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African Poets Bot exists to amplify, promote & celebrate African poetry, from both new & established voices, by sharing tweet-size excerpts of published poems written by Africans across an endless variety of themes.
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“The boys play hide and seek
And the girls play hide and seek.
The boys know where the girls hide
And the girls know where the boys hide
So in their hide and seek,
Boys seek girls,
And each to each sing
Songs of love.”
—Matei Markwei [Life In Our Village]
“someplace, students
at a madrasah, spread prayer rugs on a field.
facing the qibla, their eyes fall on roofs, brought
down by stormwater, gunfire & God’s silence.”
—Abu Bakr Sadiq [Rhubarb Shot]
“and she said: an undone shoelace cannot hold
together a burning country
and he said: that’s for love and salt water to fix
she said: i’m looking for my father
in every man—is he here?”
—Bhion Achimba [my parents’ first meeting in a refugee camp]
“No poem for unmarked graves, for the fifteen-year-old boys in combat uniforms
buried without combat uniforms so that more boys may wear combat uniforms.”
—Maryhilda Obasiota Ibe [Anti Poetica]
“I rewrite history
and keep the apple where no hand
can reach it. Sinai because
your breath is fear. Pisgah
because your touch is hurt.”
—Ameen Animashaun [The Dance of the Lambs and the Birds]
“Officer, I heard that after so much blood,
the ground develops
a taste for it.”
—Hafizah Geter [Testimony (for Michael Brown, 1996-2014]
"he, barefooted on a football field,
donning the jersey of an Italian team;
the half-smile on his face,
like a butterfly with one wing,
almost beautiful."
—'Gbenga Adeoba [Nightshift at the Coast]
"When shall I see again, my country, the pure horizon of your face?
When shall I sit down once more at the dark table of your breast?"
—Léopold Sédar Senghor [Long, long you have held between your hands]
"And while you trample on the bitter red soil of Africa
Let these words of anguish keep time with your restless step—
Oh I am lonely so lonely here."
—David Diop [The Renegade]
“BIRD:
You cannot know
And should not bother;
Tide and market come and go
And so has your mother.”
— John Pepper Clark [Streamside Exchange]
“CHILD:
River bird, river bird,
Sitting all day long
On hook over grass,
River bird, river bird,
Sing to me a song
Of all that pass
And say,
Will mother come back today?”
— John Pepper Clark [Streamside Exchange]
“It is that my hands
are also my father’s hands,
and where the lines meet on the palm
both of us have met
and sat, each with his own silence
not speaking.
It is not that we are fighting
It is the shape of love we have come to.”
— Gbenga Adesina [Elegy of Hands]
“Here I am neurasthenic
like a dog
gone mad licking salty
scabs of old wounds.
With what words
and with what face
am I going to tell
my orphaned children to forget their father?”
— José Craveirinha [Cell 1]
“Even nightingales
by West Lake cannot silence
the wail of exile”
— Dennis Brutus [Even Nightingales]
“this is how time is moving over the memory of you with the possibility to forgive death’s transgression. or at the very least scraping it to a bearable frame. love, see the years are peeling you back to me so fondly.”
— Jakky Bankong-Obi [Peeled Back]
“In the solitary township
lights and shadows play silently between the huts
children sleep
old people dream
dogs sit panting
flies buzz round the dunghill
and from the roofs, threads of water drip
— life affected by the absence of men—”
— Antonio Jacinto [The People Went to War]
“The sun spun like
a tossed coin.
It whirled on the azure sky,
it clattered into the horizon,
it clicked in the slot,
and neon-lights popped
and blinked ‘Time expired’, as on a parking meter.”
— Oswald Mbuyiseni Mtshali [Sunset]
“I imagine Kumase must have kissed silence the way new butterfly bones break
after the British hellfire. The city, like the unfinished flesh of something hatched
from the moon’s skull.”
— Sarpong Osei Asamoah [Doomsday Device]
“The Ghanaian flag, once above my bed,
Now bleeding on my desk.
Some have said the colors are changing,
The gold is a curse to our waters
And Atiwa is dying, so China can find its bauxite.
It is as if everyone who ever came here
Was in search of their missing treasures.”
