Africa's Legacy and the Diaspora
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Dedicated to an African Slave Poet, Phillis
Wheatley!
Seven years old
Phillis Wheatley was brought to the United States from Africa (Senegal) in
1753. She was kidnapped and sold at a slave auction (Boston) to Slave
Master, John
Wheatley and his wife Susanna.
On
being brought from Africa to America.
'TWAS mercy brought me
from my Pagan land,
Taught my benighted soul to understand
That there's a God, that there's a Saviour too:
Once I redemption neither sought nor knew,
Some view our sable race with scornful eye,
"Their colour is a diabolic die."
Remember, Christians, Negroes, black as Cain,
May be refin'd, and join th' angelic train.
----Phillis Wheatley
************************
On
the Death of a young Gentleman.
WHO
taught thee conflict with the pow'rs of night,
To vanquish satan in the fields of light?
Who strung thy feeble arms with might unknown,
How great thy conquest, and how bright thy crown!
War with each princedom, throne, and pow'r is o'er,
The scene is ended to return no more.
O could my muse thy seat on high behold,
How deckt with laurel, how enrich'd with gold!
O could she hear what praise thine harp employs,
How sweet thine anthems, how
divine thy joys!
What heav'nly grandeur should exalt her strain!
What holy raptures in her numbers reign!
To sooth the troubles of the mind to peace,
To still the tumult of life's tossing seas,
To ease the anguish of the parents heart,
What shall my sympathizing verse impart?
Where is the balm to heal so deep a wound?
Where shall a sov'reign remedy be found?
Look, gracious Spirit, from thine heav'nly bow'r,
And thy full joys into their
bosoms pour;
The raging tempest of their grief control,
And spread the dawn of glory through the soul,
To eye the path the saint departed trod,
And trace him to the bosom of his God.
----Phillis Wheatley
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HAITI, DEAD or ALIVE
Don’t you remember our people’s dream?
They dreamt of swimming
To Haiti to taste freedom
It was November 18, 1803
Don’t you remember?
You looked over the grayish sea
With sorrow in your eyes
And wondered when liberty would be yours too...
And don’t you remember Nat Turner?
Don’t you remember Nat Turner?
The main dreamer slave
He was tall and brave
Don’t you remember?
He was wanted dead or alive!
Don’t you remember Haiti?
A place that was once your heaven
And you prayed to get there dead or alive
Hidden under the shadow of Toussaint
But now, you forgot!
Now you forgot how you got to Louisiana?
And today, you wiped Haiti out of the way?
You acted like it never existed
But do you remember swimming in Southern Blues?
Do you remember Jim Crow and Sir William Lynch?
Then, Haiti was still alive and strong
And it’s because of the "Voodoo drum"
Today you can taste the sugar cane rum
Do you remember?
Do you remember how you turned on us?
And now you still hate us and want to kill us
Just because the master told you to
And the family’s dream was tampered with.
You became a lost child at sea
And now we are grieving for our souls
At last, we lost the dream near Haiti!
~ fania simon 2004
*********************************
faniasimon. com pays
tribute to Michael Jackson
"Earth provides enough to satisfy every man's need, but not
every man's greed."
-M. Gandhi
Trying to please
us, he sings his heart out...
He bleeds liquid of love to erase our pains and doubts
And we dance... and we dance...and we dance
And moon walk and dance -
Yet, we are never pleased...
-- fania simon 09
Janet Jackson comforts her niece Paris Katherine Jackson on July
7, 2009 in Los Angeles during the memorial service for Michael
Jackson.
Photo Credit:
Djansezian/Getty
The Chief Entertainer (King of Pop) from the Never-Land
by fania simon 6.7.03
I kept thinking of
recording part of this song
So I took my pen in hand
And painfully wrote these few lines
Lines that are engraved in my heart
Where I hid my heritage next to him
Oh how I rejoice knowing you are from my tribe!
You were named king
Amongst our people up on the hill
O. the high star that you are!
Only Jehovah can lay hands on your smile
You are well preserved
By our ancestor’s herbs
O. Superstar
You are sitting way up in the sky
And I peaked into your kingdom
Into the Never Land region
And I saw the enemies shooting arrows at your smile
They made your heart lonely tonight
And on this fake globe, you are trapped.
And with these fake habitants, you are trapped.
You ought to keep company with nature,
With innocence,
With the rain,
Until sunshine come to your defense
And you shall escape all fake guards
And you shall stand in front of the mirror
And with our reflections smiling at us
We shall multiply happiness and kindness on earth
They shall never invade your smile again
But remember superstar,
We all have more than one face
Show them your other face-as I’ve done so far
But I urge you to preserve the real one for noon
Cause the mystical genius is coming soon
And together, we shall rejoice in Never Land
Now, let me record this song!
To Michael Jackson -- by Fania Simon [Yesayah]
"Please, pour love into me
while I am living - NOT when I am dead!" fania simon [yesayah]
****************************************************************************************
On the Morning of Al Sharpton's Speech
by fania simon 09
Photo Credit:
Djansezian/Getty
On
the morning of Al Sharpton's speech
Brother Michael rose, but only from those
Who stood sore, and apart from the lines in the sky
Where the power is alive and unseen by the violent flow,
Where tears are judging judgments by their own
Unstable wings, and wind ...
Wrecked. And they gathered in this outlined region, and wept.
But Jesus smiled, for his son arrived safely -
Naked but whole, and finally aroused
From the dirty hands
Of humanity
-- fania simon
"Celebrate the
good in people and stop celebrating the bad in people!" ~ fania
simon [yesayah]
"Only God can give me LIBERTY...and only God can give me DEATH!" -- fania
simon [yesayah]
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"THE
QUESTION"
"Can Animals Make us More Human" ~ Fania Simon
Tribalism
By
Fania Simon
Well, I don't care
if your flowers bloom better
On this Western part of town.
I don't care about your "Indian hair "
And your caramel skin tone .
I don't care about your grimacing gestures
When I tell you about the land where I’m from.
I don't care about your English vs. Cre-glish.
I don't care about the differences in white
rice, beans
Corn bread and collared greens.
I don't care about your lack of soul
In understanding my generational blues.
I don’t care for tribal wars,
And your kinfolks segregations.
I just care for freedom.
Give me a drum
And leave me here in the sun.
I am keeping company with myself
Because I have no sons.
If I speak, you'll say I lack originality.
Therefore, let silence speak for me.
But family,
Can we please fix black on black bigotry?
I think that's the key to our liberty
It’s the truth!
Please, don’t be mad at me!
*******************************************
Danse Africaine
By Langston Hughes
T he
low beating of the tom-toms
The low beating of the tom-toms,
Slow....slow
Low...low -
Stirs your blood.
Dance!
A night- veiled girl whirls softly
Into a circle of light,
Whirls softly...slowly,
Like a wisp of smoke around the fire-
And the tom-toms beat,
And the tom-toms beat.
And the low beating of the tom-toms
Stirs your blood.
***************************
The Middle Passage.
©2006 By Patrick F. Suttle
Only The Strong
They sailed to the
gold coast with trinkets and gin
Conspired with a few brothers to commit an
atrocious sin
That slave mentality is something I truly hate
Herded to the coast in shackles and chains
Bound together like beasts of burden and that's
a damn shame
As they moved toward the ocean dazed and
confused
Packed in the hull with no room to spare
The conditions are deplorable, but do the slave
traders care
To make a profit is their aim
No shame in their game
The more bodies packed into the ship
The more bodies that will survive the trip
**************
W hen I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not shouting “I’m clean livin’.”
I’m whispering “I was lost,
Now I’m found and forgiven.”
When I say… “I am a Christian”
I don’t speak of this with pride.
I’m confessing that I stumble
and need Christ to be my guide.
When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not trying to be strong.
I’m professing that I’m weak
And need His strength to carry on.
When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not bragging of success.
I’m admitting I have failed
And need God to clean my mess.
When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
But, God believes I am worth it.
When I say… “I am a Christian”
I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartaches
So I call upon His name.
When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not holier than thou,
I’m just a simple sinner
Who received God’s good grace, somehow!
~ Dr. Maya Angelou
Photo Credit: Unknown
*********************************
O’ World, Burn Not Our Olympic Flame!
In the spirit of the
Beijing, China
Summer Olympics
2008
By Fania Simon
O pen your mind’s
eye.
And watch us in motion.
We’re swimming.
We’re walking.
We’re flying.
Space,
All inside this world.
Open your mind’s eye.
And watch us in action.
We're standing.
We 're dancing.
We 're coloring.
True elements of vision,
All inside this world.
O’ World, Burn Not Our Olympic flame!
With us, or against us,
Still, you can’t dismiss us.
For, we are here.
ONE.
Populous in many pieces…
Scrolling ink and bathing history,
All inside THE CREATOR’S world.
**********************************
Singer Departed
By James Waldo Fawcett
One
sang a while, then proudly went his way;
And I sat lonely, weeping all the day;
Where others blandly marveled at his art,
I bore his song an arrow in my heart.
For though the careless world was there to see
I know he sang his song for none but me,
And I shall wait his coming nor rejoice
For any beauty ever save his voice!
*********************************
Standing
Tall
by Jamie McKenzie
(In honor of Martin Luther King.)
Some
kings rule their kingdoms sitting down
Surrounded by luxury, soft cushions and fans
But this King stood strong
stood proud
stood tall
When the driver told Rosa
"Move to the back of the bus!"
When the waiter told students
"We don't serve your kind!"
When the Mayor told voters
"Your vote don't count!"
And when the sheriff told marchers
"Get off our streets!"
using fire hoses, police dogs and cattle prods
to move them along
This King stood strong
stood proud
stood tall
Speaking of peace
of love
and children
hand in hand
free at last
free at last
When some yelled for violence
For angry revenge
An eye for an eye
And a tooth for a tooth
He stood his ground
Preaching peace
And when some spit out hate
He stood there smiling
Spreading love
Until it rolled like the sea across the land
Sweeping away Jim Crow
Breaking down the walls
Ringing the bell
Joyfully
For Freedom
Until
Standing on the mountain top
They shot him
Coldly
Hoping to see him fall
Hoping to put him away
To bring him low
But this King
even in death
even today
stands strong
stands proud
stands tall
And we remember
© 1982, Jamie McKenzie, all rights reserved.
This poem may be printed and shared by schools
without special permission and may be sent
electronically
from individuals to other individuals. All other
forms of
duplication, publishing and distribution require
explicit
permission from the author.
***********************************
Dr. Maya Angelou visiting
Glide memorial Church in San Francisco
************************************
Lady: A
Martyr to Love
By Fania Simon
(The
poem is inspired by this beautiful soul
traveler,
Pakistan former Prime Minister
Benazir Bhutto
whom i have never met in the flesh
However, spirits do communicate. )
From
the day I heard of your arrival
I knew that would be the end of your travel
A beautiful soul searching for something to hold
Standing firm before the crowd that eats evil.
A lady, making known all her heart desire for
change
In a land where change is for sell in foreign
currency
There, life always explode
In trading freedom and speech
At a higher rate.
Lady martyr, I am a prophetess
But if I had told you
That your life on earth
Was standing on a short string of breath
You would have laughed at me
And send my heart in exile.
Now, I am watching you from a distance
And I wish you all your desired "heavenly dance"
Please, let go of my hands
And dance to the other realm.
Go! Don't mind me if I weep!
Your veil is all white
And your lipstick is red like blood
May [Allah] [The word means God in Arabic] welcome you
On the other side of this evil street.
Shalom!
"Injustice
anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”
Martin Luther King Jr
Picture by CNN
**************************************
To a Foreign Maid
By OSWALD DURAND (HAITI) Translated by Jessie
Fauset
For
one glance from those eyes
Of such heavenly blue
That they rival the skies, -
My life forfeit to you.
But that's a small prize -
Do you not think so Rose?
Not enough I suppose
For a glance from those eyes!
For a curl from your bow
Of that hair soft and fine,,
Gold as gold corn I trow -
I would give my divine
Hope of heav'n. A poor vow!
Do you not think so Rose?
Not enough I suppose
For a curl from your brow!
For
a little fleet kiss
From your lips cupid wise
Where l'Armour laughs in bliss,
I'd announce family ties.
Even so I'm remiss -
Do you not think so Rose?
Not even to propose
For a little fleet kiss!
For your love Chaste and white
I'd let slip from my hand,
Heaven, life, family right,
- And the dear Fatherland!
Ah! I sigh at my plight!
Do you not think so Rose?
That's too much to propose
For your love chaste and white?
******************************************
FISH
© 2008Adrianne
in Australia
We didn’t build a
house but built something in each other’s life.
We didn’t have a baby,
But birthed things in each other’s life.
But while I bought you gifts
You sold them.
I thought you were a gentle Piscean, a fish,
But you got another short lived job in a fish
shop.
I gave you spiritual gifts
But you lost them.
Pisces means to be born
By turquoise seas, in golden climes,
Pisces means to hate hate,
Love love, and scorn scorn.
Aquarius is to reason with reason,
Uphold truth for truth,
And believe in belief.
I am Aquarius and you are Pisces,
But who filled you with hate?
And why don’t you know your soul can sing?
*************************************************************
A Nightmare Holiday
© 2008Adrianne
in Australia
Only
the whirring wings of flying things in the air,
The empty sound of air as if no God is here.
Only the hiss of waves that pitch and toss,
In a formless rhythm singing a rhyme unknown.
She feels alone.
Only the sounds of voices that curse and swear,
In a senseless babble of meaningless fools,
Who try to touch and leer, speaking the
meaningless language of fear.
Only the breath of fools fuelled by alcohol,
drugs and hate.
To them she is only prey, slipping away,
Eluding them in the creaking maze,
Gliding through corridors, shadows and narrow
stairways,
While the ship creaks and groans like a ghost
ship,
And they lose footing in their mad pursuit.
The bright lady of the sea, the Fair Star,
Once a hospital ship, is haunted by memories of
groans of the sick and dying.
Added now are memories of fearful, pursued prey,
Pursued for play, on a haunted, nightmare
holiday.
To read more of her poems, please click on link:
www.webook.com/project/adepoems
********************************************************************
The Creator's Poetry
By Sir, W. Henry Eccleston (Jamaica)
listen to Sir, Henry on
the Radio
THE MIDNIGHT RAVERS
By Sir, W. Henry Eccleston
"My
work stimulates the intellect and warms the heart...flowing from a
movement that existed before time...
beyond the intellectual dimension...recaptured in an international
setting and evolving into pure art."
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In Between Worlds
By Fania Simon
In between 1st world, 2nd world, and
3rd. world,
I
see shadows of E. Russell
And Sister Chinwe
Standing left and right
Cheering for a foreign soul.
Blackness booking thoughts
Of old time so cruel
Child is standing stiff
Solo at a crossroad
In a school where intellectual rights
Live in power UP THERE.
Down here, in the valley
Blindness is always staring at the blessing
A gift, lost in the hallway
A place with no shutters installed
For protection of a young mind
Traveling with blows from the hurricanes
That came on stage without the presence of spring.
There were walls of walls and no clear calls
And suddenly, fast came Sisters from Jamaica land
With hands of kindness - to create light
To shine a lonely place
Inside where soldiers and teachers were masked in black!
Now, sisters left heaven UP HIGH
With a load of love, and a bright, bright smile of pride
And at the door, there was no gap to bridge Sofi to fleshy
Discriminating issues of nationalism in the Diaspora…
Sisters gave comfort, kindness and enlightened words from high...
What else does a child need from an educator?
© fania simon
"Where one burns books, one will in the end, burn people... "
~ Heinrich Heine (A German Jewish poet)
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"Like everything else, meaningful expression
is an every day thing. The more we grow (on the inside), the more
we will find meaningful things to say because with age, some of us
will know how to get and value wisdom, and understanding...
We all have fear... but we
can also forget fear and cultivate faith!"
~ fania simon
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