What a Beautiful Sierra Leone

How beautiful you look in that resplendent blue,
white and green dress.
A ravishing African gown studded with gold and diamonds.
Sweet smelling hibiscus flowers and piquant tamarind trees,
dot the landscape of your loving demeanor.
As gentle winds tussle your palm-leaf tresses,
the deep blue Atlantic waters caress your graceful undulating beach-curves.
The humming birds and cooing doves are at peace in your paradise gardens,
while the fat earth-worms wallow in your rich black soil.
Pedro DaCintra was mesmerized by the firm peaks that jutted
out of your revealing dress
He ogled and drooled but Leo roared in disapproval.
Alas, you kept yourself to suckle children yet unborn.
Like the prodigal son, some of your children have done you wrong.
Though we may travel to the far reaches of this vast globe,
on scoffed feet that reveal our tireless endeavors,
we will always return to your motherly and forgiving bosom.

Cry Not My Love

Come hither my love and bring along your bruised and weary heart,
for in my sinewy arms you will find solace.
Beady eyes that evoke the misty waters that cascade over the Niagara falls,
traversing the contours and bathing your elevated cheekbones with its sweet salinity.
As I fill my olfactory senses with the sweet odors that emanate from your very being,
I gently sweep back the ebony tresses that adorn your Angelic countenance.
Two crimson hearts pounding in unison as Cupid beams for a job well done.
Cry not my love for ours is forever etched in stone.
This love that will stand the test of time, is deeper than the deepest seas.
So high, as to cradle the lofty heights of mount Everest.

The Africans A'coming!

Oh mighty wind, carrier of sweet African melodies.
Sweet songs that waft through these ancient forests,
from distant drums that harbinger a new beginning.
You Africans, keepers of human traditions.
People of the black-hue and builders of the great pyramids,
guardians of secret societies that gave rise to glorious
empires.
Black skin bedecked in glistening sweat of your tireless endeavors
and always resourceful in this land called Africa.
We will rise with the sun, navigate by the stars and see by the light
of the golden moon.
Ours is a collective effort as we sojourn through this life,
to regain our faded glory.
Sally forth you fallen warriors and pick up the pieces of your broken identity.
We will stick together like the sand dunes of the indomitable Sahara,
quench our thirst from the winding river Nile as we get drenched by the soothing
rains from the Heavens above.
Hold your heads up high African men and women,
wipe the tears from your children's faces.
Be strong as the old stones that repose in Zimbabwe.
Tell them mount Kilimanjaro...tell them!
Tell them Sphinx...tell them, for thine eyes have witnessed the trials and tribulations of an oppressed African people.
Plundered riches from these blood-soaked grounds,
that were once traversed by the likes of King Shaka Zulu.
So, invoke the spirits of our martyred ancestors
and reach out for the handles of their burning spears as we march forward to a brand new dawn.
To thunderous footsteps and the beat of the wings of the black-eagle,
in a resounding chorus, announce to all in the universe...that the Africans are here!