Wednesday Poetry Corner: Featuring Sue Lobo

Sue Lobo has submitted a beautiful poem about MOTHER from the perspective of Africa’s mothers. Don’t forget to send in your poem. There is still time!

 

MAMA AFRICA:

by Sue Lobo

(PHOTOGRAPH OF BABY ON MOTHER´S BACK-SHOWING ONLY BABY´S FEET- BY WONDERFUL PHOTOGRAPHER-Christian Baillet)

Your face etched upon old cave walls,

Your smile painted by a million suns,

Your laughter echoes through eon’s halls,

Your legacy to Africa´s daughters & sons.

Water pot carried upon your head,

Baby strapped tight to your warm back,

Feet plodding, cracked as drought & hard as lead,

Carrying all you own in old hessian sack.

You search, you carry, you sow, you reap,

You walk for miles seeking food & herbs,

You smile, but inside you eternally weep,

You tell your secrets only to beast & birds.

As the spider, you weave strong web of silk,

Uniting your continent in a colourful quilt,

Backbone of Africa, of blood, dust & milk,

You´re the earth on which Africa is built.

POETRY BY SUE LOBO:

(PHOTOGRAPH OF BABY ON MOTHER´S BACK-SHOWING ONLY BABY´S FEET- BY WONDERFUL PHOTOGRAPHER-Christian Baillet)

About Dr Niamh

When I was a little girl (a very, very long time ago), I used to love learning new, really big words like ‘discombobulate’. As I grew, my love of words grew too, until I loved them so much, I could not stop writing them down. One day, as I was scribbling a particular word, a very peculiar thing happened. The word shouted at me, “Stop! Don’t put me there!” As you can imagine, I was shocked and nearly fell off my chair. When I recovered somewhat, I said to the word, “Could you stop shouting, please? I am not used to it.” Can you guess what happened next? No! I thought not. The word said, “I might be small, but I will misbehave if you do not use me properly. I will not tell the story you would like me to tell. I will say something entirely different!” I dropped my pen. I hoped that by dropping my pen, the word would stop talking. Alas! It did not. It carried on chitterchobbling, even after the ink had dried. I was in a pickle. I could not allow my words to run away with my story, now could I? I don’t know about you, but when this sort of thing happens, there is only one thing left to do if you prefer not to spend your time arguing. “Very well,” said I. “I will do as you ask if you will just be quiet and allow me to concentrate.” Since that day, I have been paying special attention to every word I invite into my stories. After all, a story should say exactly what it means to say and not be led astray. With love from Dr. Niamh, Ph.D in Learning Through The Imagination and Founder of Dr Niamh Children's Books. www.drniamhchildrensbooks.com

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