Sample Poems

All samples poems listed here are poems by Journalist and author Larry Bate Takang. They are already published poems and are found in the book “Pilgrimage of no Retreat…50 Fascinating Poems” by Larry Bate Takang (ISBN: 978-1-60725-981-7); published in the USA.

For more information about the book, author or his other works, visit the author’s official website or write to You can as well order copies through contacting African Celebrities Magazine.


Why is the world round?
How does it sound?
Why hills?
And why steel?
Who accounts for gold?
And weathers so cold?

Look at white and black
You’ll know there is light and dark
Man is on two legs
Animals or four pegs
Eyes make us see
Though they haven’t letter C

Why all the wonders?
It always makes me ponder
Sure there is God
Some differ with what they’ve got
But still he’s almighty
Who made the world so mighty.

The gentle steps did go
Of an African Black beauty
Her heels with partial embrace
With the artwork of a trained builder
Bore along all she was and had.

Her face carrying a gentle smile
Sent hot cocks on self inspection
As though they were a guard of honour.

Every part was in order
Their shapes and sizes just proportional
To that slender well shaped structure
That even clergies got wet at.

She went, and on, and on, she went
Alighting her trail with warmth and lust.
No mannequin so natural
Had caused men to bother
About a backyard movement
That almost stopped the time.

She was a black…black beauty
A good black angel
Never alluded to in Almighty’s literature
A beauty in the heart of black Africa
With black Africa portrayed in all her beauty.


I am in the nippy of frustration
I shiver with uncertainty
And question the state of my tomorrow
I…like a parrot, prate
To console my being
That there is hope as there is life.

I sail through with kraw-kraw infested body
And purge in my toga
Like a nappy-less baby.
My eyes are red
And salty water drips down my cheeks
With no handkerchief to dry.

I call all day long
For you to come
But your back to me you give.
A thought of which makes me to cry
And wet my shirt all day with tears.

Here at the junction my days I spend
I see the north, I see the south
I see the east, I see the west
But the way to joy, I see not.

I am the sheep
You are the shepherd
But what use is the shepherd
Whose lost sheep he wants not?
Here is my hand stretched out to you
Hold me now and save me
Yes! Save me lord.

                     Footnote: kraw-kraw: Nigerian slang for scabies (2002)


God made the trees
A home for the birds
And a far dream for the tortoise.

God made the waters
An empire for the fish
In which the rats die.

God made the grass
That houses the snakes
But scares the wall geckos.

God made the sky
An impossibility for the dogs
But a gymnasium for the eagles.

God made salt
Good food for the horse
But real hell for the worms.

God made everything the best
For his creation
And the worst
For his creation. 


Frustration kills our aspirations
Ch?meurliness ideals away our days
Franclessness turns us into gate-post beggars
Thus even to Caesar, ours, we can’t give.

Up there ever; African fuhrers say.
Down here at least, helpless voices call
Lazaruses abound
And even the crumps from the rich man’s plate
To us, would not reach.

Here brothers are Rick Shaw leaders
Moved only when pulled
And pulling, many believe beats all prescriptions.

But is vox populi, no longer vox dei?
When our curses and cries stagnate?
Where then is ruler of heaven/earth
Whose ear a pad has seemingly filled?
And our prayers to us bounce back
Adding to these torture from Cam-no-go leaders.

Let a Hanno come
Let a Moses come
And let the red sea to our backs belong


Like a dream
She got up from slumber
Threw off her borrowed clothes
And ate from her calabash
A calabash born and bred in her.

She pushed out her forceful love maker
And re-became the mistress of her home
Her children in one house gathered,
Embraced one and other as tradition require
While others bowed in respect for elders.

She was dressed by her children in fine, fine
Homemade fibres, dyed and coloured in rainbow.
Her shoes became of hairy animal skin
And in her home was displayed ebony carved sculptures.
From her hand was seized her bazooka
And in it replaced an olive branch.

All went to farm together
All ate together
All lived together
In a community spiced with love,
Understanding and co-operation.

There was a head
And there was hierarchy
Hierarchy in age
All the African style.

This was the dream
How she got up from slumber.


Slow beast of mystic powers
In land of thousand flowers
Mysterious from its walk
Though it doesn’t talk
Every power it owns
Puzzles when it is on
As many who do perceive
Store what they’ve received

Some say it’s green
Even when it puts on no grin
While others claim it’s yellow
But for sure it doesn’t bellow
Its name is Chameleon
And there’s no camel lion
But claims it is fatter
Than wall gecko which is flatter

Kids don’t dare to see
This creature with a C
How it journeys up a tree
Whether in years, two or three
For fear of colour dup
A bad luck that never drops
Such is black African view
That the world never knew.


Night has come
And the day has gone
The streets are empty
And the beds are full.
Dreams will come
To spice the night
And the blanket is there
To give me warmth.

The lights are off
And Now I go
To my wonderland
I love so well.
I sing
And dance
And laugh and play
In the land of flowers
And sweet smells.

Day is broken
Again for me
And now my time
To go to school.
School is sweet
And the day is good
But the night…
The best
I want to have.

By Journalist and author Larry Bate Takang) © Copyrights Reserved