Duotrope: an award-winning resource for writers
Poemify Bookstore gift card


Oh Africa,
When shall these wounds heal?
When shall our fields be evergreen?
Must we go through this wilderness of pain?
Fallen heroes lament the downfall of our once beautiful city.

Sore eyes from wailing wells,
This city where once where freeborn!
Come, thou emissary of fate,
Have you not perceived the terrors and destruction herein?
Smoothen not my soul with your hope-filled jars,
Nor your sleeping slumbering fantasies.

They come with a cup ful of pinned promises
Singing songs of salvation to our weary ears
With this drowning drooling dreams
And ripping ripened realms
They came with bells of disembered peace
To shred the rope of our unison in pieces

Tell me,
Is this the polished goodwill
That stood like a flag in the gates of the city?
They promised royal garments,
Here we are, clothed in sackcloth.
Severed is the cord that held together, our great city.

Tell me,
When shall these tears cease?
When shall these sufferings end?

Tell oma,
Our maidens gloat in pain
Enslowed with fractured future

Tell Adaobi,
We no longer want disguised saviours,
All we want is a redeemer!
Who shall redeem us?
Who shall stand in the gap?
Who shall bail us out in this prison?

Join Poemify Telegram Group

Poemify is redefining African literature with everything poetry, fiction, nonfiction, book reviews, creative rants, letters and opinions.

Leave A Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.