Adeeyoyo's Blog

I write what I feel…


5 Comments

The Raw Heart of Africa

Post No. 886

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The Raw Heart of Africa

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Civilisation peels back the skin

Of sophistication ~

No more than a veneer

Layered very thin ~

Over Africa’s raw heart.

I bleed to see how

It was used and abused

Bribed over generations

Corrupted, outsmarted

By men who stole its wealth.

And, infected now itself,

It cannot reverse time

But openly try to recover,

Unwrap what was papered over.

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©Denise G Allen, 16 October 2015 13:30


3 Comments

Cry

Post No. 809

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Cry

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Cry

My beloved country

The backlash held in place

Has been let loose

The floodgate opened wide

As the frenzied tumult smiles

And rage has set the stage

A country polarised

Emotion rules the nation

A shower head, a laughing stock

A president, a precedent

Weep

While the world’s asleep

Judgement day will come again

And the cross will be our shame

Cry

My beloved country

Cry

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©Denise G Allen, 31 May 2015 01:54


2 Comments

Veld Fire

Post No. 808

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Veld Fire

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Skin crackling crisp

Blackened, peeling,

Exposing raw tissues

New life, new blood

Sanitized, purified

As the fynbos* renews

Year on year

And we watch

The regeneration

Following

The degradation

Full circle again

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*Fynbos

Fynbos is the natural shrubland or heathland vegetation occurring in a small belt of the Western Cape of South Africa, mainly in winter rainfall coastal and mountainous areas with a Mediterranean climate. Wikipedia

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©Denise G Allen, 30 May 2015 06:27


5 Comments

My Africa

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The music breathes into my soul,
phantom fingers stroke the keys,
draw breath to blow the ‘bone,
wisps of smoke curl overhead
‘gainst the naked globe.

Far, far away atop a craggy hill
the lone, plaintive cry
of a pennywhistle fills the sky
and the mist rises and curls
t’wards the ascending sun.

Nineteen years and what has changed?
Promises unfulfilled ~
The world stands still…

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©Denise G Allen, 27 August 2013 04:00


37 Comments

Dusk in Africa

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The calm of the jungle at dusk,

The soft sounds of creatures

Returning from the waterhole, spent:

Crackling branches, bodies brushing

Against dry bushes as they went.

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Silence descended slowly as night fell.

We sat relaxed around the fire,

At ease in the surrounding peace,

Sipping our after-dinner drinks

And dreaming of the morrow.

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ROAR!

RROOAARR!  The second, a demanding bellow

Then a series of grunts to follow:

GRUNT, GRUNT, grunt, grunt, g r u n t…

Fading slowly until dead…

Silence dropped heavily back in the hollow

And we all retreated to bed.

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©DGA 24 January 2012 09:33