STOMP! and AGAIN

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  • Sadness
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  • Anger.

    STOMP! and AGAIN

    Stomp!
    Wailing, yelling
    Whining, grinning
    Sighing, crying
    Darkness overwhelms the earth
    Sadness trails the part of death
    What is this I see?
    Troubles make a sea!

    Stomp!!
    Africa! Land of my pride
    To grooms from afar always the bride
    By the Word;
    the salt of the earth
    Welcome; bold by your gate
    Slave, cow and rich land
    Worked, milked, tilled
    Much more still, do thou yield?
    Oh Africa of my Pride

    But Stomp!
    Chaos doth prevail
    On your land weapons for sale
    On thy shores warriors still sail
    Militant, vagabond, Pirate, Viking and guerilla assail
    Oh! Stomp! But when would this end?
    Oh! Dear, I only can write
    But then who can aright?
    - Eric Akpo (2009)

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    adachukwu2001 commented on STOMP! and AGAIN

    01-12-2010

    Heavy for my heart...but ful of meaning and reality..took me back to militant activities" Niger delta" in perpective...only tomorrow will make aright with me and you, our duty perform

    connsk8 commented on STOMP! and AGAIN

    07-23-2009

    I think what you are saying is that others come and destroy your land and reap from it the goodness and litter it with hatred (guns) and leave behind chaos and sadness and destruction of earth and lives..something along those lines, and it is your Home still always Your Home...I can never know what that must feel like but I am sorry that you do...

    Hampton commented on STOMP! and AGAIN

    05-31-2009

    I couldn't decipher the meaning behind all the phrases of this work but enough to call it a diamond in the rough. Nice.

    RickyArsenal

    06/01/2009

    sorry about that, page couldn't capture it the way I structured it,could've made more sense, thnx however.

    RickyArsenal

    06/01/2009

    sorry about that, page couldn't capture it the way I structured it,could've made more sense, thnx however.

    RickyArsenal

    06/01/2009

    sorry about that, page couldn't capture it the way I structured it,could've made more sense, thnx however.

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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