falls out in the tears cried alone
or whispers in the wind which are never known
where does life go once it leaves a body?
Does it go to a new place,a new farm,perhaps a new city
or does it travel with a man to eternity.
Drunk poet Jan 2018
I've met maggots in my jar of salt
Boomerang they say
But quite interesting I found them
.
Like cattles, evil had roamed in my thoughts
Devil they called me
But really adventurous I found them
.
I had copulation with entangled women
With barriers on them, like mango trees embargoed by landlords
But more pleasurable they seemed
.
I tasted the venom of snakes
They touched my soul like an airplane
Because above all these,
one kind of death will surely **** a man.
.
Balogun David Tolulope
©️drunkpoet
You are not a battleground
For people who can’t fight their own battles.
You are not a milk giving cow
To some monster feeding only on cattles.
You are a pure ocean
Not an animal to be slaughtered.
You ought to love yourself
And stop taking others’ polluted thoughts in your holy waters.
Jamil Issah Aug 2019
•I do not seek a wife

•to fetch and carry

•to cook and scrub

•to slave under my roof

•oh future wife,I want to wed

•because I love

•and I seek a life companion

•I seek a friend in need

•to pay your bride price would be to buy 1000 cattles for alms

•when we are wed

•You shall not walk

•you shall not baffle

•together we shall sit at table

•in a comfortable chair

•and eat

•with our fingers or spoon

•as we feed each other

•when I walk beside you in the street

•with your hands on my shoulders

•and my hands on yours

•side by side

•arm in arm

•just like Romeo and Juliet

•we can also pen down a romantic love story

•you would be my world

•my source of happiness

•motivator

•the way I'm glued to you

•nothing and I repeat nothing

•would seperate me from you

•even death should find a resting place

•you're one of the purpose of my life and a priority

•and I will live to fulfill it

•I will neva keep you waiting!!*

            #Written by:
      *Jahmhiel YunG✍
FuzzyFluffy Nov 2019
Standing in the queue zombified and hypnotized... consuming the proverbial apple

Becoming Eve

domesticated and silent... cattles from the society farm  trying to act "human"  happily kept captive and unware of their  own hypocrisy
Gregory Dun Aer Mar 2019
If you're looking for reasons to hate yourself,
don't help the demons win your battles.
They say cattles don't bleat like sheep,
and I guess there's a green for every tree,
but when it comes down to it- you-
You're human and a beautiful one at that.
I know I remind you almost always about it,
but I just wanted you to never doubt it,
because clouded sky mostly leads to storms
and bub you shouldn't be torn into thunders,
sold like lightning onto tin roof.
You are amazing like the crew you carry around you,
and I am forever grateful to have known you.
Beautiful girl, don't give up, hold what love
you can and trust me when I tell you,
you'll find an amazing man to hold that love too.
I'm sorry westham girl, I wished things were easier. I wished I could give you what you wanted - but I'm glad it's not me that you're with. There's no amount of remarkable that you don't deserve; take the world because one day someone will hand it to you. Keep it, you deserve it.
Yenson Jan 2019
wow!...this is hilarious

far from the madding crowd
pigs, sheeps cattles and goats
herd mentality, herd hysteria
deliciously deluded, seriously afflicted
total loss of contact with reality
poor pathetic crippled brains

grapevine buzzing, he's got fizz
hysteria occurs, quick, she's coming over,
attention all stations, deluded comprehension
deluded conclusion, deluded opposing actions
opposing actions, deluded pitiful commoners
they've got the jungle fever real bad

Turn off the hot water, everybody suffers
Don't make a sound, listen to all his actions
remember we are sabotaging, action stations
A man that went of his Mrs when faint moustache grew
Is now a man that like men, greatest absurdity in the world
Never mind, put men in his face, wow! ridiculous nonsense

Get the witless wordsmith on online
reel out usual mix of deluded fantasies
The confused confusing, dribbling and frothing writes
By drooling boneheads and mental patients incorps
We are opposing, sabotaging, obstructing and **** blocking
It's all in their heads, they've lost their minds and reasoning

Oh my God, the world has gone madest from mindless-tation
That old lady explains "they're more out than in" the asylum
The joke is, they have eggs on their faces again looking stupid
but they'll do it again, too deluded, too poisoned, too far gone
Peeping toms, watchers, listeners, street actors, all raving fools
I'll keep them on their toes and play with their stupidity

What a laugh, what a right carry-on, dingos at play
Somebody please restore their minds, this jokers are ridiculous
The truth is right before you, stated clearly not even in poetic terms
I ain't got no lover, ain't playing no games and I am as straight as a ****** spirit level.
Even a hint of moustache will put me off the prettiest woman
Man to man, god forbid never ever worth my consideration

Now you all go take your medication and get help with your ridiculous delusions. Honestly your behaviours are pathetic
even by common standards for mindless morons
Where's some dignity, when you all behave so stupidly
If your assessment is correct and real, you'll know if I want
to court a lady, I'll do it regardless and **** the consequences
You psychos mean nothing to me, you're cheap dull cowards
Oh! cheap Bubbly, I'll buy one as a gift for my Sister, late Xmas present!
simple.
sensible people buy in block when cheap, come see my Drinks cabinet, dumb busy bodies.
Yenson Jul 2023
And in the scant arenas of ungracious limited
they mill and cavort in talentless skits
frailing adornments in the fineries of nothing
it is as always to do what they do best
for in foggy mists blazes the inherent rituals
of overcompensating moribund minds

And age old fears embraces the samenesses
tasting damp salts in unison breeds
red diktats snaps out ingloriously force fed
overeact overseason overcompensate
herds free will and actions die to commands
and in fear weak heads acquiesce

Like sheep like cattles like leemings et all
overcompensating as wont
dare yo talk smile befriend or show kinship
to the regal fellow in crosshairs
all go and batter thine inferiority complexes
be base be crude be rude

And in the scant arenas of ungracious limited
coralled in fear of expulsion
fragile egos crave mass invite and acceptance
in dread to be thought kowtowing
they quake and flip overcompensating for show
yet just cowards showing calling cards
Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect. Mark Twain

Sometimes the majority just means all the fools are on the same side. John Kennedy

It is not worth an intelligent man's time to be in the majority. By definition, there are already enough people to do that. G. H. Hardy
Yenson Nov 2023
Hear to want they what them tell
in the still of raging calm
stop not to chew cud
as cattles galivant over the latest noise
in excess rumen acidity
they will find the festooned price
and bowels will Sing sing
cattkes wear bells in the Alps
hear of the tell and tell of the hear
we help them to graze
noses in the dirt and muck
There,
I sat on the bench under the chandelier of twistin' florids
After quivers against winds from a turning season
And blessed the earth carpeted with decaying leaves
Where October forespent upon the feathery bank
So I hung my hammock between the trees
And rested my head like a good ol' vagabond

My sketchbook is full of your symbols
Sure I did drink coffee in the morning
But still hazy I am of you

I played with foams aphrodisiac
As I rowed a wooden skiff with my oars
Over a river of many dreams I folded manyfold
So I praised this holy enclave of lights so beatific
For a mill in the dew bobbed nigh a brook so bucolic
I taught birds to sing like O tengo duende, cariño!
Highland cattles flocked around me in curiosity

The empty breezeway records lolling memories like a music box
I remember that old professor with faded glasses
Looking so profound but frankly tired
Saw something in me, and I felt understood

Transparent orgamis slowly penchéd to the sound of violin
On the surface of a calm lake
In an early morning
Where a Valais Blacknose stretched out its heavy trunk and
Quenched its thirst, with love, in peace
MOTHERLAND By Dookwon Iswamaf.

A long time I awaited,  
Home sweet the saying goes,  
At noon the sun blazes, no joy in its rays,  
The land dry, with savanna stretching far,  
The mountains I applauded, proud and majestic,  
And as for cattle, plenty in fields, grazing free,  
And as for horses and camels, inimaginable,                             Relived I felt at first sight, a homecoming delight,  
But once again, my eagerness betrayed me—  
My first meal tasted overhyped, a memory tinted by  
The beautiful city chanting in my mind,  
"Bamako, Bamako," I heard of it, echoes of promise.

The city large and bright, bustling and alive,  
And at night, a paradise woven in whispers.  
Wow! My excitement unfurled,  
Then, the morning of my first sunrise arrived,  
But the shocking therapy I encountered—  
As rats and cockroaches danced unabashedly  
In broad daylight, their daring a daily show,  
And as for mosquitoes and flies, an incessant annoyance,  
A shake of the head proved insufficient,  
The town thrumming, as people scuttled like ants,  
Mentalities low and impoverished,  
Uncivilization ruling their souls like a heavy shroud.

Yet, amidst the chaotic ballet,  
The fancy cars and a million bikes caught my eye,  
And the highways, vast and inviting to whistle along,  
Though the streets and traffic lights amazed me,  
I found myself yearning for more;  
"Bamako, Bamako," I mused, lost in thought.

The strangers, worshipped like kings without crowns,  
Meals cheap yet plentiful, filling bellies but not hearts.  
Then, the rising palaces, difficult to admire,  
The police and traffic guards, gentle yet firm,  
The markets alive, women’s voices an echoing symphony,  
As their laughter and shouts brewed in the sky.  
The views, pleasant and magnificent,  
The administrative blocks, bridges, and buildings unmatched—  
"Bamako, Bamako," I told myself, clinging to hope.

Yet shame washed over me,  
As beggars, starving, barefoot in the streets,  
And the ghettos, acutely miserable,  
As children wandered, lost, not schooled,  
"Hello!" a voice appeared, rising above the chaos.  
The weather cut dry, the heat biting,  
Dust and dirt swirling, relentless in its chase,  
Then swells and scabs, showing no mercy,  
But oh, how the mangoes and melons glistened,  
Unperishable delights in the midst of despair,  
"Bamako, Bamako," I pondered, caught in the weave.

Yet, the tradition burned stronger here—  
Well-cultured and valued are women,  
Respected are elders, poignant reminders  
Of a heritage rooted deep, rich as the soil,  
And whispers of welcome fluttered like wings,  
In this tapestry of life, love, and loss,  
Bamako, Bamako, my heart echoed,  
A motherland that held both beauty and scars,  
Promise and heartache entwined in its history,  
A place where even the dust carries stories,  
And the sun, flickering in hope, rises again.

        Content Matter

The poem is all about a long home coming which the poet entitled “Motherland” after experiencing and describing life in Mali for 7 months.

Dookwon was away for 13 good years,and at his return excited to see the dreamed nation that he left since he was a kid. Upon his arrival, he meet a lots of things and after a 7 months experience he dedicated this poem as a testimony to the nation in expressing his gratitude and desire of having a chance to see the reality of the nation that he heard stories of.
Apparently, the speaker noticed a lot of his hometown both positive and negative appearances such as
“Mountains” looking statued and majestic like two mens standing and greeting each other. Then the land resembling a desert with a dry weather a melting sun. While the horses and camels never seen in my life the cattles too much, the people
so kind hearted that strangers are taken care of like gods, the capital city a beautiful palace to admire,the people’s mentalities low that they grieve against a language instead of their masters, the people so peaceful that aggression or stealing is a curse. The people plenty, the beggars starving and the children wondered to hate school, Educational standards worthless. Fearsome to see March for the scratching and swelling, mud and dust overtakes the land. But the mangoes and melons always survive, Tradition stands steel(the act of eating hot food with bear hand)womens dress more like Africans than westerners, and old people nerver retires out of help and respect. Mali Bamako the nation that I met full of love and care.

Themes of the poem:

1.   Idealization versus Reality  
     – The speaker arrives expecting a “homecoming delight” and visions of pastoral beauty and a glowing city. Instead, they find rats, cockroaches, poverty, and social disorder.  
     – This tension between fantasy and the grit of lived experience underscores much of the poem’s emotional power.

2.   Nostalgia and Belonging  
     – Repeated invocations of “Bamako, Bamako” reveal a deep longing for place and cultural roots.  
     – Even amid disappointment, the refrain signals that the speaker cannot let go of their bond with the motherland.

3.   Disillusionment and Shock  
     – Initial awe at the landscape, livestock, grand mountains, and promise of the city gives way to a sense of betrayal.  
     – The contrast between expectation (“paradise woven in whispers”) and the harsh “shocking therapy” of squalor drives home the speaker’s emotional upheaval.

4.   Nature and Landscape  
     – The savanna, blazing sun, proud mountains, grazing cattle, camels, and horses set up an almost mythical stage for the homecoming.  
     – Nature both welcomes and disappoints—its beauty cannot mask the social ills that follow.

5.   Urbanization and Modernity  
     – Fancy cars, highways, traffic lights, modern bridges, administrative blocks, and rising palaces speak to development and ambition.  
     – Yet these symbols of progress sit uneasily beside beggars, scuttling crowds, and rudimentary living conditions( like children lacking school).

6.   Poverty and Social Inequality  
     – Rats, cockroaches, flies, and mosquitoes become metaphors for the neglect of public health and infrastructure.  
     – Beggars barefoot in the streets and low “mentalities” highlight stark disparities between wealth and destitution.

7.   Cultural Vitality and Community  
     – Despite hardships, markets pulse with women’s laughter and shouting, meals are “cheap yet plentiful,” and strangers are “worshipped like kings.”  
     – This underlines resilience, hospitality, and a communal spirit that persists in adversity.

8.   Ambivalence and Hope  
     – Throughout the poem the speaker oscillates between disgust, shame, wonder, and reluctant admiration.  
     – The refrain “Bamako, Bamako” evolves from a naïve chant of promise to a fragile talisman of hope and identity.

9.   Identity and Self-Discovery  
     – The journey home forces the speaker to reconcile personal memories and national myths with contemporary realities.  
     – The poem becomes a mirror, reflecting how homeland shapes, betrays, and ultimately defines us.

10.  Juxtaposition of Tradition and Progress  
     – Livestock and savanna evoke traditional rural life, while highways, police, traffic guards, and skyscrapers point toward modernity.  

  SETTINGS AND STRUCTURE

Settings of the poem
The poem was written 7 months after the poet arrival in his hometown after 13 good years leaving in Sierra Leone.

The poet finally mentioned this poem “Motherland” the 5th July 2025, 11:30 pm in the rainy seasons.

STRUCTURE AND LITERARY DEVICES OF THE POEM


Stanza 1 (lines 1–8)  
• 8 lines, lush natural imagery (savanna, mountains, cattle, camels)  
• Repeated “And as for…” builds an almost biblical catalogue of bounty  
• Tone: celebratory, eager  

Stanza 2 (lines 9–12)  
• 4 lines, shift to disappointment (“my eagerness betrayed me—”)  
• First appearance of refrain, buried in the speaker’s thought:  
   “ ‘Bamako, Bamako,’ I heard of it, echoes of promise.”  
• Tone: reflective, half-in-nostalgia  

Stanza 3 (lines 13–19)  
• 7 lines, the city’s night → daylight: from wonder to horror (rats, roaches, mosquitoes)  
• Harsh, visceral diction (“danced unabashedly,” “incessant annoyance”)  

Stanza 4 (lines 20–24)  
• 5 lines, urban bustle likened to an anthill, acute poverty, ghetto misery  
• Simile (“like ants”), harsh alliteration stresses social breakdown  
• Tone: critical, almost despairing  

Stanza 5 (lines 25–30)  
• 6 lines, sudden note of marvel—highways, cars, traffic lights—renewed yearning  
• Reprise of refrain, this time internal: “ ‘Bamako, Bamako,’ I mused, lost in thought.”  
• Tone: conflicted hope  

Stanza 6 (lines 31–39)  
• 9 lines, fuller portrait of city life—strangers exalted, cheap filling meals, rising palaces, gentle authority, vibrant markets  
• Refrain surfaces again: “ ‘Bamako, Bamako,’ I told myself, clinging to hope.”  
• Tone: tentative reconciliation  

Stanza 7 (lines 40–49)  
• ~10 lines, sudden shame at the sight of barefoot beggars, lost children, dust and heat  
• Vivid contrasts: “swells and scabs” vs. “mangoes and melons glistened”  
• Refrain woven into the midst of despair:  
   “ ‘Bamako, Bamako,’ I pondered, caught in the weave.”  
• Tone: sorrowful compassion cushioned by small delights  

Stanza 8 (lines 50–60)  
• ~11 lines, turn toward cultural pride—women honored, elders revered, traditions alive  
• Metaphor of life as a tapestry; whispers of welcome  
• Refrain emerges again as a heartfelt echo: “Bamako, Bamako, my heart echoed,”  
• Closes without the refrain but with a final image of hope: “And the sun, flickering in hope, rises again.”  
• Tone: warm, reconciled, tenderly proud  

• Free verse throughout—no fixed meter or rhyme scheme  
• Refrain (“Bamako, Bamako”) appears at stanzas 2, 5, 6, 7 and in mid-stanza 8—serves as emotional and structural anchor  
• Three-phase arc:  
  1. Idealized arrival → culture shock  
  2. Urban chaos tempered by modern marvels  
  3. Compassion, cultural roots, final reconciliation  
• Rich imagery and contrasts (natural vs. urban, squalor vs. bounty)  
• Anaphora (“And as for…,” “As rats…,” “Yet…”) and simile deepen emotional impact  
• Tone shifts—from celebratory → critical → hopeful—carry the reader on a full emotional journey

— The End —