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Quotes about yoruba

You Think You Know Women

Women,
The pepper of life
affectionate and unavoidable
The salt of life
reliable and unreliable
The sugar of life
caring and daring
The water and fire of life
needed but distructive
Like gamalin 20 useful but poisonous
Motor car, joy at first, journey later.

Women,
The cameleon of life with unique colours
Sources of life but unpredictable
The healer and killer
The only wall infront of men
The english call them ''WOMEN''
That is WOE-MEN (Woe unto Men)
Yoruba call them IYAWO

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I am Africa~ Mimi ni Afrika

Is not like a dream
The place of streams
I hear you scream
Ooo Yee my ancestors

Black like the soil
The soil of fertility
Can find all types of oil
Because I am Africa

Natural resources; my park attractions
Tourists fill Africa; they want citizenship
Once, called the Dark Continent, colonial era.
Now is stunning than our freedom torch.

Swahili, Wolof, Xhosan, Zulu
Yoruba, Akan, Hausa, Afrikaanas
Lingala, French, Arabic, Portuguese
And all my languages, shout in unity

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Dance of a god

Life is beating the Ayara-Ekomo drum-
And I am dancing like the priestess of the river
possessed by the mermaid spirit of Anansa-

Even the Sun rises to applaud my passion

Fate has cooked for me- the black soup-
I lick it with the zest of a starved child

I run from the statues of my negriscent
that sing to me the songs of the spirits
and expect me to dance the dance of the dead

I run as far as I can under those hunting eyes of the night
through the thicket of the gathering spirits of the forest.

I can fall to the ground like a Yoruba man
to salute the full moon that illuminates my escape path

The daunting drum-beats of life blends with

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An Intruder

The screen door creaked open.
The plein-aire sun aimed blinding white shafts
at the plated seed-boxes, heating up their hulls.
Inside, Marcellina made her mournful confession
'Rinconosci in questo amplesso'
a laugh, no matter how often you hear it.
Hopping hot the terrace tiles:
southward, the city vanished in smog.
The ESB glinted dully in its hazy pellicle.
I stood blinking in the doorway
wearing a sweeping, snow-white cotton caftan from Connolly's,
its cowl down, looking much like the priest of Yoruba
who lives in the projects across the street
and strolls to the corner candy store on Sundays;
or, watering can in hand
like the ghost of the season, fleeing
or a Roman fertility deity, of priapistic leanings.
White is cool:
For some reason known best to God,
darks drink in sunlight repelled by whites.

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Only Then to Find Myself

When I made a decision
To use the name I was blessed with
Adding a second name that meant exactly
What my first name means in a different dialect...
Folks got upset.
Because I wanted to perfect my identity!
Lawrence S. I was going to be!
People could not pronounce 'Suhuba'.
Thinking it was something like scuba diving.
And when I told them the name was Yoruban.
From true Egyptian/Yoruba tradition...
You would have thought those of colonial understandings,
Had thought I lost my ancestral mind!
I've known who I've been all this time!
I am defined and proud,
To announce my heritage out loud.
Originality?
Being free of subservience,
I imagine that is what is seen in me.
I have an integrity with dignity.

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Yoruba [African] Bride

Mo te' ni. Mo te' ni
Sun mo mi, we mo mi

Our beautous chattel,
Ripe and ripe as these glistening fountains
Let the knowingness of the moment
Frolick nigh your jugging breasts
Held high 'bove these dancing waist-beads

Sun mo mi, fa mo mi
Yarabi lo m'eyi t'o le d'omo

Our African mound,
Formed amid the twigs of strangers
Let your full buttocks, round as full moon
In a low sky at night
Sway and shake farther than the lithe beads

Mo te' ni. Mo te' ni
Sun mo mi, we mo mi

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He Is Lovelorn!

They are divided;
He did not yield when chided.
With equity he sided
Where and when discrimination presided

He was amicable
He used to be amenable
But has become obstinate
Ever since he took love's bait

Now, he is torn to pieces
Clinging to what can only be faeces
When compared to the ritual
Which characterises love that is mutual

He is shattered
His hallucinations scattered
Their union was sundered
As discrimination thundered

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A SELFLESS SERVICE TO AN UNGRATEFUL NATION (Narrative Poem)

One sunny day,
while on Rapid respond Squad
Patrol along Oshodi / Apapa
Expressway we had a
distress call that men of
the underworld are having
a field day at matori

we made a you turn
at Toyota and head
for Matori.
On approaching Ladipo Market,
we at the back of
the patrol van:
a ford Ranger, disabuse
and continue with bounce by bounce
movement toward our location

we had barely pass
the second warehouse

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Maya Angelou

The Rock Cries Out to Us Today

A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Mark the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spelling words
Armed for slaughter.

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Merry Christmas From Around The World

Afrikaans: Gesëende Kersfees

Afrikander: Een Plesierige Kerfees

African/ Eritrean/ Tigrinja: Rehus-Beal-Ledeats

Albanian: Gezur Krislinjden

Arabic: Idah Saidan Wa Sanah Jadidah

Argentine: Feliz Navidad

Armenian: Shenoraavor Nor Dari yev Pari Gaghand

Azeri: Tezze Iliniz Yahsi Olsun

Bahasa Malaysia: Selamat Hari Natal

Basque: Zorionak eta Urte Berri On!

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