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Robert Ippaso Jun 29
From the lofty snowcapped peaks
of Kilimanjaro
The morning mist envelopes its verdant foothills in a tight embrace,
No need to hurry, this is not a race,
Beads of sunlight dancing across the glistening dew.

As the plains of Amboseli reveal their golden hue,
There's movement spied where none existed moments prior,
A herd of Zebra lounging in their elegant attire,
The lush grasslands beckoning them for yet another day.

The few Wildebeest amongst them if only they could talk they'd say,
We're happy to be safe in this weird and motley crowd,
Despite the fact these Zebras are so boisterous and loud,
What's a little banter when the promise is of grazing in contented peace.

Double is their luck as the pert Egyptian geese
Act as wary Sentinels, their honks resounding loud,
Alerted by the pride of crouching lions, their countenance so proud,
Scouting for that meal for their young to feed.

A Wildebeest or two would fill those hunger pangs indeed,
Were it not for those Hyenas prowling on their scent,
To steal their hard-fought prize definitely hell bent,
Neither party cowered, neither will give
ground.

But what's a little tiff when prey does so abound,
A fragile land of bounty, God's country that's for sure,
Where every single creature finds ways to gainfully endure,
Africa in all its glory, nature’s living work of art.
Shyly they laugh and dance out the door.
They're children, all children, without any care.
Their clothes, all with holes, in complete disrepair.
They're children, all children, without any care.
Tables and chairs are painted with flair,
But the legs are all broken, and the walls all have holes, but the children all play without any care
How can they grow? When they all stare, at our cameras and movies and think in despair
'I am not smart, I am not fair, my life is my life, I cannot better my fare."
So they play, as children, without any care.
Living in Tanzania
Ariel Baptista Jun 2014
Will you remember me, Tanzania?
When my map of your curves is folded
And I see no more your mountain in my mind
Only your smile, straight as a line
On the day I flew away.

The wind travels far, Tanzania
And I must follow
Knowing you has left me hollow
And thus I search
But will you remember me?

The feel of my flip-flop footfalls on your face,
The sound of my laugh as your wind carried it away,
Will you remember how your thorns pierced me,
Pleading with me to stay?
Oh, will you remember me Tanzania?

We pause for a moment at the barbed wire fence,
Brief it burned
But coke-bottle circles in my cheeks will be my memento
Like your dark-eyed children and how, somehow they grow
Taller, darker, row on row.
Tell me you will miss me so
Oh Tanzania.

Will you remember how your sun kissed my forehead?
And how I tasted the feel of your words on my tongue?
How I stole your air to fill my lungs?
I stole as much as I could bear.
Small, dark hands braided my hair

Will you remember me, Tanzania?
As I cling to these landmarks and scars
Which fade from my mind,
Remember how I shook as we left each other behind
Remember how I wore your earth on my skin
Then let your rains wash me clean
How I felt your forest
Brown and green
You were not as you first seemed
But nor was I

Tanzania, Tanzania
What will you remember?
Here with your thoughts on mine,
I bless the legacy of your skyline.
Beautiful or ******
Oh, Tanzania
Who do you say that I am?
Inspired by *Identities* by Matthew Mead, and also by my own travels

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