The Sierra Leone Web

  Gibrilla Kamara, at the time he submitted these poems in 2017, was a second-year student at Fourah Bay College.  


Voiceless Beaten Drums

Seem'est thou beaten drums but no noise-
Seem'est now talking mobs but no voice-
Struggling hawkers in streets yet no money-
A mountain hive of bees yet no honey-
Alas! The dust has not blind thy eyes
To see the influx of rising tides
The sun, the giant blessing from Heaven
Sets with a fickle of moot hopes driven
Children lie where dirty water runs
Lo! Still we beat our voiceless drums!

Burly air yet we are delirious-
Ah! The steering wheels are deciduous
To HER a humiliating matricide
Where ironic hopes reside
Our government is acting concerts
When our lands are becoming deserts
Every Jack and Jill utter "I will not vote"
'We shall not wear this dreaded coat'
As we stood in the roundabouts
Expressing mendacious doubts

Seem'est now plenitude yet hunger –
Seem'est here patriots yet betrayal-
Our valiant kin are now feeble
Weakened by their hiccupping bellies
Oh! 'They are the best', in benediction
I cannot vilify them hence my adulation
As I reside in this part of the world
With crackling questions not yet hurled
Let's beat our voiceless drums
- As our children lie where dirty water runs!


"That's My Africa"

The manic Sahara of nomads
Flying through the land of the Fulanis
The towering sand pads
Showing the pride of ancient pennies
The celestial Maghreb contingent
Forms the world's deterrent.

Lotus-life of the Gold coast
Outlined a background of the African
As the peninsulas towers a toast
Displays the beauty of the Black man
The free states of Ghana and Guinea
Were reprieves for Africa's independence.

The great rift valleys of the east
The firm roots of Ethiopia
The radiant dawn of the sun's heat
Rises above your mountains in an utopia
A rich culture of peace
Grant the wild an ease.

The southern solid plains
Towering the strength of freedom
From encroaching racist chains
Forming a strong urban kingdom
The lands of Congo and Madagascar
All sings praises as Africa.

The land of the fleeting antelope
And the endearing rising sun
The giver of ancient and new hope
The deep Nile and pyramids on
Exult a land of grace and power
That's my Africa!


"Creative Fool"

I am the creative fool
Washing in a dirty pool
Writing praises to Lords
In saucy and flattery words
Taking ideas from trash
Using them as my scratch
Not sleeping day and night
Holding my quill tight
Forging messaging lines
To those weak minds
Who have lost their mark
And wander in the dark
I bring a candle that glow
The way I hope to show
I am like a wise drunk
Busy on a tree trunk
I wish to take the lead
Not in tankards of mead
But in the graces of hope
I want to bath and cope
Sending wise mails
To cure societal ails.



To My Mistress - B-

Despair alone can show me so divine a thing
Where feeble hopes could not have seen
My love is of a birth so strange
Towering all with blessed peaks of age
You came under the tendering cloak of a friend
To my couth fears, did ye attend
Your scaly brown eyes of nature's worth
Roll in conjunct daringly back and forth
Your precious smile surpasses an emerald
To my soul you're a comforting herald
Supple radiant body with a colorful skin
Heaven dwellers miss their Kin.
Shaped with a perfected curve
Personifying the Goddess of Love
Your gentle hands and lips
Make my heart skips
Did you fell from Heaven to earth-
While taking a reincarnating bath?
No wonder the sun did shine!
You it hope to find
At night the moon follow the trace
Seeking for that beautiful face
The sentinel stars set their watch
Your heart they hope to touch
This to them I will send
'You are mine till the end'!


'Why I am puzzled'

Why do you thrush?
Oh! Saucy pedantic feculent!
In the raveling combs
Of our inescapable fees
That results in foul disease –
Hopes deluded
By your irreversible ironies
Our morning stories
Plagued by sugar coated tongues
That flows
In uninterruptible waves
Clearly saying
Who doth cares?
As they flow in tears?

Our green fields
Become dark and brown
As gardens glades turns fences
The path ahead dimmed
By the respectable patriots of our land
Our faces becomes blue
We are reddened
By the meat of rodents and flies
You feed upon our cost
And become fatty and oily
Has HE lock-up your hearts?
Forever, till you depart?

The boulevards of uncanny stories
Uncovered day-to-day
My mother weeps!
Our fathers are unkind
They listen to the humming tunes
Of their aching pockets
And feed us with never-ending lines
Of fruitless words from the caskets of their medullas.

I hear the words of a merchant stranger,
Saying, this land is abounding
Fueled by boundless vanilla minerals
Secretly exposed deep in the earth below,
I will make this my home!
While the natives wallow
In never-felt luxury
That is expressed in daily speeches –
Robbed of their rights
Their dignity and honour spilled
And sources the veins of their hearts
Schooled in uneducating locks
When they de-affirm
And stand for what is theirs,
Aliens found it native
And dwell in the maxing graces
Of a blessed home!
I remember Bai Bureh of old
Proving his people right
For that he even fight
Though alone in this
He never despairs
His indemnifying faith makes his character
A native in the keep and watch
For fellow countrymen –

We are sanctified with potent people akin
But the love of office and money
Food, clothes and shelter
Has purchased their will and might
It's a piteous sight

But the graceful graces of my Motherland
Has fire-up my hopes
My brothers! Our hopes are tied
The Peninsulas are our foundations
A fleeting Antelope can be felled
But never a raging Lion
I wish not to be an insurgent
But my Mother's blood call for help
And cried for a United Front -