The African Child

Admin

The African Child

Beneath the vast and boundless sky,
Where dreams are scarce and wells run dry,
An African child with hopeful eyes,
Amidst the arid lands, he lies.

His feet are bare, his clothes are torn,
Yet in his heart, new hopes are born,
Each day he rises with the sun,
A battle fought, a day not done.

With every dawn, his spirit soars,
Despite the hunger, pain endures,
He walks for miles, no shoes to wear,
To fetch some water, clean and rare.


The school is far, the path is rough,
But knowledge calls, he must be tough,
For every word he learns to say,
Is a tiny victory, come what may.

His laughter rings, pure and clear,
Defying the presence of danger near,
For in his play, he finds release,
A moment's peace, a sweet caprice.

The night descends, the stars alight,
He whispers prayers into the night,
For rain to fall, for crops to grow,
For a chance at life, to thrive, to know.

An African child, strong and wise,
Beyond the struggles, he will rise,
For every hardship he withstands,
Shapes the power within his hands.

So let us heed the silent plea,
Of children strong, yet not free,
Their dreams are ours to help achieve,
With open hearts, we must believe.

You liked this Poem? Never miss a thing! Follow our Social Media Channels for updates and more other stories. Share Freely.

You may also like 

Laments & Hustles 

King Oasis and the Dying Man

Comments

Post a Comment

More Stories

Father Lucian: Inside the Matrix

Image
Whatever I’m about to tell you is entirely true about Father Lucian, a renowned Ugandan Catholic clergyman, and the saga and scandal that unfolded around him. Lucian Mugisha grew up like many other African boys, a devout Christian who embraced his faith and aspired to follow its traditional path. He hailed from the outskirts of Kabale municipality. A beloved lad he was, handsome and charming, attracting all kinds of creatures. Even the local animals seemed drawn to him, a gesture natural of him. Father Lucian. eBook cover by Tukugize Atuhaire.  His dream was always the same, to become a doctor someday and have a wonderful descent family of his own. He poured his heart into his studies, working hard to allow it, unwavering in his focus and ambition. His family, however, had other plans for him. His grandmother, determined to see a clergy member in the family for the first time, insisted he attend seminary school. Lucian, ever sceptical, resisted, clinging to his medical aspirat...
Read

The Children of Gaza

  The Children of Gaza   In the heart of Gaza, where laughter once played, Now echoes of silence, of joy that decayed. The children with eyes, like the moon’s gentle glow, Bear burdens of sorrow, no young heart should know. Their homes, once a haven, now rubbles and dusts, As Israel’s fire, rains down upon their heads, With their cruellest hand, striking with lust,  Turning echoes of joy, into cries of despair.    The West, with their cruelty, indifferent faces,   Arms the terror, then prays for grace to them. Their hollow sympathies, like crocodile tears, Leaving them with naught, but the shadows of death.  Promises float, like leaves in the wind,   Empty and frail, sins veiled and pinned.   While Israel tries to shape their will,   Their tender minds, are never still. Neighbour’s attempts, mere drops in the sea, Could not quench, the thirst of their desperate plea. The UN, aloof, with cold gazes from afar, Condemnin...
Read

How I Met The Most Beautiful Woman In The World

VAMPIRE TALES How I met the most beautiful woman in the world Life was getting hard. I’d given up on ' the library crush' convinced she’s a league beyond, and I was loathing of ' my selfish terrorist neighbour' , losing interest in her, having failed all attempts to plough her again. But my quest to find the love of my life hadn’t died. I still held onto the hope of meeting her someday.  Worse was the state of my pockets, my poor pockets. I was so broke, that I even considered skipping lectures to hustle in town. My necessities were dwindling, and not much use with the gigs and friends for the pandemic had hit us all the same. I contacted my mom, and she promised me some 20K shillings, which I budgeted before it even arrived. I couldn’t afford gas anymore, so I prioritised the cooking kerosene, and vegetables and flour, the balance to settle any abrupt academic necessities. As soon as I received the money, I rushed to buy kerosene, my priority. But to my disappointment...
Read

Mugisha's Heart: Friendship and Unspoken Love

Mugisha's Heart  Friendship and Unspoken Love Somewhere in a small in the outskirts of Hoima, where the sun rises early and the fields stretch far and wide, there lived a lad named Mugisha. Mugisha was a simple and kind-hearted boy, loved by all who knew him. He was always ready to help others and had a shy smile that made people feel at ease. Mugisha's family was not wealthy, but they lived a happy and contented life. Every morning, Mugisha would help his mother with the chores before heading to school. He was a diligent student, always eager to learn and improve himself. Living next door to Mugisha's family was a beautiful girl named Sanyu. Sanyu was lively and cheerful, her laughter ringing through the village like a sweet melody. She had big, bright eyes and a smile that could light up the darkest of days. Mugisha had known Sanyu since they were children, and they had grown up together as friends. But as the years passed, Mugisha began to feel something more than friend...
Read

Laments and Hustles

Laments & Hustles   In a country of potential, under skies so vast, Countrymen stand alone, as shadows are cast. Blessed with riches, the earth and the waters, Yet they’re frozen in poverty, far from free. Corruption soars, through the streets they weave, Blooming in darkness, and broad day light, Strangling hope, making dreamers grieve. Public safes drained, by hands of stealth wolves, Leaving empty promises, no communal wealth. Kinship and friendship, now hollow words, In a jungle of survival, where might is lord. Recognition comes not from merit or plan, But the name of your father, and your clan. Your tribe is your armor, or it’s your chain, In this game of identity, there’s much to gain. Religion, once solace, now dreamless, stark, As tribalism’s flames burn fierce and dark. The trusted leaders, in whom faith was lain, Revealed as the robbers, the cause of the pain. Betraying the trust, exploiting the land, With deceitful tongues and a thieving hand, The rich grow fat, and...
Read

African Woman

Admin
Image
African Woman   O, African Woman At break of dawn, you rise for those you hold dear, In every circumstance, you persevere with love, to make a difference clear. You hustle nine moons, to add a life into this world, You raise us strenuously with love, that we become of a meaning. Seasons shift, yet you remain steadfast, without fear, In strength, truth, and beauty, your presence we revere. Your dark skin, a canvas that glistens, a sight so rare, It shines and glitters, like silver and gold in the sun.  Desire to feel your touch, a sentiment we share, Your hands, crafted from celestial sprigs, show tender care. Your touch heals, and relieves the world, Whatever you mold, a testimonial of your perfection. Your hair, a wonder, leaves many in despair, Waves of joy sparkle from it when it meets the sun. Your smile, a phenomenon to behold, When your lips part, reveal stories untold. Kings quiver at the sight of your gum's dark mold, Your laughter is a cure, more precious ...
Read

The Unseen Guest

 **The Unseen Guest** Families, friends, and well-wishers all gathered at St. Priscilla church to witness the grand ceremony. Azumya, the most handsome man ever seen or whispered was to marry the young Phita. As the organ's melody filled the air, a chill descended upon the church. Whispers among the congregation grew; a presence was felt, unseen but as real as the stone beneath their feet. It was the spirit of the forest, bound by an ancient oath to Azumya, who now watched her promised love pledge himself to another, the one Phita. Father Zemole raised his hands, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here—” But the spirit would not be silenced. With a voice like the rustling leaves, it spoke, “Azumya is mine!” The church gasped, and Father Zemole's words faltered. “Who dares interrupt this sacred union?” “I am Ozum, the spirit of the forest,” it declared, “and Azumya sworn himself to me, here and in the life hereafter.” Back then, before any one every knew him, Azumya was an ugly be...
Read