There's too many djembes in the village
You've got to get a bicycle instead
'Cos to the local ladies
A bike is a Mercedes
And you cannot ride a djembe
Home to bed
.....
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A Poem about the Djembe
O Drum of mine,
Who knows my hands,
Speak to me of times ancient
Speak to others of my voice
Let my pain and passion
Run through you and from you
Let the voice be one of healing
Of love, of power and strength
....
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I am the Djembe
Nothing can erase or replace
the unrestricted freedom
of me throwing back my head with eyes closed,
arms outstretched, palms receiving what the rain brings
as woollen plaits saturated with life
pull the skin of my face to the desired pitch.
While my neck - the base of the African drum
proudly balances my head.
Suddenly
I am the djembe
on which the mallets of rain
beat a rhythmical tone
too resounding to be ignored!
......
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Djembe Drumming
Twilight falling on the places
Shadows dance upon the faces,
Of those around who’ve come to play,
Lost in rhythm soon they’ll stay.
Rich in history, a common bond
The drum calls out, we all respond.
The rhythmic sound of each part,
Matches to my beating heart.
==========================================
Where I'm from
I'm from a vision writen in djembe rhythms,
from a scream animated afrikan idiom.
That's where I'm from.
I'm from rivers Nile and Niger,
from Maroon sun down uprising fires,
from painless sacrifice and pure desire,
That's where I'm from.
......
