Madiba (Tribute to Nelson Mandela)

Like a hurricane,

You cycloned a system of greed

And battle for good of your land

All you brawl for,

to keep them in freedom

In the heat of battle

For ‘I perish, I perish’

You take all stones

and serve the course

I bow to the rareness of your guts

Serving chunk of your being,

confined to those walls

of hate and aggression

yet not consumed by any

You only look to the future

and from a distance,

attest to victory.

Though your conscience,

placed on auction

you bid higher and keep intact

I hail to valor of your pride

Without option,

 your oppressors bow

and without mercy,

Your folks call to hit

Nothing stops your grace to the top

for option ceases within reach

Tables turn,

and you hold the sword

yet you shield away

and give your arms for embrace

I sleet to the splendor of your soul

Elambo N. Tamanjong

If I Were

If I slept in the statehouse,

I’d heed more to motions

than words that are said.

The angst that sway the suburbs

would return with fleur of justice:

If I were who they are

 

If I woke up

with pen of bills in my hands

I’d sign hope into life:

Hope ever untold of the people―

Challenging course of flesh,

and rising above walls of greed.

 

If I sat on seat of decisions

we’d settle all matters in concert,

and dreams brought to life.

Children would smile in content,

  while folks nod in reception.

 

  we all would sit together,

If rations were on my table,

we all would have our feel

and if I had bread and wine

I’d share like body of Christ.

If I were who they are,

we all would be who I am

 

 

Elambo N. Tamanjong

Poet 

 

 

The World at Midnight

The world at midnight

If God paused the world at midnight,
dawn will come heavily crammed.
Earth, stunned
at sight of wonders
that tongues shan’t confess in readiness

We’d see pythons and behold men
and flies perching on walls,
gazing with human judgment.
Some, caught off guard;
half man, half wolf
And others by shores,
doffing fish scales

If God paused the world at midnight!

Strange bed fellows, unveiled:
Fathers on daughters
sons on mothers,
pulpits on brothels
and castles on hostels

Hands known for bible,
bearing arms;
Eyes opened to trusted ones
bashing their own
Masks, unveiled
to spot family as devil’s incarnates.
Next-door neighbours set on yards
mining out futures and sowing calamity

If God paused the world at midnight!

Jungles filled with men,
meeting as wolves
Bodies lay on beds
yet souls converge beneath sea
Graves, unbolt
and dead ones walking the streets
Banquets, on
but wine, replaced by blood

Revelations shall alarm,
then men shall know
There’s just more than what seems.

If God paused the world at midnight!

My Nation

Gifted hands!

To form, and fashion

People of love

Peace and hope

Welcome!

Here, there’s plenty

To spot and consume

Vim of our footprints

revealed in range,

from mountain to sea

desert to grassland

Each one in fame

to keep you sentient

All day long

ensign of regalia

As splendor of paradise

Hills boom from ‘Kolofata’

to praise of ALLAH;

Majestic canoe rides

From waves of the Mongo

to echoes from ‘Bonendale’

spirited waists with ‘ngwashi’

spin in ‘njang’ to awe of  grasslands

and giant steps break soil

to behest of conga

 Falls!

Mountains

Stunning greenery

symbol of our continent

How we’re blessed

We’ve got it all

Hail! Hail! Hail! Cameroon

God bless my nation

(Bonendale, May 12, 1995)

We shall conquer

Though nights trigger fear

Right down to our marrows

As vagueness of who stands at the door

Or aims from the yard,

Drives away slumber

From tenderness of our cradle

Though our anticipations are only dreams

And we open eyes to unending terror

Yet, we hold on to our faith

And we shall conquer.

Though our daughters are snatched

 Right before their future

And sons, wiped out in the mug of their goal

Though suddenly peace grows wings,

And water, swapped with blood

And we look but can’t see;

We gather, yet can’t mobilize

For we know not where arrows aim

Yet, our hope shall be our shield

And we shall conquer.

Though our land becomes alien to us,

And safety, a miracle

And door bang sounds like gunshot

Though terror accompanies our shadows,

Since we know not the enemy

Yet he seems close enough to know enough

Though quickly our smile fades away

And tears soak us to the brim,

Yet a testimony we shall tell

And we shall conquer.

(for all victims of Boko Haram attacks)

Neville Tamanjong

Writer/Actor/Poet