POETRY ABOUT ZAMBIA

By

Charles Mwewa

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Mother Zambia

Mother…
Of mound display
An unexplored Eden in Africa;
Full of Nature’s best
And an endless of tradition…
(To Zambezi -
To pay an invocative visit:
The people on superstitious gravity)
To you Mother…
Higher vows I pay.
Your soils are veins of life,
The peace
The Joy
The resting
Your people, my people,
Occupied
In structures of thatch
And decorated mad walls!
Your idyllic terrains;
Much more unexploited.
Your virile bushes;
Much less inhabited.
Your smiling hopeful visage
Is the ink that pens this message…

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Over the Seas

Here my people, I write
From over the seas, I write
To people dark and lovely,
May I write.

I am yours from abroad
I am a patriot and a child
Your own blood
A product of your need.

To my motherland,
In the fair and brown land
A place of civilization’s splendor
And birth place of culture’s grandeur.

Here they come to seek fortune
In the lands of fruits and pearls
Where music never lacks in tune
And women keep long hairs.

I am yours from overseas,
My name I have not changed,
Though I be gratified abroad
Yet my wish I will not alter.

My people, I write
And yours still I am
Even from over the seas.

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Christian Nation

My country is a Christian nation,
A declaration of the century
A transition indeed
To the people in need.

My country is a Christian nation,
A declaration of good faith
A transition indeed
To a people who read.

My country is a Christian nation,
A declaration of trust
A transition indeed
To a people who hate greed.

My country is a Christian nation,
A declaration to God’s glory
A transition indeed
To a people great in deed.

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Chitambo

Passing by Chitambo we saw a tomb
Whose epitaph was a dual petition
To the god of the feast of Hecatomb,
Written below was a re-petition.

He passed away with hands in akimbo
After braving the nip of fillaria,
And shunning many calls from the limbo
But was met by a shell of malaria.

This man bemoaned a German war Gotha
And found a panacea in helpful Chuma
Whom he taught the secrets of Golgotha
Whose blood-flow cures the tumor of Guma.

We hear sounds rattle from clouds in Congo
Sending dark and heavy rains of defiance
Smashing civilizations as ingle,
Washing them out without any reliance.

We come home back to village Chitambo
To water the plants of our great Sambo
Whom we rhyme in our book about poetics
Who savors the African politics.

Africa is now a Cinderella
Her beauty should not be spurned as loveless
And a reed-mat shouldn’t be her umbrella
And she shouldn’t be let to hold sap gloveless.

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Mibenge

Mibenge, I do remember,
It was here, the root of my roots;
Across the trans-border journey
Crossing the Luapula River.

I do remember my childhood
And our fishing in Mulonga
With all the thickets and bushes
And our ancestors in ashes.

We have come to Mibenge,
The place of childhood scenery
In our fondest memories byes
Where my own beloved father lies.

These earths calmly rest Ngalula
Next to my father’s chummy breasts;
In here, I remember innocence.
For tears, unlike memories, dry

Mibenge, where men ever fade
And depart before they can grey.
Mibenge, I remember nuts
A treat only called intwilo.