Capture it now....

So many of those things
we must care to capture
before, as we've been told,
they escape--something to do with
the nature of ideas--and we'll
never again find them, or if we do,
we will as with the same palate
that took us there in the first place.

But I need to tell somebody now,
tell myself, reminder, about the day
I could have done what I'm doing now
but something I knew
dared me on, and I cowered,
perhaps not that exactly, but
I looked down then inward
and felt the small teeth of caution:
so while I'm feeling horrible
about this or that not yet accomplished
I have known too that accomplishment
that happens in public view
is not always a reflection of the failure within.

So many things, so many things:
and I hear some of you whispering:
Tell us, tells us now...
and laughing, I will pick satchel,
walk one or two steps before
I tell myself to face it....

I have loved you before

I was never one to believe in reincarnation..but I know you..
I know you..
We have met before..

I have loved you before..
I know we have shared more than brief smiles and shady "hellos"
We have shared a bed together and made love, I remember that day every lover in each galaxy envied us..

I have loved you with the love so deep it turned me into a yo-yo..
I was under your spell and in you I had blissful moments..
I have loved you with the love that turned me in and out of myself and made me a better me..
For when I loved you, love allowed me to love you and see beyond the pains, heartaches and betrayals..

I know we shared much more than the air we breathe..
We have made plans, set under the sky giggling and having ice tea and a few drinks..
We have spoken about starting a family.."I want twins" you said..

I have loved you with the love that is Godly..
It had no boundaries..
It defied the laws of our land..
We had fought for it..together..
Love so unconstitutional and uncomfortable to some..so unconventional and unconditional..
I have loved you with the love of God..

I know you..
My heart recognizes and my subconscious registers your existence..
My spirit lingers at your hearts door..
It knows you in and out..
It had visited your every fiber once upon a time..
It was the very reason you laughed and cried...

I have loved you before..
I know you..
Every feeling tells a story that was once lived through our eyes..
My mind has forgotten but my heart remembers..
My senses know you..

Yet we pass each other like the winds of the dessert..you are West..I East ..
You are day and I night..
We are like the sides of the coin..

I know you..
I have loved you before
You have loved me back with the love of God..

By Thuthula Sodumo ( South Africa )


photo credits ;  www.spiritualhowto.com

Royal love....

Come to me thy love~

in the twilight hour...

let us sing silent songs with our tongues, sharing

entincing kisses~from your velvet lips~to mines

Stay and watch the sunrise ~

paint the hues of amber,

sprinkled with a hint of periwinkle~

above the crashing waves of Lake Shore Drive...

Hold me close,

softly, tender, but strong~

molding our warmth in your masculinity...

Our hearts beating  as one,

my fragrance becoming your oxygen,

as your frankicense becoming mines~

with you...and..

only you...

is where my

heart resides.

Stroll along the blue green waters 

your hands entwined with mines~

our voices being  

one another's music

inspiring poetry in motion~

moving with God's essence ~

as the birds sings...

Our chemistry plays the melodies~

concertedly~

we will be the romance

today's youth

only view, in ole skool

films.

Come with me~

travel within

my eyes~

be a man bold as Moses...

peek beyond my chestnut brown eyes...

where my pupils are the treasures to a 

angelic soul~

traveling through this wicked world,

by faith

and magnifying the Lord's angels,

whom sing to me in his presence.

I'll share a glimpse~

of a euphoric acquaintance, 

your mind shall promise to repeatedly

retreat to.

I want to bathe~ in

lavender &  aloe...

your

skin against

my

skin...

My butter pecan temple welcoming your

carmel coated limbs,

wrapped around my lower body 

as we float...

mesmerized in the dishabille adornment

of a passionate love's afterglow.

I'll be your Queen,

King...

Standing fearless & elegant

I'll be your armor against dark moons & gray skies~

The remedy to your doubts,

when the world's critic fall short

to raise their glasses,

missing a great opportunity to 

salute your crown. 

My prayers will release power of 

Esther, Sara, Ruth & Mary

sacred and intangible strength~

Always moving forward~

mapquested by biblical scriptures

journeying world wide in God's love,

evolving on amour's note~.

Come with thee thy love~

You are MY King,

I surrender to you solely...

I thank you for your forebearance~

The heavens have given me confirmation

you were customized for my rib...

It is in your diligence,

your posture aligns with the many characteristics of a 

God fearing man...

My gift of discernment 

endorses~as we

kneel...in the very precious~

seconds...

minutes...

moments...

hours...

days...and nights...

where romance concedes~

what you've confessed all the while,

whispering in my ears~

sweet truth & stimulating creativity

praising my beauty ~

externally and internally 

day in and day out~

challenging my mental,

stimulatinng one another respectfully,

bowing down...

humbly~

in

OUR

monarchical

Love.

By: Jacqueline Silva Gibson(Silva Poetica)  ( South Africa )

photo credits ; www.smashingmagazine.com

A love with so much doubt...

She loves with doubt,
not sure of what to expect,
she tries to trust,
but,
all he cares about is,his lust,

funny how he claims its true love,
he tells me we are meant to last,
he claims I am, "the love of his life",
I love,
but,
just like she loves,
                                                                                    I love with doubt....

By  Sarah Suwilanji   Sichilongo ( Zambia )

artwork source: www.coolchaser.com

Letter to the most High!

Dear God..

I am utterly disappointed in your logic and sense..
I have failed dismally to look beyond everything that I have, that I had and maybe yet to have..

Just how do you explain yourself to that woman who suffers day in and out?
How do you explain yourself to that 6months old baby dying of cancer your reasons for letting her suffer?
What about that woman that has suffered day in and out for her family, used and abused what do you say to her, till this day she carries the burdens to and fro..
She prays and declares you the greatest and puts you before and after everything she does..what do you have for her? How long must she suffer huh?

What do you say to that 23 year old who has a dream, a passion, a talent when all his plans are in vain..
Day in and out he prays..he fasts..he reads the bible but nothing happens, he has endured a lot, fought a lot of battles why are you so blind to him?..
That hungry soul who dreams of a better life and goes nowhere..
That young girl who is in varsity but failing even though she gives it her all..
That intelligent lady who has passed with distinctions but can't get in cause she's poor?

The wars? Those children raped and infected by diseases by their fathers and brothers..
Some left to die after being decapitated..
How do you comfort that little boy who just got raped by his step father and that other day his uncle friend raped him too, he cried and prayed what did you do? Why did it happen again when he prayed for it? ..
That one month baby who got raped this morning in an attempt to cure AIDS what's that about?
What exactly are your reasons for this? ..

Where are you when this young lady is called a barren, beaten up by her husband because she can't carry any babies long term.. Miscarriage after the other..her in-laws hate her and yet she still praises you.
What about that woman who's womb got taken out when she really wants her biological child? What are you going to do for her?

Help me understand here..
How do you do it?
How can some have it all and yet some have nothing at all..
No air.. No food..no nothing..
Why? What are you trying to say?
Some has it rough and their pain and suffering is never justified and some have it all, they do not know how tough life can be..
They are born with a silver spoon..
All is great to them..
Life is just a big adventure..

Blue cheese and croissants this morning with a never ending choice of what to eat..
Water, dirty water which isn't even safe to drink, you drink it you die..
The logic behind this is???
Fancy schools, cars, houses..
When others live on the streets..
Seasons change and their fate remains the same..why?
They still pray too..ten years down the line nothing's changed..

Make me understand how do you work..
How are we equal in your eyes..
That woman and man who was stoned to death because they are homosexuals..
That girl who died having a backstreet abortion..
All of this care to tell me what is it about?
That poor child who's mother is dying, who will look after her?
That disabled girl/boy with dreams and hopes and wishes? How will you help her? Are you just going to leave it? The unsung songs? Huh?

Who get's blessed by you and who gets cursed?
Who's in your favour and what do they need to do because we both know those filthy staggering rich people some of them careless about you..
We would all like to think it isn't about money, riches but we all know it boils down to whose pockets are deeper..why? Why are some deeper than the others?
And here we are day in and out pushing and praising you.. And what have we got?

Heartaches..
Disappointments..
Endless wars.
Unfulfilled dreams..
Empty souls..
Homeless..
Raped..
Diseases..
But why? Shed some light.
You gave us inquiring minds therefore these are my enquiries no disrespect meant..
No love lost..
But just the questions..these raw heart wrenching questions?
Why? What is your logic behind all this?
In the end who wins? Who loses? Who cries? Who smiles? And why?
Those that hurt and are poor why them?
Those that are rich and happy why also?
Your logic..why?

By Thuthula Sodumo  ( South Africa ) 

Artwork credits:  www.holyebony.blogspot.com

Our lost past

There was a time when our friendship used to mean something
that time stands forever locked in my heart
because you were my friend.

Now time has drifted us apart
torn by the merciless tentacles of this life
distant horizons
erstwhile closest buddies.

There is a time when I wish to see you
there are moments that I long to hear your voice
there are instances I wish to hold you close
to bask in the glow of your embrace
to be that person who mattered.

Now the time has gone
leaving empty footprints
embedded in the realms of a lost past
a shattered dream
a friendship betrayed

Now the memories refuse to fade
vivid they are
unwavering in their content
making me wish
if time could be made to stand.

Lamenting over spilt milk will not help
brooding over it will hurt more
 I wish I could, for a moment,
understand why things changed
to bring us to this a phase
where it hurts
to think that I once loved you.

By Pardon Gwara ( Zimbawe )

photo credits : www.nollywoodgossip.net

An Avatar's Cry

Darkness. I was the first to arrive. Any blind, deaf and dumb archeologist will attest to that fact. In the middle of all the chaos and trials of my times, I have survived.

Due to the continental drift, however, my dear bright brother and I found ourselves separated. Fate would have him sent North, East and West, to the lands of greener white pastures. Evolution would take over, take its toll, and while mine allegedly stunted, he tells me his development took giant leaps.

For the most part, I am always proud of this darkness. Like the heavy black clouds in the sky suggesting enriching rains to the highlander, I promise the grandeur of generations. At least I believe so, yet find myself questioning this ideal ever so oft. He has compared me to the ape, my complexion to all that is sinister...the black hole of Calcutta, black magic, the black plague, Black Maria...everything that is impure.

To further his conquistador's interests in the Industrial revolution, he came back for me. Captured me. Required, nay, forced me to work to death. A slave, my race exterminated, borne down to the very bone. Black history, thus, is littered with dark histories of bloody murder.

His superior weaponry condemned me to No Man's Land; still I bore it bravely. Despite the tribulations. Truth be told it was less a question of courage, and more one of a resistance thence proven futile.

My little infant, my homeland, was thus plunged into a cycle of irrevocable disorder, her naivety lost in the brothel whose twilight girls still linger distinctly to this day.

At the risk of losing all our camaraderie - or lack thereof - I fight his abuse by means necessary to restore my dignity. Despite my having been traumatized by past experience, he and brothers red and yellow - an old order despite the new black president - seem determined to sit back and watch me writhe in painful oblivion. Matter-of-factly, they aid and abet that vicious circle.

His discrimination, his oppressions, have proven augmentative, rising from strength to strength as he pursues the 'greater good'. He continues to defile my land, the virgin lands of mother Africa, little exposed to the evils of his world. Violated! Corrupted! Abused! Leaving me estranged, delicate to a fault, my heart full of avid malice; no wonder the shame abides, the scandals, the burning rubber and roast smell of death...will I ever rid myself of this pungency?

Master of my own destiny, he teases me. Really? Living in cardboard houses? A tattered existence, barely managing a dollar a day? Really? Am the jack of all trades, the gross drawn you can barely stand, a slave to the poor control of my Master destiny.

The fact however remains that I am the thumb, the human race the hand. Sure am farther away from him, them. But without me that hand can never be truly self-sufficient. At least, he claims, I am free. Free to forever be indebted to him to the nape of my neck. Released from the franchise and into a world that barely makes third best in a crowd of three.

Let's see what tomorrow reserves for me, me and my resources both natural and unexpected. Untested. Who am I? Haven't you seen me before? Killed me dare I add? Of course you know you have, dear brother. My noble face is hardly peculiar to you. For I am the departed man, the prodigal son, the infamous man...the black man.

By  Fred Wambugu Maina  ( Kenya )

photo credits; artwork  "Love Cocoon"  by Wiz Kudowor.

For Him i Shall!....

Broken scenes and fragmented acts, mystical
 language,traces amid lines please communicate to him
 the contents of my life bearer and tell him i shall,
 for him i shall
break away out of the imprisonment of my humanly
 flaws.
That for him i shall! resist the urge of temptation from
the experiences of the coarse hair between my plumy
 feminine curves.
That for him i can learn to be selfless and make
 him earn my love without doing nothing at all
but taking me as I am.
Mystical language, make him understand that for his
 delight I can abandon mine life for ours, steer away
from being daddy's pride to
daily being Mrs 'his last name' and endevour the
capitalist relationship if his love be my
wage, if his appreciation be my reward and if his entire
being be the source of my livelihood, for him i shall!

By Lineo 'She-him' Nts'ohi  ( Lesotho )

photo credits: www.omgghana.com

Your Hanging Hair ........

Fingers laced within threads

Threads upon my pale face

Hanging down like silkened fibers

I touch each one asking for favor

A request I shall patiently await

And await is my game that I always play

Distance my only misfortune

Patience is the whistler of the game

Blowing from lips silenced by oceans between

Imagination kills the desire of being with

Whose waters of green unknown shall I swim against tides for

Each tide and bolt I evade would grain for my steps towards you

Pebbled sands once remote and unsteady with time do my feet now firmly become poised

But yet you are here in mine and I'm there in yours wiping away the dim thoughts

My tongue, has sipped the waters of your soul that were once parched

What a sweet taste and deep touch on your hanging hair.

By   Med Kanour and AS Lopez   ( Morocco and United States of America)

photo credits: www.abstract.desktopnexus.com

Decades of bullets....

Ouagadougou, Ouagadougou, Ouagadougou
See a procession of young mothers chattering their way
From water fountains in grenade torn sandals
And blood laced bras

Somalia, Somalia, Somalia
See the moon disappearing in a mass of gun smoke
Guns splitting the stars from the skin of night

Rwanda, Rwanda, Rwanda
This is a wound from which the pus of grief flows freely
Meandering through rock masses into the valley that lost its freedom

Timbuktu, Timbuktu, Timbuktu
I hear a rush of footsteps of sorrow
Rugged peasants carrying their compounds to far away valleys of flowers.

By Mbizo Chirasha ( Zimbabwe )

photo credits: www.http://www.uci.edu/features/2011/10/feature_wwp_111007.php

An ambitious generation...

Pushing 20

 

Goodbyes are messy,

 Agony guaranteed.

 The teary eyes,

 The prolonged hugs.

 The awkward urge

 To pour out one’s feelings.

 Would rather abide

 In the comfort

 Of familiarity.

 Plus there is no death

 In the cowards’ land.

 There

 Shall I pitch my tents?

But there is adventure

 In unknown territory.

 Here

 Possibly I’ll thrive.

 A fine line

 I will walk:

 My younger brother

 Says I’m a ‘grown-up’.

 My parents

 Refuse to accept this as fact.

 I suppose

 I am right in the middle.

But the world expects

 That I will shine forth:

 Produce

 The newest invention.

 Discover

 A miracle prescription.

 Conquer

 A stubborn economic principle.

 I’m pushing 20,

 The new 30.

 My peers

 Have performed wonders.

 One a business executive

 At the tender age of 21,

 Another

 A renowned billionaire

 At only 28.

“Hurry up!

 Make a name for yourself!

 Save the world!

 If not,

 Conquer the earth!”

 The pressure is great

 -Yet I must proceed.

 Let’s make

 Our thrilling fortunes

 But they might crumble.

 Should I hasten

 The work of Time?

Make hay I will

 Yet the harvest

 May delay.

 I will be an adult.

 I will struggle,

 I will sow,

 I will sweat.

 I will earn

 My maturity.

I’m pushing 20.

 Prove myself

 I must.

 Yes

 This is

 An ambitious generation.

 But a hastened fortune

 May disappear in a day.

By Tebogo H. Ndlovu  ( Zimbabwe ) 

picture source :  www.globalgiving.org

X marks the spot...

X marks the indelible spot,
I laid you to rest,
love of my life.
The clouds have gone grey and weary,
dark,
and turned their backs on me,
to receive your most pure spirit.
The void you have rendered me,
has left me numb and wasted.
Only memoirs,
of the passion we shared in abundant supplication,
will forever attempt,
to bring me closure to your departed soul.
I stand on your shrine,
your final home of serenity,
to try to fathom why the earth never gets satisfied on feeding,
taking away from ashes to dust what,
me and other mourners adorned in black,
hold their most prized possession.
In this world,
you have left me,
empty,
redundant and alone,
to face its' woes and worries,
through trials and tribulations.
Now I can say with courage:
I am alone...
X marks the spot,
I come to lay this wreath in my hands.
A beautiful embellishment,
of white flowers woven together,
to remind me of your unsurpassed and surreal aura.
Let the tears I drop down in torrential rains,
fertilize where you lay and give you refreshment and life forevermore,
let them water your soul and replenish the love you gave me,
in times you and I loved to experience.
Let them give growth,
to this bouquet I lay on you,
so that is grows and covers your lovely home,
to make it your earthly paradise.
X marks the spot,
which after all is said and done,
I desire to leave not... 





By Alex Nyasha Dube   ( Zimbabwe )

picture source ; www.sahistory.org.za

In death, silence reigns.....

In the midst of it all
when the burden of life has 
weighed on their shoulder
faces all gloomy 
hopelessly hopeless.

Weary hearts string melancholic melodies
a cry, silent in the world
yet shaking their inner beings.

It is in those moments
those instances
where, so to them it seems,
the soft embrace of death
can be a welcome companion
because in death
all they have been
forever locked, it shall remain
and to those above them
they become equal.

Nothing matters anymore
nothing really did
so in this death
silence reigns .


By Pardon Gwara  ( Zimbabwe )

photo credits: www.myafricatoday.blogspot.com

INDEPENDENCE AVENUE.....

I lost my home to a new road

And they said it was the gains of freedom

My humble burrow in the earth

Was plastered with gravel and tar

Eternally sealing my lips, my voice would never be heard

I yearn for the one they called the dirt road

For then my right to this land was respected

Every day I bear the weight of haulage trucks

Trafficking fellow brothers and sisters seeking the same end as I

My tiny legs knock

And are caught between the hardness of earth and

The hardness of the imposed rock above me

I hear them chant some comrades brave and outspoken

They sing “hapana chakanaka tonosangana kumastreets”

Their voices, distant seem louder than mine

Yet still fall on concrete sealed ears

Them like me the ant beneath the tar

Are on different sides of the road yet seeking the same end

Wings to carry our voices to that place called independence avenue.

By Batsirai E Chigama  ( Zimbabwe )

Photo credits :  www.meetmeinzimbabwe.blogspot.com

The seed....

When I glance at your face the moon rises
In my chest leaving me almost breathless
The feeling is a priceless like you the exquisite
Chocolate-brown pearl with glitters of gold

The magic of shooting stars in your eyes
Paves a translucent path to your soul
Kisses of bliss from your sweet soft lips
Uncage infinite butterflies in my belly
I can barely comprehend this beauty

Heavens gave birth to you on this earth
I see angelic elegance embodied in you
Your smile sends my train of thought
Above the clouds where we cuddle
In the elastic arms of the moon

Rainbow clothed, embraced by warm hands
Of the Sun, blissfully teeming with excitement
This moment is serene and filled with utmost
Reverence like Angels bowing at God's feet

To have my ears massaged by the wind
With words immaculately fused with melodies
Of humming birds telling me to nourish
This seed of love in you.I love you

By Mpoba Monyeke  (Lesotho)

first published 2012 0n the blog  www.sechabalb.wordpress.com

photo credits:"love story" by  Bob Gosani (South Africa)

Memories

My poem to you.
And things got worse
I wished to love
she wished to be free
and so lies were said
trust was lost
friendships crumbled
all that she built she destroyed
frankly, no one cared
but deep in me
i still did
so when all these were bound by time
frozen, never to be thwarted
memories lingered
memories of what might have  been
that never became.
Of broken dreams,
of love lost
these memories
those moments
those flashbacks
still haunt me.


By Pardon Gwara ( Zimbabwe )










photo source.  www.percytours.com

Smiling again....

I keep seeing distorted pictures of my past
I look away and pretend not to see
Nevertheless the mirror facing me shows me these pictures anyway
So I look subconsciously.

Your love reminds me that I can replace these pictures
As these are not the only pictures I have,
I have other pictures from my past
The ones from my innocence where it all began
I smile as I consciously look at these pictures of my innocent past and
Realize that my innocence knows no pride!

My innocence knows that;
Fear is harmless,
It’s ok to try and try again,
When in pain-I will be comforted to feel like smiling again!
My innocence knows not how to; hold grudges, envy nor resent,
As the Child in me knows how to ask for what she wants,
‘Cos her loving Dad will give her whatever she wants,
‘Cos He loves her too much and she is spoiled.
The Child in me knows that even if He doesn’t give me what I want
at times-- I can always throw tantrums and sometimes-- I can get my way and
other times-- I cannot get my way and those times-- I can cry and pretend to be sad,' Cos of knowing that He loves me too much,
that He can quickly find something else to give me nicer than the one I asked for,
for He always wants to make me to feel like smiling again!

ByTshepi Nhlapho   (Botswana ) 

pic "innocence"  by Annick Laita from south Africa

Queen of Spades

When the church bells toll,
I dream I'll tap my feet,
So no one hears the howl
Germinating from my
heartbeat,
I'll await our kiss of unity,
At the end of the aisle,
I'd have waited an eternity,
But it will be worthwhile
We'll count the stars
together-
All the hairs on our heads,
In you my children have a mother,
And I- a queen of spades


By Isunge Mwangase  ( Zambia )
pic source www.speroforum.com

First Rains....

Last night the first rains fells 

Last night, God's grace I felt 

The manifestation of a new hope 

Along with the promise of a fruitful season. 

I watched as the first rains fell last night 

I watched in the dark as the dry earth cried tears 

Beautiful tears, that brought back life, 

As each droplet fell from the open sky 

As each droplet of faith percolated into the ground... 

Last night I watched as the first rains fell.

By Ernest Mackina     ( Zimbabwe )

first published on  http://www.mackinaernest54.blogspot.com/ 

Bitter love......

She whispered to the silent night
the beast that swallowed her day
left her no light, but a violent fright
an unpleasant sight
it would be
she thought
how useless her plight
would be
she fought, plenty
with all her might

an ocean she cried
to caution, she tried
her notions he fried

she is now, in fear of da dark
she frowns with each dog's bark

once she was,,, full of life
once she was fooled by lies
once she thought jewels were nice
it was milleniums ago
now jewels bruise her eyes

as pitch as the Arabian nights was her room
once upon a time, before her soul was overwhelmed by doom
she would navigate the waters of time with her groom
and he would plough seeds in her heart, suck out pollen so she can blossom into a sexy wild flower and then into passionate rose she would bloom
but with chlorophyll removed from her nucleus, those colours radiates no more hope, but gloom

how bitter-sweet that her pillow is playin her tunes like a violin, while she sings her grief away in a camourflaged rage
once her life story read like one of those "women and success" magazine, arousing interest of magnitude to the reader's eye with every page
all she has hanging on the walls of her tattered soul, are broken dreams, and an intense longing to have what she calls "just flesh and bones", packed, locked in solitary, something like a cage

is she mad that the after life is what she craves
she wondered
that she sought means to life beyond the graves
she pondered

into her beauty which, is evident fades away
she was,,, in her days,, a cuty-cuty-chicken, with a tail to sway
all she wish for now is to lend a boat, jump into sea,,,,, and then sail away

to a place where only broken souls go
its a place where they say fallen souls go

typical her
investing in a company which she had taken its projections at face-value
physical her
depending on a company which had taken her weakness into a play-venue

play venue
and play venue she was, to this actor
who played all kinds of scenes on her, amazing race, friends like this,
and fear factor
she was an enthusiastic student, and he was a mean lecture
so its his turn to learn the hard way, that knowledge he would sadly obtain in this letter

so she thought, and deeply so,,
to take a smoke before she embarks on a quest
as she thought, deeply so,,
while tying her neck with a rope,
kicked the chair,,,,,,,, and then,,,,
choked to death...

 By Pheello Michael Rasello  *Tcap Rasello*   ( South Africa )

Object of my affection...

On my window,bewildered,concerned

burning inside like the fiery furnace of Nebuchadnezzar.

Wondering in mind,wandering in my world,

weary about your rendezvous,

sweet consignment to your floozy,

while I'm here all alone,

alone in my loneliness,alone in miserable serenity,

I fear this might be for infinity,

being a miser scoops away my dignity...

Why and why,

object of my affection,

the treasure no pirate could ever find,

gold and diamonds of my place of love,

why have you thus retreated,

fled into her sultry and luring sheets,

cajoled into her legs that spread so widely,

but refuse to spread the gospel of morality.

Have my looks faded away that much,

like the sands of the Namib that wilt and wither,

the leaves that die into the oblivious hands off the summer dry spells,

have I lost all the looks you admired in my prime,

the looks that rose more than your temperatures when we touched,

the looks that sealed your deals in the extravagant spots,

with your business adversaries and folk,

the looks that gave you the envied spot on  the coveted luckiest husband on Earth,

the looks that made you...

Object of my affection,

I ponder these thoughts that have deprived me of good health,

essential well being,

well enough to battle other trivial matters of being alive.

I give respect to the less dignified of my kind,

ambitious in taking what does not belong to them,

with perky breasts,plump dairy bosoms,

vibrant cheap lipstick that cries take me home to your marital bed.

I respect them for daring,

doing the nasty,making it seem like child-play,

I in my extreme opposite of sobriety,

could never attempt doing such...

Wherever you may be,object off my affection,

back in one piece,or in tatters,

you will find me in our bed,

waiting though wailing,

with my band on because,

I vowed to be your better half,

till time stands still,

or death us willingly do part...

By Alex Nyasha Dube  ( Zimbabwe )