I’m An African Child

I’m An African Child



Parrots squawking on the rooftop
Monkeys lounging at the backyards
O! that is my father’s house
My skin is black
My hair is black
My pot is black

I’m an African child

My food is cucumba
Planted by the crest of the breathing hills

I’m an African child

My pasture filled with cactus and aloe
Raised on a husbandry fertile soil

My toy is spinning python
My teddy is hairy lamb
My neighbor is the trumpeting elephant

I’m an African child

My forest is garland jasmine in the west
Palm and spherical melon in the frosty east

I’m an African child
I live amid the wild
Since i was a little mild

Early at the dewfall
My lanky ladies paddled to the flanking sea
My carved men shaddled to their hunting flee

I live here in Africa
Under a blue sky
Upon an arable land
With lushly trees

I’m an African child

I’m black
I’m proud!

ayuba jamiu (c) 2012


7 thoughts on “I’m An African Child” by ayooba (@poeticlicence)

  1. If you must write on a theme as this, make sure it is excellent and unique.
    Other poems on the African child puts yours in a shadow.

  2. Nice. You can certainly do better than this. But this is a really nice attempt at writing on a theme like this.

  3. Nice attempt as layrite said.
    Maybe sometime later you could improve it, but this is okay as an early step.

    This child has an interesting “black” life, but of course not all of them stay in the wild…kidding!

  4. Aside from the fact that your poem felt a lil scattered, like not properly arranged, I think you tried. I like the way you wrote it from the perspective of a child.

    Not too bad.

  5. I like the concept and what you were trying to portrait

    nice try,,,you can only get better.


  6. It’s anthropological undertone is self limiting, otherwise you’ve written pages in a page.
    Look up these great contributions and be grateful they did. Great work.

  7. However, one appreciates this piece more from biomimicristic point of view! Africa lets keep our nature, lest we stuck in the culture of looking back at what once was….

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