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Vanity
von admin am 02.07.2017 06:12By ***Birago Diop***
If we tell, gently, gently
All that we shall one day have to tell,
Who then will hear our voices without laughter,
Sad complaining voices of beggars
Who indeed will hear them without laughter?
If we cry roughly of our torments
Ever increasing from the start of things
What eyes will watch our large mouths
Shaped by the laughter of big children
What eyes will watch our large mouth?
What hearts will listen to our clamoring?
What ear to our pitiful anger
Which grows in us like a tumor
In the black depth of our plaintive throats?
When our Dead comes with their Dead
When they have spoken to us in their clumsy voices;
Just as our ears were deaf
To their cries, to their wild appeals
Just as our ears were deaf
They have left on the earth their cries,
In the air, on the water,
where they have traced their signs for us blind deaf and unworthy Sons
Who see nothing of what they have made
In the air, on the water, where they have traced their signs
And since we did not understand the dead
Since we have never listened to their cries
If we weep, gently, gently
If we cry roughly to our torments
What heart will listen to our clamoring,
What ear to our sobbing hearts?
***Poem Analysis***
With all seriousness of purpose, Birago Diop expresses concern over the living’s lack of regard for dead ancestors which he holds in very high esteem.
Like the popular myth in many African societies about dead ancestors, Diop believes that they are immortal and at death, they take up another important role of watching over the living and saving them from unseen forces.
The title “vanity” portrays the folly of the living who in spite of having been bequeathed with many legacies have arrogantly and ignorantly failed to honour their dead ancestors. He laments as follows: “They have left on the earth their cries. In the air, on the water, where they have traced their signs for us, blind, deaf and unworthy sons, who see nothing of what they have made in the air, in the water where they have traced their signs”.In the poet’s view, much of the problems bedeviling the African society stem from our disregard for
African tradition and over-dependence on the Western culture. He laments further: “If we cry roughly of our torments ever increasing from the start of things”. Birago Diop argues that the solution to Africa’s many problems lie within us.
He further expresses the African belief that dead ancestors have the ability to punish erring individuals and warns that if they are not respected or honoured, they would also not help the living in time of trouble- “And since we did not understand our dead, since we have never listened to their cries, if we weep gently, gently, if we cry roughly of our torments, what heart will listen to our clamourings, what ear to our sobbing hearts?”
Vanityis a poem of lamentation.
AntwortenAmbush
von admin am 02.07.2017 06:01By **Gbemisola Adeoti**
The land is a giant whale that swallows the sinker, with hook, line and bait aborting dreams of a good catch fishers turn home at dusk blue Peter on empty ships all Peters with petered out desires. The land is a saber-toothed tiger that cries deep in the glade While infants shudder home the grizzled ones snatch their gut from bayonets of tribulation halting venturous walk at dusk The land is a giant hawk that courts unceasing disaster as it hovers and hoots in space The land lies patiently ahead awaiting in ambush those who point away from a direction where nothing happens toward the shore of possibilities.
**Analysis**
The poem Ambush portrays the socio-political problems facing Nigeria. The poet describes how lofty dreams, aspiration, visions, and hopes are shattered by the political class that continually plunders the nation’s resources. In the first stanza, he directly compares the ruling class with a giant whale that swallows the nation’s resources leaving nothing behind:The land is a giant whale/ that swallow the sinker/ with hook, line and bait aborting dreams of a good catch.
By way of allusion, he further relates the Nigerian situation to the Biblical event where Apostle Peter toiled all night on sea without catching any fish until he met Jesus who told him what to do:blue Peter on empty ships/ all Peters with petered out desires. As a result of the many years of failed governance, the country experiences all kinds of social problems like violence, robbery, insurgence, kidnapping thus becominga sabre-toothed tiger/a giant hawk.
The youths and elder statesmen refrain from agitation for fear of being persecuted or repressed by government:While infants shudder home/the grizzled ones snatch their gut/from bayonets of tribulation/halting venturous walk at dusk. In the last stanza, while the poet looks forward to a generation that will take the nation out of its hopeless state toward the shore of possibilities, his hope is threatened by the ravenous nature of the ruling class:The land lies patiently ahead/ awaiting in ambush, ready to devour the future change-agents.
“Piano and Drums” by **Gabriel Okara**
von admin am 02.07.2017 05:53When at break of day at a riverside I hear the jungle drums telegraphing the mystic rhythm, urgent, raw like bleeding flesh, speaking of primal youth and the beginning I see the panther ready to pounce the leopard snarling about to leap and the hunters crouch with spears poised;
And my blood ripples, turns torrent, topples the years and at once I’m in my mother’s laps a suckling; at once I’m walking simple paths with no innovations, rugged, fashioned with the naked warmth of hurrying feet and groping hearts in green leaves and wild flowers pulsing.
Then I hear a wailing piano solo speaking of complex ways in tear-furrowed concerto; of far away lands and new horizons with coaxing diminuendo, counterpoint, crescendo. But lost in the labyrinth of its complexities, it ends in the middle of a phrase at a daggerpoint.
And I lost in the morning mist of an age at a riverside keep wandering in the mystic rhythm of jungle drums and the concerto
The Dining Table
von admin am 02.07.2017 05:45***By Gbanabom Hallowell***
Dinner tonight comes with gun wounds. Our desert tongues lick the vegetable blood—the pepper strong enough to push scorpions up our heads. Guests look into the oceans of bowls as vegetables die on their tongues. The table that gathers us is an island where guerillas walk the land while crocodiles surf. Children from Alphabeta with empty palms dine with us; switchblades in their eyes, silence in their voices. When the playground is emptied of children`s toys who needs roadblocks? When the hour to drink from the cup of life ticks, cholera breaks its spell on cracked lips Under the spilt milk of the moon, I promise to be a revolutionary, but my Nile, even without tributaries comes lazy upon its own Nile. On this night reserved for lovers of fire, I’m full with the catch of gun wounds, and my boots have suddenly become too reluctant to walk me.
***Summary***
The Dining Tableis a serious poem that records what the poet witnessed during the Sierra Leonean war. The poem opens with a powerful use of imagery that sparks off the reader’s senses. The poet describes to the reader the horrific nature of the war which was characterised mainly by shootings, maimings and death.
The main cause of conflict was the struggle for the control of Sierra Leonean diamonds, the most significant mineral wealth in Sierra Leone which the poet symbolically portrayed as “dinner”. In the second verse, the poet recalls how the guerrillas operated freely and how they brutally killed and terrorised the people.
He remembers how the government forces and their allies which he describes as “crocodiles” also killed and committed atrocities during the war. He also recalls how Sierra Leone was thereafter threatened by an outbreak of the cholera epidemic which led to the death of many of its population.
In the third verse, the poet resolves to be a change-agent (a revolutionary). He admits that though he desires a political revolution, he lacks the power and the needed support for a revolution, having just survived a brutal war.
The Anvil and the Hammer
von admin am 02.07.2017 05:36**By Kofi Awonoor**
Caught between the anvil and the hammer
In the forging house of a new life
Transforming the pangs that delivered me
Into the joy of new songs
The trapping of the past, tender and tenuous
Woven with fibre of sisal and
Washed in the blood of the goat in the fetish hut
Are laced with the flimsy glories of paved streets
The jargon of a new dialectic comes with the
Charisma of the perpetual search on the outlaw’s hill.
Sew the old days for us, our fathers,
That we can wear them under our new garment,
After we have washed ourselves in
The whirlpool of the many rivers’ estuary
We hear their songs and rumours everyday
Determined to ignore these we use snatches
From their tunes
Make ourselves new flags and anthems
While we lift high the banner of the land
And listen to the reverberation of our songs
In the splash and moan of the sea
***Analysis***
Literally, an anvil is a tool with a hard surface used mostly by blacksmiths to work iron. The blacksmith often strikes the surface of the anvil with a hammer. The poemThe Anvil and the Hammerderives its title from this activity. The poem is about the clash of cultures especially the Western and African cultures influenced mainly by the many years of colonisation by the West. The result is a cultural twist leading to a change in norms, values, ethos and the general way of life of the African people:Caught between the anvil and the hammer/In the forging house of a new life. Just as the anvil and the hammer work to shape a new piece of metal, the poet believes that rather than discard the African culture, Western ideas could be used to shape and refine African traditions to create a new Africa. The poet portrays the old African way of life and traditional practices in the following words:The trapping of the past, tender and tenuous/ Woven with fibre of sisal and/Washed in the blood of the goat in the fetish hut.He compares these with the Western culture foisted on Africans through religion and a new system of government. He laments that African values and traditions have been largely eroded –Are laced with the flimsy glories of paved streets/The jargon of a new dialectic comes with the/ Charisma of the perpetual search on the outlaw’s hill.Note the use of the word “flimsy” which he employs to portray the attractions of the Western culture. In the second stanza, he appeals to his ancestors to help restore the old African ways.Sew the old days for us, our fathers/That we can wear them under our new garment.While he admits that Western culture has indeed come to stay and would continuously influence African culture, he pleads for a synergy of both cultures for a better Africa:Determined to ignore these we use snatches/ From their tunes/Make ourselves new flags and anthems/While we lift high the banner of the land.
Crossing the Bar
von admin am 02.07.2017 05:23Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crost the bar.
The Pulley
von admin am 02.07.2017 05:20When God at first made man, Having a glass of blessings standing by, “Let us,” said he, “pour on him all we can. Let the world’s riches, which dispersèd lie, Contract into a span.” So strength first made a way; Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honour, pleasure. When almost all was out, God made a stay, Perceiving that, alone of all his treasure, Rest in the bottom lay. “For if I should,” said he, “Bestow this jewel also on my creature, He would adore my gifts instead of me, And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature; So both should losers be. “Yet let him keep the rest, But keep them with repining restlessness; Let him be rich and weary, that at least, If goodness lead him not, yet weariness May toss him to my breast.”
The School Boy
von admin am 02.07.2017 05:16
I love to rise in a summer morn When the birds sing on every tree; The distant huntsman winds his horn, And the skylark sings with me. Oh, what sweet company! But to go to school in a summer morn, Oh! it drives all joy away; Under a cruel eye outworn The little ones spend the day In sighing and dismay. Ah! then at times I drooping sit, And spend many an anxious hour; Nor in my book can I take delight, Nor sit in learning's bower, Worn through with the dreary shower. How can the bird that is born for joy Sit in a cage and sing? How can a child, when fears annoy, But droop his tender wing, And forget his youthful spring? O, father and mother, if buds are nipped And blossoms blown away, And if the tender plants are stripped Of their joy in the springing day, By sorrow and care's dismay, How shall the summer arise in joy, Or the summer fruits appear? Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy, Or bless the mellowing year, When the blasts of winter appear?
Cont..... FULL SUMMARY OF THE PROUD KING
von admin am 02.07.2017 05:11Become a publishers in a minute . Click below link to access
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The noise without was heard in the hall. The nobles came out, and last of all came the emperor and the queen. When the proud king saw these two, he could not speak. He was choked with rage and fear, and he knew not what. "You know me!" at last he cried. "I am your lord and husband." The queen shrank back. "Friends," said the man who stood by her, "what shall be done to this wretch?" "Kill him," said one. "Put out his eyes," said another. "Beat him," said a third. Then they all hustled the proud king out of the palace court. Each one gave him a blow, and so he was thrust out, and the door was shut behind him. The proud king fled, he knew not whither. He wished he were dead. By and by he came to the lake where he had bathed. He sat down on the shore. It was like a dream, but he knew he was awake, for he was cold and hungry and [9] faint. Then he knelt on the ground and beat his breast, and said:— "I am no emperor. I am no king. I am a poor, sinful man. Once I thought there was no one greater than I, on earth or in heaven. Now I know that I am nothing, and there is no one so poor and so mean. God forgive me for my pride." As he said this, tears stood in his eyes. He wiped them away and rose to his feet. Close by him he saw the clothes which he had once laid aside. Near at hand was his horse, eating the soft grass. The king put on his clothes; he mounted his horse and rode to his palace. As he drew near, the door opened and servants came forth. One held his horse; another helped him dismount. The porter bowed low. "I marvel I did not see thee pass out, my lord," he said. The king entered, and again saw the nobles in the great hall. There stood the queen also, and by her side was the man who called himself emperor. But the queen and the nobles did not look at him; they looked at the king, and came forward to meet him. This man also came forward, but he was clad in shining white, and not in the robes of the [10] emperor. The king bowed his head before him. "I am thy angel," said the man. "Thou wert proud, and made thyself to be set on high. Therefore thou hast been brought low. I have watched over thy kingdom. Now I give it back to thee, for thou art once again humble, and the humble only are fit to rule." Then the angel disappeared. No one else heard his voice, and the nobles thought the king had bowed to them. So the king once more sat on the throne, and ruled wisely and humbly ever after.
Cont..... FULL SUMMARY OF THE PROUD KING
von admin am 02.07.2017 05:09The porter looked on and laughed. "Lay on well," he said to the other servants. "It is not every day that you can flog an emperor." Then they beat the proud king, and drove him from the gate of the castle. "Base knight!" said the proud king. "I gave him all he has, and this is how he repays me. I will punish him when I sit on my throne again. I will go to the duke who lives not far. away. Him I have known all my days. He will know me. He will know his emperor." So he came to the gate of the duke's great hall, and knocked three times. At the third knock the porter opened the gate, and saw before him a man clad only in a mat of reeds, and stained and bleeding. "Go, I pray you, to the duke," said the proud king, "and bid him come to me. Say to him that the emperor stands at the gate. He has been robbed of his clothes and of his horse. Go quickly to your master." The porter closed the gate between them, and went within to the duke. "Your Grace," said he, "there is a madman at the gate. He is unclad and wild. He bade me come to you and tell you that he was the emperor." "Here is a strange thing indeed," said the duke; "I will see it for myself." So he went to the gate, followed by his servants, and when the porter opened it there stood the proud king. The proud king knew the duke, but the duke saw only a bruised and beaten madman. "Do you not know me?" cried the proud king. "I am your emperor. Only this morning you were on the hunt with me. I left you that I might bathe in the lake. While I was in the water, some wretch took both my clothes and my horse, and I—I have been beaten by a base knight." "Put him in chains," said the duke to his servants. "It is not safe to have such a man free. Give him some straw to lie on, and some bread and water." The duke turned away and went back to his hall, where his friends sat at table. "That was a strange thing," he said. "There was a madman at the gate, he must have been in the wood this morning, for he told me that I was on the hunt with the emperor, and so I was; and he told me that the emperor went apart to bathe in the lake, and so he did. But he said that some one stole the clothes and the horse of the emperor, yet the emperor rode back to us cool and fresh, and clothed and on his horse. And he said"—And the duke looked around on his guests. "What did he say?" "He said that he was the emperor." Then the guests fell to talking and laughing, and soon forgot the strange thing. But the proud king lay in a dark prison, far even from [7] the servants of the duke. He lay on straw, and chains bound his feet. "What is this that has come upon me?" he said. "Am I brought so low? Am I so changed that even the duke does not know me? At least there is one who will know me, let me wear what I may." Then, by much labor, he loosed the chains that bound him, and fled in the night from the duke's prison. When the morning came, he stood at the door of his own palace. He stood there awhile; perhaps some one would open the door and let him in. But no one came, and the proud king lifted his hand and knocked; he knocked at the door of his own palace. The porter came at last and looked at him. "Who are you?" he asked, "and what do you want?" "Do you not know me?" cried the proud king. "I am your master. I am the king. I am the emperor. Let me pass;" and he would have thrust him aside. But the porter was a strong man; he stood in the doorway, and would not let the proud king enter. "You my master! you the emperor! poor fool, look here!" and he held the proud king by the arm while he pointed to a hall beyond. [8] There sat the emperor on his throne, and by his side was the queen. "Let me go to her! she will know me," cried the proud king, and he tried to break away from the porter.