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Dark skinned and gifted,
high on all my ideas and imaginations.
All that keeps me forever lifted.

Brightness in my smile,
ten thousand years of wisdom behind my eyes.
Like the motherland I live in,
dearest mother has birthed a precious child.

Kissed by the African sun,
always dreaming under it's moon.
It dawns on my pride,
as I rest in it's afternoon.

You're worth is the worthy one
you have inside.
Hold onto that,
carry with it your African Pride.
Empty in African terms,
is a "coca cola glass bottle."
Strange to some,
but never strange to us.
I grew up as a child,
riding long journeys in something called a "chicken bus."

I knew about robots,
far before TV screens would show it.
But in African terms,
those robots are just traffic lights.

Green to go,
red to stop.
Amber the colour of chance in between,
and only a few would get what I mean.

I grew up speaking our common slang,
calling things a lot, by using the words "a span"
Making jokes with friends,
calling each other bra, calling another a *****.
"The rents",
meant I was referring to mom and dad of the family.

It's a wonder how I didn't fail English,
with all the made-up words we said.

Playing games in the mud,
by 5 o'clock refusing to bath.
As kids we didn't know much;
or anything close to real love.
The silly games we played on the street was all but enough.

Thinking of it back now,
the scars on my legs tell many a story.
And when I have children of my own, the memories I had,
I hope becomes apart of their African legacy.

Kids under the African sun,
how the simple times of life are long gone.
The field was all he'd known
admiring the flowers
the butterflies
the snakes
they poisoned the field
the snakes.

The river is all he knows
Listening to the hum
of the river's flow
the trash
it polluted the river
the trash.

The field is all he needs
longing for the rich harvest
Of knowledge
the snakes
do not scare him
the snakes.

The river is the one in pain
the fish mourn
their home is dying
the river
it must be cleansed
my river.
The boy of the field and river.
Early morning birds chirping
Singing melody’s of peace
Looking out into the forest
I see beauty in your face
Africa has a smell that no one can erase
A smell that echos love into your soul  
Life so simple, life so inspiring and incredible
Don’t believe what the discovery channel told you about a land that existed before any other
Africa the mother of the earth
Birthing billions of souls
who left it but still live in it
It’s blood runs deep in our souls
Skin shades might change
but our roots are deep Within
When Africa cries we feel it’s pain  
When Africa smiles we rejoice with pure joy
Colonizers tried to change it but it changed them
They stole its music, passion, material good, it’s minerals, traditions, and norms
Taking even its greatest queens and kings
Tribal men and women
They tried to **** its joy but it still smiled through the pain
Enslaving it’s people still couldn’t **** it existence
Africa
Birthed in resistance and molded by resilience, inspired by diligence, fueled by consistence
We are strong, powerful, and courageous  
Africa the birthplace of the human race
With our palms pressed let’s say Grace
As we pray for peace
Africa, your time has come
To increase your prosperity
And unlock your wealth

Through cooperation
And innovation
Your time has come
To remove obstacles
And create life abundantly

Your energy keeps building...
So many hopes and dreams
In pattern and matrix form
Ready to be clothed with
Physical matter

The ideas and technologies
Now safeguard personal identity
And bestow economic identity
To people and nations
That prosperity may abound
This is Prosperity Poem 117 at ProsperityPoems.com and you can see it displayed on a beautiful background (copy and paste the link below). https://www.prosperitypoems.com/delivery117Africa.html
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This poem was inspired by Charles Hoskinson, the genius mathematician who is also the founder of Cardano.  Charles and I both were inspired by Kiva, the micro-loan lending group that helps so many people worldwide.

Cardano is a cryptocurrency, but it's much more than that.  Charles has in mind to use it to establish economic identity for millions in Africa who do not have this blessing.  They need a safe and secure way to transmit money, own land with deeds, borrow money, and much more.

The projects are in the incipient stages but developing rapidly - especially in Ethiopia.  So I wrote this poem as a tribute to the people of Africa - and to Charles for helping establish systems to unlock the prosperity of the African nations!
They jump from high trees
Yellowish-Brown swift leapers
In the torrid heat
©️ 2021 Joshua Reece Wylie. All rights reserved.
Haiku.
Inspired by nature.
Africa:
It is a lost place
One thinks of sunny
Blue skies
And then thunderstorms

Of running through
Vast, vast, vast
Open grasslands

Of cooking on a fire,
Of looking out
Over the hills of our
Homeland, homeland, home -
Land, land, land
Nikkie Jan 30
I’ve never been on a beach at midnight,
while watching the waves caress the shoreline.
I’ve never slept in penthouse splendor,
next to a man who didn’t hurt my heart.
I’ve never once danced to an old school classic.,
with my arms wrapped around the man I love.
I’ve yet to sail  the Amazon Basin,
and watched in wonderment as God’s  beautiful
creatures ran wild and free through the
I’ve never been on a beach at midnight,
while watching the waves caress the shoreline.
I’ve never slept in penthouse splendor,
next to a man who didn’t hurt my heart.
I’ve never once danced to an old school classic.,
with my arms wrapped around the man I love.
I’ve yet to sail  the Amazon Basin,
and watched in wonderment as God’s  beautiful
creatures ran wild and free through the
Serengeti.
Exiting the blackness of the night
Thou tiny mediocre awakes
Arising with casual elegance
Biding the night farewell
Singing it's welcoming lullaby
Pouring out it's gorgeous golden-blinding

I feel it's presence
Sending overpowering bright lights
Bedazzling our minds
Oh radiant one
Thy golden fingers of sunlight
I receive your relentless dappling

Written by Tosan Oluwakemi Thompson
This is a poem that's talking about the sun especially in Africa. Pitiless African is an adjective we use for the sun in Africa because of its harshness.
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