"senegal" poems
Afghanistan needs hellopoetry
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San Marino needs hellopoetry
Sao Tome and Principe needs hellopoetry
Saudi Arabia needs hellopoetry
Senegal needs hellopoetry
Serbia needs hellopoetry
Seychelles needs hellopoetry
Sierra Leone needs hellopoetry
Singapore needs hellopoetry
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Slovenia needs hellopoetry
Solomon Islands needs hellopoetry
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South Africa needs hellopoetry
Spain needs hellopoetry
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Sudan needs hellopoetry
Sudan, South needs hellopoetry
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Zambia needs hellopoetry
Zimbabwe needs hellopoetry
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC
Africa is beautiful and beautiful is usual in Africa
Continental wonderland of love this is Africa
What's in Africa? What's there to see?
I asked myself on the New Year's eve
I thought that I was good in geography
But I didn't know Lagos or Nairobi
I might be ignorant, I have to admit
About Africa I knew just a little bit
The great Sahara - sands of mystery!
The Nile river - so much history!
Africa is magical and magical is usual in Africa
Continental wonderland of joy this is Africa
Namibia, Nigeria, Niger, Angola, Algeria
Burundi, Benin and Libya, Lesotho and Liberia
Burkina-Faso, Botswana, Guinea-Bissau, Ghana
Djibouti, Zimbabwe, Zambia, Uganda, Rwanda, Gambia
I saw a film on Serengeti Park
A one of a kind, a must-see landmark
I watched a documentary on pyramids of Giza
They're much much older than Mona Lisa
I heard that oldest coffee plants
Take their roots in Ethiopia's land
And that samba, rumba, funk and jazz
Take their beats from African drums
Africa is beautiful and beautiful is usual in Africa
Continental wonderland of love this is Africa
Cameroon and Congo, Malawi, Mali, Morocco
Côte d'Ivoire and Kenya, Mauritius, Mauritania
Tunisia, Tanzania, Eswatini, Eritrea
Sudan, Senegal, Somalia, Sierra Leone, South Sudan
You can travel around cities of Africa
Like Cape Town, Cairo or Casablanca
If you're in love or plan to be
Go to Zanzibar, feel that ocean breeze!
Climb up mount Kilimanjaro
Watch the zebras cross the Masai Mara
If you're adventurous, you're a dreamer
Take a wild trip down Zambezi river
Africa is magical and magical is usual in Africa
Continental wonderland of joy this is Africa
Comoros, Chad, Cabo Verde, Democratic Republic of Congo
Ethiopia, Egypt, Guinea, Gabon, Equatorial Guinea and Togo
Madagascar, Mozambique, Central African Republic
Sao Tome and Principe, South Africa and Seychelles
Africa is beautiful and beautiful is usual in Africa
Continental wonderland, I'm on my way to Africa!
May 3, 2022
May 3, 2022 at 7:33 PM UTC
Nobody heard them, the 900,
But still they lay screaming.
We were much further out than they were,
And not waving but drowning.
Poor migrants, lured to a better life –
Now they’re dead.
It must have been too hot for them
In Gambia, Senegal, Syria, they said,
Oh no no no, it was too hot always,
Still, the stranded ones lay screaming.
We were much further out than they were,
And not waving but drowning.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 8:02 AM UTC
Death can do strange things,
like time-lapse photography,
undress those quite bored, or
make a patron saint out of a fool,
turning sleek idiots into monks
more mysterious than Rasputin.
What a place to drink, the casino
death runs, nothing fancy or beautiful,
a blind man called Dark Island
taking requests on a piano with keys
worn dull as bone handled knives.
A place the lost can find work, graceless
and not made in America without a living,
all these odd jobs death can do, like art,
factory smoke blown in the eyes of women
in Senegal making overalls for Walmart.
Aug 12, 2016
Aug 12, 2016 at 9:47 PM UTC
To many people of the world, Africa is often seen
Through a narrow lens, a filtered screen
As a place of poverty, starvation and disease
Of famine, drought, and misery
But this is only one side of the story
Most people say this out of ignorance, I’m sorry
Africa is a land of great diversity
Of vibrant cultures, of ancient traditions
Of beauty, of art, of peace
Yes, we have our challenges, it's true
But we are a people of strength, of resilience, of hope
From Algeria in the north, where ancient ruins abound
To Zimbabwe in the south, where Victoria Falls resound
Senegal is where the vibrant West African culture comes alive
And in Seychelles, the archipelago's beaches and nature are a perfect vibe
Sierra Leone has the beautiful beaches of Freetown
While Egypt has the Pyramids and other awe-inspiring sculptures
Mauritius is a paradise island, with virg*n beaches and luxury resorts
From the rainforests of the
Congo to the beaches of Cape Town
From Bijilo Forest Park in the Gambia
To the Kragga Kamma Game Reserve in South Africa
From Ghana to Nigeria, who regularly argue over which country
Makes the best Jollof, fufu and afrobeat
But the bond is as close as Arnold Schwarzenegger and guns – big guns
Look at Africa with a broader lens
And behold, you find the flawlessly faultless
The continent of countries, of tribes, of peoples
Each with its own history, its own voice, its own dreams
Its own richness of traditions, the diversity of their languages
And the beauty of their cultures
Let us dismiss the delusions
Of a continent that is backward, primitive, and poor
For Africa is a land of great potential
Of food that is spicy, soulful and sweet
Dance that is enthusiastic, energetic, and expressive
Where the earth is rich with resources untold
In doing so, we will break down the barriers
And create a world that is truly inclusive
For Africa is not a place of darkness
But a place of light, of hope, of opportunity
Africa is not a place of pity
But a place of power and pride
We are the children of a proud continent
Where the sun rises and sets with a sizzling splendor
Making it a place where every day is summer
Mar 27, 2023
Mar 27, 2023 at 12:24 PM UTC
I am here a poet
And like I do,
Someone messaged me
Like a friend ,I replied
She gave me her mail
That she had an important story to share
Like a man,I gave her mine
She was thankful
But soon she turned a refugee
Under refuge in Senegal
And desperate for help
She asked my occupation
She asked my account details
She asked for my support to transact
$55000
I refused all of them
Now she needs money
To come and meet me on Kenya.
I went ahead
To check her account in here
And she had a one COPY PASTED POEM,
And she was got,
If you are the one,
Kindly try when I am drank
I will pour out all my secrets
I will transfer half of my money to you,
The only problem is
I love Christ
And I don't go near a pub
Leave alone getting drunk.
I will disclose your details!
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 10:36 PM UTC
I know this isnt a poem but I feel its my duty as a moral person to report that there is fraudster messaging this websites members and asking them to email "Her" at which point she will send you false information about wanting to transfer money from senegal.
I urge you, if you get a message from a member called nicystephani ignore them, they're only trying to defraud you. Their email is [email protected].
Please spread this message so that they can no longer try and trick people.
Remember, don't fall victim to foreign scams
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC
Memory takes me back to long ago. I can see the deck of the slave ship I came on, smell the salt air and the hot vinegar used to clean away the escaping stench below the deck, hear the sound as male slaves exercise, as crew members play fiddle music while chains thud hard from the dancing amusement of the slaves. My home was near the River Senegal on the coast. The slave traders ships brought colered cloth, beads, *** and cowrie shells to trade for our black flesh. Father raised cattle, rice and maize. This ebony man traded muskets, gunpowder, needles and colored thread, for what he grew. On the day of our capture, we marched during the long day tied to each other, given only thin meal and warm water. Tiredness bore down on our limbs each step. Canoes came on waves toward us. Fear moved down the chained line of men. Women and children were separated. Our clothes were taken. Standing naked, mouths were opened, and muscles felt. We had to jump up and down while moving our arms. Chosen ones were branded on the skin. I screamed loudly until my voice refuse sound. The time for hearing is gone. Rapid waters filled with blood, as some are tossed into the sea, for circling sharks to dine on. The ship offers only sixteen inches to hold me, others have two and half inches if tightly packed. Bodies are in the hold, secured down by chains that are nailed. Faint cries of agony beat on my ears like drums. I try not to breath in the rancid smells of those who have soiled themselves. Air is limited. Mutiny usually takes place within the shoreline. Because when at sea chances are less to escape. Slaves who simply refuse to eat are force fed with the speculum oris which is placed in the slave's mouth, opening the jaws then food is pushed in usually rice or millet. Crew members tried wash away stench of blood from floggings, feces, ***** from between decks until this day the stench still remains. Living as a slave while your soul is dead is a living horror.
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
An African Queen
Senegal what do I know of that country
But I have sailed past her coast, alas, she
Is married to Dakar nothing I can do.
She spoke French the tall lady and sounded
*** my language seems like a bulldozer
Flattening a Palestinian home so I smiled and
Said little dismayed over my lack of speech
When it imperative to make injustice heard.
Tall she was walked like a gazelle she worked
At a place where she didn't had to be up
At seven in the morning and anyway she was
Not from Senegal, it was Senegal I loved
My ship doesn't sail her way, but I whisper her
Name Senegal, Senegal into the African breeze
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC
An African Queen
Senegal what do I know of that country
But I have sailed past her coast, alas, she
Is married to Dakar nothing I can do.
She spoke French the tall lady and sounded
**** my language seems like a bulldozer
Flattening a Palestinian home so I smiled and
Said little dismayed over my lack of speech
When it imperative to make injustice heard.
Tall she was walked like a gazelle she worked
At a place where she didn't had to be up
At seven in the morning and anyway she was
Not from Senegal, it was Senegal I loved
My ship doesn't sail her way, but I whisper her
Name Senegal, Senegal into the African breeze
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 1:29 AM UTC
the sight
of a blonde Austrian 5-year-old girl
happily hugging a Senegal mammy in Vienna
joys me beyond belief
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 2:12 PM UTC
I follow poppy flowers down avenues gray and pestilent.
I pass the radiant windows of Avalon while crows perch the ticket stands.
Sidewalk lifeless as frowning clowns droop on their way to another wake.
Fluorescent signs hang from concord wires.
I tire of the tired,
I drain from the drained.
I am the modern death.
School children are made from the same cosmic juice blend as me.
They are the modern death.
Politicians wear my infamous black garb.
The modern death is them, just as well.
Senegal actresses patter on their patchwork paste texture makeup and rose circles, hiding tears illuminated with the truth of tragedy.
There is no doubt they are the modern death.
Faerie potpourri in desolate East Hastings and clairvoyant row enticed by false visions of hallucinated men crouched beneath rotten cement canopies while locusts click and clatter midst their sorrow.
They are buzzing incantations of the modern death.
Tibet is falling hold to corruption while the boyish monks calm in their meditations, are interrupted by agony wept Bhikkus bent in ****** transgressions, even Buddha is the modern death!
China is a communist factory housing too many chimneys clogged with silent sufferings.
Communities hiding in thin dust masks bearing the insignia of the modern death, only seen underneath ultraviolet light.
My role has been diminished in recent generations, I'm growing old and flogged with decay,
same as you, modern death.
We're here for a final round of drinks
cool on our chasm lungs breathing big bang radiation for many years
while the batteries in our clocks begin to fail us and the Hospital calls occur in succession once we get too sick to see the harsh planet we'll all have the privilege of dying in.
I'm the modern death watching pale static reruns of the nature channel in a finely decorated room in some death camp retirement home
waiting on the last day, inevitable.
There's no place here for the modern death,
not anymore.
This is what the poets were talking about!
all the bodies are already skeletons.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 3:23 AM UTC
in the moments before dawn you’ll hear whispers: haunted breaths
that scrape your neck like glass fingernails, razorblades in the liminality of time;
the music in your ears will ring like church bells and
crack like porcelain spoons in ceramic hands. the clouds will call your name,
dip it in the sea and stain it grey, and you’ll wish you could get it back
but you’ll find yourself muted, your vocal chords tangled,
knotted, and slit by stiffened swords in the arms of the enslaved. Cape Horn beckons
and we pretend not to hear. Senegal polishes her silver knife & I pretend that I am not unfaithful to Alexandro’s memory. if there’s no way
to unlock my wrists then don’t bother looking for land, just turn
my vessel around and let my eyes search for the gaze of the mountain. if there’s no way
to silence my mind then don’t bother whispering in my ears,
don’t be naive,
don’t play games with me unless you can dock the ship. when the clock turns three,
go tell Bartholomew he can take my body, it’s not mine and
I don’t want it anymore, the blood on my neck may be my blood but
it belongs to the blade, so tell him,
turn my bones into skeleton keys and Aranda will show you the way.
I’ll follow your leader if you follow me, I promise,
I promise, I promise unbroken dreams in Delano’s unbroken hands. although
my wrists are bound by plastic chains, I’ll still tell you
to watch your step because the planks beneath your feet
are echoing with the phantoms of lost crowns whether or not you can
feel the spirits in the air. you can’t see but your jeweled massacres
have bled into the suds twined around your neck,
My Dear Amasa,
I wonder what you’d say if you knew that
there will be no sunrise.
Nov 3, 2019
Nov 3, 2019 at 4:35 AM UTC