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Nomkhumbulwa Aug 2023
Home is calling
I hear it's voice
It's arms wide open
An African embrace

I smell the grass
Feel the soil on my feet
My focus on home
Runs so so deep

The warmth, the freedom
The people, the trees,
Africa is calling
Like a song in the breeze

My roots are grounded
So firmly planted
A long time before
Colonialism started

I see jacarandas
I hear hyenas
Joyful singing
Dancing till morning

The wide smiles
Cheerful eyes
Ubuntu is everything
Under these skies

The sun is glowing
On a wide African sky
Insects chirping
As the sun says goodbye

From all over Africa
Came my people
To my tiny land
Of my heritage

I'm there in spirit
I dream every night
Ask ancestors to guide me
Back home when the time is right

To sit with the baobab
To feel the connection
Something so deep
In my soul, a protection

To go back in time
At mighty Magelies
Sit in silence
In the area of our birthplace

The cradle of humankind
Is not just a name
It's real, still there
A place from where we all came

As old as the hills
An English saying
Well here you can feel it
These hills have seen everything

The warmth
The safety
The love
The humility

And my motherland
Isolated, alone,
A jewel in the ocean
Where few of us call home

I feel the longing
To be back
With my brothers and sisters
My soul is black

Nothing fills the void
Of our heritage calling
Africa, St Helena,
Calling and calling

Africa is ours
St Helena is mine
Those not visited
Won't understand

My roots are firm......

Nomkhumbhulwa 🍀
For heritage month
"And he created out of one man every nation of men, to dwell upon the entire surface of the earth, and he decreed the appointed times and set limits of the dwelling of man." (Acts 17: 26) (New World Translation Study Edition)

When I look in the mirror, a doughty warrior, an oracle, an Olympian gazes back at me. The caramel-tinge of my skin tells of the colored pedigree from whence I came. Every ebony-tendril that bursts from my epidermis is as impregnable as the Sacred Lotus.

The history of my Mind's Sky has been tried by the Ancient African Sun of my ancestors. It is my hope, that I have passed the trials decreed by the ordinances of the Moon & Sun. Moreover, the Arbiter of Fates, Jah, dawns upon our fleshly vessel at each twilight, assaying our entities. (Isaiah 60: 19, 20) (New World Translation Study Edition)

So many intrepid souls have compassed me about. The Chalice of my Heart burgeons with esprit d' amour. The meaning of life is ne' er about intellect, is ne' er about achievement, is in part, about creativity; wholly, about Love. (John 13: 34, 35) (New World Translation Study Edition) For this reason, strength cascades upon me every moment as I witness the brilliance, the resilience of my beneficent matriarch, Stacy Amanda Foulke.

In life, I have learned that being a person of color in America is not only a wonderful privilege, but a responsibility. Why? The afflictions brought upon this skin only make it glisten brighter after convalescence. Our people have suffered inordinately so, but this is conducive to cultivating surpassing empathy. Therefore, I believe that history, as begotten through the colored legacy, shall be one of ultimate victory.

If and only if, we unfetter ourselves from the onerous burdens of the past, then Monarchical Wings shall burgeon from our Astral Chrysalis. "For though the tribulation is momentary and light, it works out for us a glory that is of more and more surpassing weight and is everlasting." (1st Corinthians 4: 17) (New World Translation Study Edition) Se' lah.

               The Dictum of Vitality:

(I) "If there is no struggle, there is no progress.” – Frederick Douglass

(II) “Freedom is never given; it is won.” – A. Philip Randolph

(III) "Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly.” – Langston Hughes

(IV) “There is no ***** problem. The problem is whether the American people have loyalty enough, honor enough, patriotism enough, to live up to their own constitution.” – Frederick Douglass

(V) ”Almost always, the creative dedicated minority has made the world better.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.

(VI) ”Where there is no vision, there is no hope.” – George Washington Carver

(VII) ”Character is power.” – Booker T. Washington

(VIII) ”Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world.” – Harriet Tubman

(IX) ”Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for. We are the change that we seek.” – Barack Obama

(X) ”When I dare to be powerful – to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid.” – Audre Lorde

-------------------------------------------Envisage-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Freedom, freedom---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------At last---------------------------------------------------
BSween Sep 2020
That time I stepped out
And felt a pull deep inside
As ancients drew my breath,
Asked not to neglect their presence
These ghosts of ages past
These ancestral spirits I knew before my birth
A past
All memories
Muscle snd bone memories
Formed but not informed
A peculiar déjà vu.
Were these to be my late counsel?
Guiding me, cleansing me
As I traversed this new path?
I know them awhile
Assailing me for dismissing them then.
I shout to them as winter approaches.
That I wasn’t ready…
It took all my strength
To lift my arm
And wave goodbye.
Time weathered it 
Worn by salt and wind 
A testament to man and sea
And the sheer determination to survive.
Boats come in and out with the tides
Waves unrelenting...
Remember your roots
As the sea ravishes over rock.
There are few who stop to care,
But there is stillness to be found here

There is a magic in these misty cliffs
As the water crashes onto rockface
Sending turrets of spray into the air
And spiney fingers cascading down.
A race to reunite.
The ocean  moves...
A lobster *** buoy bobs up and down
The cliff erodes, ever so slowly

Seagulls sit on a cliff edge
perhaps resting, i do not know
A wave passes by
Teetering on the edge of explosion
I do not see it break as it passes out of view.
The surging ocean delights me
Dancing over rock
Having no care for destruction
Safety or form
It moves as it must
As it sees fit
Taking the best and only path.
Accepting its new form
in each moment
Giving life, Taking life
It cares not.
It must only move and this it knows 
You are welcome, but beware
I visited Port Isaac in Cornwall recently and was inspired to put some words down. Its so beautiful and there was a large swell running.
Elena Mustafa Oct 2020
At dusk near
Sunset and night fall
I see I farmers Field
Look barren as the talklamakan desert
In the middle of autumn
I think of my ancestors
From east Turkestan
Chris Saitta May 2020
A vintner of aged leaves in the wine-press of the sun,
Thin-skinned like the lucent grapes from the vine-runs
Of the island trellises and teal-cordoned waves, lowest slung
Fruit-laden bough of sky, Sicily, whose ateliers of rolled cigarettes
And uprolled sleeves like tides tease smoke into studio paints,
The black apple wine of storm made into mouthfuls of pulp rain,
Before the sunrise is gathered again in fishing nets and crab pots,
The coastal towns with their salted roofs of pied clay and pigeons
Along the lava stone streets, and night from the chanteuse of Egypt,
Singing her coral to heron, as when her bird-like barefooted slaves
Left tracks across Old Kingdom wastes, so this dreaming old man
Leaves his wrinkles to these grapes and across the sand-island pillow,
Asleep with his fathers, hay-hauling peasants of wandering darkness.
Atelier is simply an artist’s studio.
Mrs Timetable Feb 2020
Our family tree
Woah is me
Has termites

No pictures to prove
Who is who
Boo hoo hoo

Should it matter
Would it make us sadder
If we searched the history of us

Would we find
We are royalty
Or just of the toilet seat

We might find the dad
Who went away
Or was just led astray

Find the town
We are from
Exact locations say some

A can
Of worms
Or just deserts

Do we have to know
Will it make us

Maybe all we need
Is these little seeds
Of us now to plant

The small tree
Start fresh
Of just you and me
Searching your past can be an amazing adventure or a nightmare depending on the results. It’s a serious decision to make.
a sire
of Oliver
is spring
in Baganda
with carafe
here might
muse the
daughter in
craft and
slaughter now
leader for
features incumbent
in the
sprawl of
louche theatrics
to vanish
in mire
rain in LA
Mark Toney Dec 2019
family tree treasure hunt—
come to your census
12/9/2019 - Poetry form: Senryu - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Ju Temo Oct 2019
Can I find you past Mount Hua,
After crossing Cao’e River,
Through the fields of Longkou,
Will I be walking for long?

Sat, waiting for the train to go
To take me where I am supposed to be
Head pressed against the cold window
I want that seat.

Lost among the frames
And paths between stones
You should be somewhere among
The busy laying down of flowers
I want to know

A fickle not fitting anywhere
A missing piece,
Just wandering.

Who do I owe my existence to.
Who brought me here.
I would kneel down to you
And offer my deepest gratitude

Tired of floating up in the air
Just whisked around by the wind.
The tree with roots is stronger
The clouds so lonely.

Breezing by, the single leaf
Stuck in this one state
I’ll walk alone with my two legs
Don’t worry, I’ll continue to go
But where are you?

The people who came before me
Blocks of my past
You’re going too far
I’m lost.

This voice,
The voice formed
Trying to reach out
It’s calling out
It can’t let go,
Where it came from.

Every sunshine,
Every storm,
It surrounds us
Brings us to life.
I’ll always look up
And see it like you.

Going past Mount Hua
Alone among the clouds
Who put me here
I want to know.

I’ll travel long
And so far,
I’ve been walking for long.

I’ll put my respects
Will you see me
I won’t be disappointed
I’ll lay down everything
Just to have my place.

Left away
Those a part of me
I’m walking through the path
But where are you?
Ju Temo' is a freelance poet that is inspired by songwriting.      
All other poems can be seen at:
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