Under The African Sky by nsampato | English, baby! Blogs

Heart Paintings.

nsampato — Thu, 11 Oct 2007 04:38:13 GMT

Heart Paintings.

Sometimes, it is not enough to talk
And rack my brain for words that
Suit the grace of your walk.
Your sweet stride so flat.
The language of your soft touch
And the warmth of your breast.
Like a kangaroo’s pouch ....
Melts me in your arms as I rest.

The nectar of your sweet lips
Can never be written in words.
The magic of water as it drips
From your hair like glass swords.

Oh what tremors are sent through
My willing and docile spirit
This love is really true
I fail to say but I heavily feel it.

You are the painting of my heart.

Brother's Keeper

nsampato — Thu, 11 Oct 2007 04:35:32 GMT

Brother's Keeper

You flinch and shudder when you see blood

From the wound of a stranger in pain.

You cry for strangers taken by the flood.

You weep at starving kids picking grain.

You pine at another's heartbreak

You agonize when beggers ask for aid.

You feel the pain of a man's long trek.

You scream with the woman who is afraid

You silently moan at the death of a thief.

You hope for a better job for a sweeper.

You oppose the sentence passed by the chief..

And yet you say you are..Not your brother’s keeper.

THE PARADOX OF THE TORTOISE

nsampato — Thu, 11 Oct 2007 04:31:40 GMT

THE PARADOX OF THE TORTOISE

This is not a poem about science.

This is not a physics lesson.

This is a pulse of the human heart.

This is the testimony of reality invisible.

This is the sound unheard across nations

Yet heard within the vibrations of pumping blood.

This is not a Wiseman’s tale or a mad man’s ranting.

This is not a political statement or a lover’s song.

This is not a sad man’s complaint or dirge.

This is not a question nor is it an answer.

This is a wave with no beginning or end

Felt by every newborn and a dying man.

This is not a theory to be debated.

This is not a feeling to be proved.

This is not a dream or a movie script.

This is not a supposition.
This is a fact: He is and we are in Him as One.

When you love or hate you do so to yourself …

For you can not be apart from yourself.

GOBELO; THE ELDERS’ HUT

nsampato — Thu, 11 Oct 2007 04:28:58 GMT

GOBELO; THE ELDERS’ HUT

Come let us sit at communal table
Brainstorm the wisdom imbedded
In many a forgotten fable
Whose truth was with time enshrouded.

It is not human to inflict pain
On another for whatever reason.
It is not human to curse the rain
Because you desire another season.

Be not quick to commit your word
To endeavors you may not do.
Be not quick to lay down your sword
Before the war is through.

Be a good gardener tending
Your orchard with wholeness.
Regularly clipping dry leaves
And gathering the cornstalk sheaves.

Stoop low to an elderly man.
Lift up the downtrodden child.
Carry the burden of a woman
When she gathers wood from the wild.

Put your shoulder to the wheel
And grind the grain to pulp.
Yes, strenuous it may feel
Then rest with a maheu gulp.

Look with love at your neighbor’s fortune
Know that every well has a season
And every instrument its tune.
For every thing lies a reason.

Respect the cowardly hunting dog
Its fear saved the master.
Never trust a floating log
Leave the water before it move. Faster.

Smile at misfortune’s visit
For as soon as it departs
Comes fortune to gladly sit
And gather the scattered parts.

Look fairly on nature.
From its bowels you are fed.
Be of stout or slender stature
With hair black, blonde or red.

Smite not a broken man
Always be a protector of the weak
Empty your pot and pan.
Mend your neighbor’s leak.

As the book is closed and pipes dimmed
The speaker with beard untrimmed
Dusts his coat and frowns
At younger men in new gowns.

Under The African Sky.

nsampato — Mon, 07 May 2007 06:15:08 GMT

Under The African Sky.

There hangs an air thick
With smoking burning wood
There is a sound of a breaking stick...
As your mama prepares food.

My heart thunders for your lips
And the cool fountain so sweet.
Music is slowly swaying hips.

Come my love, abandon your nimble
Self into my restless arms...
Let me chisel on you a symbol
Create song in joints of your arms…

Come away, let’s drink the air.
And gaze at the sky‘s dark hue
A sky unblemished...so fair
Like our pristine love so true…
Under the African sun.