WINNIE MADIKIZELA-MANDELA – MOTHER OF AFRICA

Sweet songs often tell stories of sorrow,
Of love lost, of trials, of Golgotha, of tyranny’s arrow;
In clime clement and kind every hand is valuable,
But it’s tempest that nominates the invaluable.

As Nile’s turgid waters let history’s tenor overflow its banks
For those mothers – of which Winnie is first – that guided our steps
Thro’ the slippery stairs of Mount Oppression
Until we stood on the rooftop of liberation.

Of the goddesses of thunder and lightning
I know but one that never ceased its flaming lightning
Until Apartheid’s boom and doom, bloom and gloom
Released from their lethal jaws a great dream.

From Cape to Cairo her gutsy womb bore justice –
Her trumpet rose high against Jericho;
And in all cities, townships and hamlets
She wore and bore the Amazon’s sword and salvo.

Being of red petals and thorny stem
She still treads on calm waters and storm –
Gauges a due cup to every oesophagus –
And for freedom’s sake travels the deep and the space.

Nomzamo, and she has trials seen – the vigilant tongue of this age!
You who awoke this age to rage against a canine cage –
Castrated with scalpel the fertility of supremacy,
And set loose fresh waters of humanity.

O still steely stainless sword! You slew the restless slumber
That crowned obeisance our perennial ruler;
Africa – let’s slay ingratitude holding hostage our age,
And chant this Africa’s mother’s courage – able in every age.

Chidozie Ejimadu (Nigeria) 
For more of this beautiful poetry email: ejidozie@gmail.com

The Eagle flies...

Its time is nigh, the curtain call is due,
Flapping its mighty and colourful wings,
rising swiftly to the occasion, it is summoned.
The eagle flies.
Free from the snares of its catcher.

On its head a halo,
a crown not of this world,
illuminating its path,
It flutters and flees
into the wispy and dreamy clouds.
Surging through winding swirls of air,
in its tough talons;
dangling a string that once was...

Seraphims and Cherubims sing in heaven,
singing the song you and I heard in yesteryear.
They await the arrival of one of their kind,
The eagle flies, serenity it will find...

By Alex Nyasha Dube (Zimbabwe)

The Comedy In Africa

You say Africa must “stand –up” but we’re already into comedy, Conglomerates laughing to the banks while we suffer horribly, The police are corrupt like a floppy disc with bad sectors, A sitcom indeed, who are the main actors, At first they preach “elect us, elect us,” Win seats then turn around and neglect us, Long speeches about unity can never connect us, Nepotism on the ground will continue to break-us, Un-manifested manifestos just a lying prospectus, Get victimized by the people who’re meant to protect us, Now NGO’s are in schools distributing protectors, I also curse machinations and foreign detractors, We can make our own decisions they gotta respect-us, It takes courage to write a poem with these critical factors, In a continent where bullets catch you saying these matters, They will send me to sleep on a beautiful mattress, Because I questioned why they’re are spending so reckless, Because my salary is worth half their mistresses necklace, Just give me what I need then maybe I’d nag-less, Then maybe we’d be cool and there wouldn't be burglars, You don’t live where I live, you have nannies and butlers, I only free my mind through these lyrical battles, My mind has to speak, before it calms and settles, But this really is a comedy, I started to chuckle.

By Michael Mupotaringa (Zimbabwe)

More of his work visit- http://www.mcpotar.com/poetry

Change will come...

Before the cock cackles and crows thrice,
Change will come and hope suffice! 
Like smoke billowing and filling the air,
War then love will leave all things fair.

They will see their reign vanish like mist,
And from their lawlessness desist. 
From us royals emerge when theirs is due,
They will elude the heat, so does the dew!

But I stand still and sturdy hitherto 
My words long lost and overdue. 
They will rise up high like leaven bread
And anarchy incited and hostility bred.

The wind will be dusty and bear much pain,
Winnowing the chaff, grooming the grain. 
The task will be fruitful before mundane,
Times will be different, and all things sane...

By Alex Nyasha Dube (Zimbabwe)

Umhlaba uyahlaba (The world is a pain-filled place)

To all the people of my generation
Raising children
And helping raise nieces and nephews
And other little ones
Please tell the children the truth
*Umhlaba uyahlaba.

Love them. Protect them.
But please don’t end your lectures at,
“Listen to me:
You’ll work hard and pray everyday
And get married and live happily ever after.”

Life is hard. Even for the ‘regular do-gooders.’
Life brings the unexpected. It’s full of surprises.
Some of them unpleasant.
But don’t tell them that if they behave well
Life will be good to them.
That’s just not true.

It’s the virtuous thing to do. It’s the honorable thing to do.
It’s what must be done.
But, no. Being good does not lead to perpetual happiness.
Really, perhaps it’s not at all for our own joy. But for others.

Please teach them resilience,
Where you would have read them fairy-tales
Teach them ambition, instead of to live in a dream world
Teach them to love stubbornly
Even in the face of loneliness, fear,
rejection, segregation, the unknown, the unfathomable,
the incomprehensible, the unaccepted, the unacceptable
-when they stand to gain nothing but pain, included.

Read them myths, maybe. Of overcoming the impossible.
Then tell them that someone somewhere in the world
Made that myth reality
Because that would be the truth.
Tell them you are telling them
What you are telling them
Not so that they expect hardship and anguish
But that they breathe with complete abandon
and happen to be prepared when the terrible comes.

For the love of truth and honesty that may hurt but builds,
Please tell the children.

*Ndebele phrase meaning, ‘The world is a pain-filled place.’

By Tebogo G.H Ndlovu (Zimbabwe)

Picture Source : www.facebook.com/jadiliafrika

Come home Father...

Come back Father,
come home to love me.
Lift me in your strong and firm hands,
throw me up high,
hoist me above where the sun sits,
where such is the stature of your affection,
poised and robust.

Rise and awake from your lowly sleep,
where you slumber and slobber
in your unperturbed rest.
Dreaming the deferred, 
Waiting for the chiming of the trumpet,
to mark the coming of the unknown. 
But I implore you; be kind enough,
awake and love me,
where you left me lost and searching...

Come back Father,
where my love stands filial and loyal
and see me prosper.
My future yonder,my success is nigh. 
All awaits your return.

Return to me,
to be my harness and strength,
as I skate on thin ice,
to face the most tumultuous of all storms.
In the wake of the cold and gloomy nights:
give me comfort,give me warmth,
so I may be kept safe,
with your discerning wisdom.

Like vigorous children running up a hill
my hope fades away into the horizon.
My days are dark,they see no light.
Your light. Your vision. Your vigilance.

Come back Father,
and tuck me to bed,kiss my forehead,
I will no longer be sad.
Come home to me,
where I humbly hum the hymn of he,
Who vowed to bring you back to me.

Come back to love me..

By Alex Nyasha Dube (Zimbabwe)

Picture source- www.facebook.com/JadiliAfrika

WHAT YOU ARE TO ME...

You bring unimaginable joy to me

A spark of hope you bring to my world

A world hitherto sullen and solitary

When you talk, you address the fears of my mind

You sooth my aching soul with your honey-filled melodies

My heart finds a shelter in you, never to depart no more

In you I find my being, you bring back long forgotten memories

Memories likened to the titanic kind of love

How I yearn for your telepathic caresses

My oasis in the desert have you become

It is true we taste darkness, so we can appreciate day

Like a sweet scented petal, you attracted many insects

From far and near they sought your love and attention

Yellow, Indian, Hispanic, Asian, white they did come

Yet you chose me, an African man

Trusted the oceans when it was still

When it became stormy with its accompanying uncertainties,

You foresaw the end of the tempest and built your nest

I am married to your embraces forever

Through thick and thin, I will remain true

In life’s ups and downs, I will be there

Till your mortal remains is lowered beneath

I will remain yours truly and faithfully

I love you my love, I love you.                                                                                           

By Michael Dale-Asiedu (Ghana)

Photo credits : www.facebook.com/jadiliafrika

Her Iron Man

Agnes wasn’t easily fooled

By roses and confessions of love

Her beauty and the definition of “fact”

She had computed and found equal

So surprise stayed away

When nervous young men

Vied for her heart

And yet she came to me

One ordinary lunch break

No time for greetings

She dived into narration.

‘I hadn’t seen him in aeons

And then there he was!

Settled on a park bench

When the summer sun hit his cream skin

At just the right angle

It seemed that his pitch black hair

Hinted a shy blue

As he turned his head

There was a wise look in his eyes

And his gestures were humble but sure

Oxygen fled when he caught me transfixed

There was a grin plus a nod as he rose to his feet

A bashful child could easily shine

Aside my nervous form!

There was heat when he gripped my hand

A customary “hello” in order

But none issued…’

I listened in fascination

More than as a courtesy

Agnes’ chocolate skin

Glowed in these significant moments

Excitement prevailed in her tone

Her hands motioned for emphasis

Her eyes claimed the prize however:

I witnessed a dimension of emotion

I had never seen before in those eyes.

He was the victor

In the male species’ quest

For The Affection of Agnes Mathe

She had told me about him before

And the classic way in which they met

He was the librarian 

And she was the bookworm

The intellectual claimed the belle

Such was her only love

Her Iron Man from adolescence

She rotated her wrist

Helping the diamond to catch the light

He was no longer

Just her childhood Iron Man.

By Tebogo G.H Ndlovu (Zimbabwean)

First Published in Humans & Quills

Photo: www.facebook.com/jadiliafrica

I love her

When its cold outside
You make me warm inside
I pray that you don`t take long to decide
To take me as I am
For in you my heart resides

Love me...
I will be your disciple
Care for me...
I will be the shepherd of your soul
Like Paul i will religiously die for you
kiss me...
I will be your soul provider
Hold my hand ...
I will hold on to our love
Walk with me ...
We will create history.

By Njabulo Moyo  (Zimbabwe)

First published on http://www.njabulomoyo.blogspot.com/

Photo credits: Daniel Krieger

South African woman

Woman of her own
independent
meaning her alone
intelligent and relevant
as always shown

She identify herself
no dom pass needed
she can feed, take care, even give birth
no bass needed
she took to the union building, some with a child on her back
showing us how we need her

Carried you for nine months
carries a nation for 12 months
still she gets beaten
by this drunkard, the useless

her pain is melody
selling her body to her fathers to keep her siblings breathing
later she gets eaten
after being hunted by a virus that’s unforgiving
proving birth to death is an HI-Virgin

beaten by the rays of the sun
blacken just to get maize for her son
who thank her with a diploma in criminal science
later rapes her and kills her just to sell her phone for his drugs
goes to jail and released after months

That is an african woman

By Dloze Crack pack Matooane (South Africa)

Photo credits: www.facebook.com/jadiliafrika

BACK HERE AGAIN

I'm back here again
Where I left the chemical on the wall
After pitching a tent on the highway sideway
I'm virtually unknown and a legacy is restored
Taps now preside over boreholes
And houses have replaced tents
As the red cross stands on a hill
Side by side religious buildings of Italian origin

Obscured life manifests behind a school
Revealing a lost civilization of a bye gone era
High terrain stands all around
Bisected only by a highway and river
Supported vegetation withstands the simmering heat
As the sun manufacturers anthracite
For handpicking purposes close by......

By Kelvin Mpofu ( Zimbabwe)

 Photo credits: www.google.com/going-home-africa

Stolen innocence (A 3-part series)

(BROKEN)
I can't express my torment 
every thought i fear
the story i hold has taken years to unfold
i can't change what i know isolated and paranoid.
His hand covering my mouth as i scream for help
His tongue on my chest
you can imagine the rest,i was only 8years old,so innocent,pure and sweet
why did he feel the need to cause me such unbearable pain?
Pinning defenceless me little me to the ground,he tore my pink little gipsy skirt,
forcing his way in to my purity,i felt a sharp pain between my quivering tiny legs,i could feel this demon pushing into my stomach
i prayed for a miracle
i wanted the pain to go away,then suddenly it all stopped
i looked up to realise the torture was over he had fled 
laying there naked in my own blood i realised it was not over it was just the beginning...
(BROKEN)

PART 2:
(DISTURBIA)
Years have passed i have no tears left to cry
ive grown up a mess
teachers date me
my parents hate me
am always in a fight 
i can't do nothing right
i met a boy who i thought had done the imposible "gaining my trust" shared my story with him only to realise he only wanted my Ass
i close my eyes and go back to that fateful day 
Raging i carve my wrist with a knife blood dripping on my thigh
the sight of blood makes me smile 
imagining your body drenched in it feels me like a high
pictures of blood flash in my head wishing you never come back to mess up my life
i think back to all the pain and all i want is your colden heart to stop in its beats
i dance to the rhythm your heart used to beat knowing your heart beats no more. 
DISTURBIA

PART 3:
(RECOVERY)
I turned 21 
its just a day i tell myself but deep inside i know i want it to be so much more something different 
without the darkness 
without the self loathing 
i dont want to be the broken hearted girl anymore
am tired of being mistreated,misplaced,misunderstood 
i want a piece of mind,i want to smile for the right reasons,
i want to know love,how it feels like to give love and get it in return
i want a fairytale ending 
take my hand and be my guide to 
RECOVERY.

By Noriah Ngandu (Zambia)

picture source: www.google.com/rape

My heart is one with Africa's

• 

  Perhaps my heart is one with Africa's and just as delicate an object as its wildlife at night, In the exuberant loudness of silence, I feel the eradicated grounds shake and see polluted minds fight, because poverty is the reason for all the violence

  My heart beats with Africa's and my soul bleeds, with each passing spirit of its AIDS victims running to heaven to forget earth's painful deeds, and like one of the forgotten heroes of history, in luminous places, my face glows and reflects all colours of Africa's races

  From the falls of Victoria to the top of the Drankensberg mountains, From the deserted deserts of the Sahara to the never weeping skies of the Kalahari, From the cradle of humankind known as the Magaliesberg mountains to the British crown colony known then as the Bechuanaland, my footprints are marked as rare diamonds on Africa's soils

  Because my heart is one with Africa's the mere blood flowing in my veins, sacred like the waters flowing in Africa's streams, and with each sunset at dawn I see Africa's golden smile of unity in my dreams, like its dried out open fields where the green grass gets destroyed by fire, and shepherds swains have to run for their lives, with each tear drop falling to the ground, just like Africa peace will be my endless desire

  And like Satan, one of the fallen angels who used to sit beside God, I used to be filled with shame every time I thought of Africa but now in joy I trot, with endless pride every time I hear in an echo the name of Africa and with each tick and tock of the inevitable passing time, for generations to come my heart will be bonded and one with Africa's and proof being this unforgettable, perpetual rhyme.

  By Rochester Tebogo Letwaba (South Africa )

  picture: www.facebook.com/afrofutures.

MY AHA MOMENTS

My aha moments are not the extraordinary things in my life.

Rather they are the simple things suddenly came alive in my heart.

My aha moments was and is when you sing melodies of love, peace and

beauty into my ears. These  things  lure  me to  sleep   and  awaken  me

in the  mornings.

My aha  moments   was   when  I   suddenly   realized   that   you  had

been  standing  there all alone waiting for me to look into  your  eyes

and smiled. And  when I did …you  had had  a  smile  smeared on

your  face that  said  “I  would never  leave  you  alone.”

And so… my  love , the  kind  of  love   you  shower  on  my  soul  has healed my failing heart. even  unto my death  I know you’ll still be standing by with  that smile again saying “am waiting, hurry back home.”

My aha moments was when I found you and finally accepted you in my heart.

God, you are my aha moments!

By Portia Dery ( Ghana) 

picture source: www.facebook.com/afrofuture

I MET BEAUTY

Sauntering about in a tiny county
A single lad welled with curiosity
Approaching far-off was my would-be majesty
Dropped down from a heavenly dynasty
I met beauty

The telepathy in her movement
As if predestined from the firmament
Decorated in finest Nubian ornament
Paragon of beauty in a distant environment
I met beauty

Remembering the princess’ story
In its dense dazzling glory
With intermittent scenes of gory
Assuredly bidding her not to worry
I met beauty

Her oratory was remarkable
Her outlines were noticeable
Her contour-shaped figure was impeccable
To the goddess of beauty only is she comparable
I met beauty
I met beauty in all her contagious sweetness
Pellets of pearls fall from her lip’s fullness
Her deep discernment portrays her uniqueness
Her default rendition of love emblazons her kindness
I met beauty.


By Michael Dale-Asiedu ( Ghana)
photo credits: wakoye tv

In the melting pot of your words - The man and his habit

Hide the sun a few more hours
We have much sinning to do
Under the blanket of night,
Rain of liquor, harsh smoke
Halo on the angels of night,
Embrace me in your wings
'Til the jealous sun reveals
The fiend beneath the mask!
Green god, purchase of heaven,
Guide me to the sweetness of Eden
Between her sweating thighs this Eve.

Oh Sweet dancing Maria!

Green god grant me this prayer:
May tomorrow never come!

Meanwhile,
One man downs a beer quick
Down Main Street
Bright lit street
Red light district
Instantaneous instinct
One man romps and skips
Down a bright lit city street
Spic 'n span suit
Short 'n shiny skirt
Friday now speaks
Down Main Street

Meanwhile,
Hope stands still
Down Home Street
One woman 
Waits 'til
Starved kids sit still
Countdown time
Daddy will be home soon
Six spoons,
Wife knows she now needs food
Time moves slow now
And hunger pangs begin to grow...

That is the feeling.
When we relax with a couple of beers... just chilling.
Ladies, they target ching ching.
Living the life of prostitute for free sips.
Tired of life, her pains sting deep.
And me buying booze for her for a free meal.
A table full of them other men would have felt the same.
She is my plate.
Tomorrow will be the same; sex, but not me again.
Maybe James or Jake.
Boet madlisa. 
Kea reka keamo ghidlisa.
Give her fully so she could forget Blake.
And how he gave her HIV/AIDS.

By Philani Nyoni, Mbonisi Ncube, 'Dloze Matooane' (South Africa and Zimbabwe)

picture source: Scribbled Notes Facebook page