Deathbed Confessions ........

As I lie here paralyzed by this disease that's claiming my life.
Clasping on to the hand of the woman who for the last forty years I've called my wife.
Poker faced I look into her eyes
Tears well up as I think of all the lies.
Through each one we stood by each other
This is not the love I was told of by my mother.
Yet I met this woman when I was a boy
My childhood sweetheart who brought me such joy.
The love of my life who said I'm her one and only
Death would rob us of this bliss And leave her lonely...

When she was twenty-four I was twenty-five
That’s when we wed the bliss we shared made me know I was alive
When she was thirty-three I was thirty-four
Five children she had bore
Could any man ask for more?

Our lives revolved around our family
Our last child whose name is Emily
Has graduated from university
And now faces the prospect of life in the city
We gave them all the best money could buy
And taught them the all values and virtues to live by:
Honesty, integrity, transparency, truth and courage.

How can I look them each in the eye when I've been so dishonest
The double life I've lived as I built this love-nest
The smokescreens and facade that have filled our home
The lies and deceit are more than the plot to kill Caesar in Rome.
How can I tell them when I know this will destroy us
Maybe I should take it to my grave and not kick up a fuss

The six souls I love with all my heart
Are about to discover a truth that will tear us apart
I cannot believe I find myself in this predicament
My confession will leave such disenchantment
You see I've known all along
In this happy septet I'm the one who doesn't belong
I could have said
I should have said
I would have said
But I may have lost her if did
So I was forced to put it under a lid
How could I open Pandora’s box
And break the heart of one with such lovely locks
You see when it comes to reproduction I am like an ox
A debilitating disease in my youth left me unable produce an heir
This truth leaves a foul stench in the air
Who then is the father of these five?

By Mandlenkosi Nkomo  ( Zimbabwe )

#First published on http://poetrybulawayo.blogspot.com/2012/07/deathbed-confessions-by-mandla-nkomo.html?spref=fb

photo credits -www.aidsaction.net

The setting sun...

The sun set today
with the sorrows of the day
born of many a year
of repeated oppression
and acceptance that, maybe,
nature ordained it so
and that who are they
to question the mysteries of creation.

Today the sun set, 
as it hath done on days gone
sinking with the last hope
of the waiting wife
as her husband approaches
with a weary heart
drenched in sadness
nothing has ever changed
nothing ever will, so he thinks, 

his pockets long to be filled, not with his cracked hands,
that bear so many years of suffering;
a living testimony of exploitation
he searches in his mind
tormented by the look on his children's faces
because that look,
that wordless sentence,
has a way of breaking his heart.

Today the sun set
slowly, taking away the pain
to give way to the long night
where the seductive snakes lie
in wait of their weak prey
for if their pockets become partially filled
with dues from a month gone
they search.....
longing to quench their accumulated thirst
in loud music
and insipid wines
to lay in the bossoms of strange women
and lose all there is to them

so when the last rays kissed the earth
in their weakness, their strength grew
to devour them,
to rob them of their selves

Today the sun set
oblivious of the pain of the old man,
and his patient wife
and the look on the children's faces
incognizant of the life of the young man,
whose life is dedicated to death;
where he beds perfumed women
and is awarded a lifetime of sickness
the sun just set
to bring back fresh pains
as it starts another month

By Pardon Gwara ( Zimbabwe  )

photo credits- google.com

His words....

# This piece is a dedication to all  women who are in abusive marriages and those who have taken their lives because of abuse.

I sit on our matrimonial bed
Symbol of our marital bliss
Of romantic nights we have shared
I pick up the wedding photo on my bedside
Tears trickle down my cheeks uncontrolled like November rain
Oh Lord I can't bear the pain
As I Reminisce on that our happy day and the vows he said
The picture of our happiness is played in my mind again and again.
To love unconditionally he pledged,
Till death do us a part he declared.

I look at myself in the mirror
I look pale and wasted,emaciated by his emotional reign of terror.
Tears well up in my eyes
Am confused ,ask myself all the what and whys
What have I really done to deserve this on my life?
I'v been nothing but a loyal spouse his loving wife
But like poison he has made it his daily task to slowly and painfully end my life.

My blood shot eyes,disfurged face tell a tale of their own
Emotional scars left by this beast
Confidence lost from his barbed wire words that cut at the very deep parts of my heart
Bitter words that are corrosive and unpalatable to the ear
Words that tear the heart apart 
Deep words that leave permanent scars of pain like burnt cigarette marks on a ashtray
He doesn't love me anymore bt I'll stay
I just can't abandon him,we have spent many years together
he will change I hope, I'll pray.

Is this the man I married that wishes me dead and buried.
The very man who crucifies me daily for being barren.
His words a crown of thorns.
Is this my prince charming that has turned back into a beast without warning,
Is this th man once upon a time seranaded me with sweet nothings,
His words like honey were a delicacy to my ear
Who now mercilessly butchers me
His very presence I now fear
Lucifer personified takes every moment to tell me of those painful,cancerous words that are resurrected within me every time I think of them
Is this the man my youth my beauty my most coveted virginity I sacrificed to give
Who bashes me like a tsotsi who's been caught in the very act of stealing ,
All because you my Lord have denied me the fruits of my womb
God No! I refuse to believe

I sit up straight on our matrimonial bed
Symbol of our matrimonial bliss I have already said
Suicide note on our bed
I open my bottle of rat poison and I take a swig
I lie beautifully on our bed
This life will soon end,who cares,
am tired but for to long I have bled and noone has ever cared.
Goodbye my prince charming,remember the good times we have shared.
I black out.

By Chris Chakwana ( Zimbabwe )

picture source; www.huffingtonpost.com

Men Are Like Dresses .....

When I was five, I watched a seamstress make me a dress

Men are like dresses, on you put the best, she said

I’m measuring its size, using you to test

I watched her work on a fashion portrait for me

Of material she took her time choosing the best quality

She took her time making the best fit

She locked eyes on the strings and drew them to her bosom

She laid the silk and velvet swabs on her breasts

And as the material lay breathless on her chest

She evened out a crease, and sealed a seam

The material was an acolyte under her caress

Manipulated to any shape and feel she desired

With her divine skill it became what she aspired

A shift dress, an empire waist baby doll dress, or a little black dress

When I was five, I watched a seamstress make me a dress

Men are like dresses, on you put the best, she said

Some men are like an empire waist baby doll dress that flares at the bottom

Eager to hug the bust line, the wrong cut can suffocate the heart

Whichever way you allow the wind to blow it between your legs it’ll start

With a peek, then a touch, it’ll even dance before it flares away

Some men are like peplum shift dresses

They leave something to the imagination as they hide your flaws

You’ll soon outgrow them; don’t fret when they fall short and become too small

Everything ends, even dresses can’t help being finite

But some men are like Little Black Dresses

Full of class and simple sense, it’s loved by your mammas

Every girl should have at least one for its timelessness

It lets a woman exude beautiful power and loves her forever

When I was five, I watched a seamstress make me a dress

Men are like dresses, on you put the best, she said.

By Andiswa Onke Maqutu (South Africa)

pic source : www.google.com

When all hope is lost.....

 When you reach the end of the rope
When the road is bent and blocked
Your sight becomes blurred
Your back bound and burdened
The time you are sapped of strength
When earlier you stretched and screamed
Because stress and strain
Multiplied and mounted on you
Life turned upside down
As a forty day journey or jubilation
Exchanged for a forty year sentence
The serenity and succour intended
Surrendered to the uncertainty of the season
The present blighted and blurred.
Harassed and hemmed in by gloomy past
The future holds gloom and grief
In the midst of this hopelessness
The Sun shall arise shine forth
A second chance will be provided
Thus will life blossom and boom again.


By Passy Amaraegbu  ( Nigeria ) 


picture source romzzz.deviantart.com

Amnesia of the Soul

Troubled waters, murky seas

A fjord of memories
Sunburned grasses and hills
The pleasant hue of sunshine
Hidden by gathering clouds
The sun's shadowy glance
Proclaims the coming rains
I sit transfixed
My life speeding like a hurricane
Twists and turns
A howling vortex of memories
I want to forget
I need to forget
Regrets rush in a rage of fury
The hunter is now haunted
By the screams of his former prey.


 By Damilare Maverick ( Nigeria )

photo credits: lipstickalley.com

Beautiful Distraction

As dreamy dusk kisses the dusty dawn
At the stroke of midnight
When dreams are born
I think of her
If wishes were horses
They say beggars would ride
I'd wish upon a wishing star
That this queen would be my bride

Her luscious hair crowns her head
Black as the bark of the ebony tree
She has that gentle smile
That arches from cheek to cheek
Like the bow of the crescent moon

When night falls
And the stars line up in procession
As the owl sings her doleful tune
Her silhouette isn't frail
She stands strong
Hewn from beautiful cedars

Her eyes beckon to me
"Come, young poet, come"
Yet...
She stares aloof
Oblivious of the effects of her charms
On this poor wandering soul
She's a siren
Her voice envelopes me
Like a sailor I am drawn
To the shores of her affection
Words fail me
Would I drink from her lips
The sweet nectar of love refined
Or taste the delicious pinot noir
That drips with every kiss

Who is she?
Hidden beneath the shroud
Of words and rhyme
My mysterious woman
A voluptuous vixen?
A sassy saint?
Or the girl that haunts the dreams
Of every man
The ever elusive femme fatale
I call her
My beautiful distraction...


By Damilare Maverick ( Nigeria )

picture credits: fineartamerica.com

The gathering

Dear beloved we are gathered here shivering, quivering
Standing beside the abyss, the sobbing chasm of a grave.
Sobbing, throbbing, in its eagerness
To the wailing of the gathered masses on the lonesome edge.
I shall never hear her voice calling.
The crowded ebb pushed forward to see her descent.
Farewell fair one, the harsh reality of life scraped your life.


 By Lebohang Kuenane ( Lesotho )

photo credits:  travel.nationalgeographic.com

Letter from the other side

I am that seed that was denied the chance to
grow.
That cock early morning did not crow,the fifth wheel terminated without my will.
I am the child you aborted
that child you denied the warmth of your
womb,tenderness of your breast
that child you relegated to the tomb.
But No! I refuse to rest,
because am that child whose loss you didn't grieve.
That child you denied the right to live.

Am the child you obliterated,mercilessly
annihilated,callously incinerated
am the soul who's life you separated
that child who's death you celebrated.
A product of your reckless behavior
Juvenile delinquency,"Miss know it all".
I am that sad soul you destroyed
the abortion pill you employed.
Am that being you erased,that life that can never
be replaced.

Dear mother am that child on your conscience.
Your secret yes!,but your daily torment.
Like a stain,my memory will ever be your daily pain.
Am your mental anguish,disposed of me like
rubbish you selfish being.
I am the life that could have been.

Quickly erased deprived of the right to see the
light.
Am that child who hopelessly lost his life without a
fight.
I pour out my heart as I write that which you don't
want to hear.
I refuse to rest,No!, I shan't rest till you receive
your
punishment.
I write this letter to you without fear
Yes to you mama,
this my letter from the other side.


By Chris Chakwana ( Zimbabwe )


photo source   thegrio.com  

Journey Through The Mind

Words to impress & poems to last;I....
Spit the best & cause thoughts to manifest;I...
Speak my mind & what's inside my chest.
With volcanic ideas ready to blast...

My imagination's making love to fantasy.
Through its pregnancy it experiences diversity
And gives birth through the lips of Sympathy!
I mean;
A bunch of great words,sweet melodies & harsh tones.
Mother-"shesess" flows mesmerising those coming to poetry shows,'cos to quote is what they chose.
Graffitising their minds with words of the ancient gods. As they applaud,words keep moving back & forth,shuffling their thoughts.

As they try hearing what I'm quite saying
Quite frankly,words become quite heavy
'Cos quite obviously,these are the words from a member of the Living Poets Society!
Words that cripple your consciousness with one verse & creates a mess with the second verse.
You can even guess...with the third verse;it becomes quite worse!

Just like the rhythms of Big Foot echoing the drumbeats of fear;
My words tears psycological walls apart,and yeah;
My words are heard loud & clear.
Basically,I send my sympathies to you if you cannot see that it's in my nature to moonlight my path & walk freely...poetrically!

Sometimes.....
Sometimes there are rhythmic pictures flashing through the thoughts inside.
Wondering inside my mind with no place to hide.
These are the pictures whereby the great Mona Lisa smiles. But the question still stands....
What lies behind that beautiful smile?!
Now broken pieces must be reunited to get some answers.
But the chances are slim 'cos fear glances down beyond the fences of your contact lenses.
That's where I went blank;everything went blank.
I guess the butterfly effected my thoughts
And my system was enterupted by the darkness that was attracted & my mind was disconnected ofcourse. Eventually,I woke up from a journey through an eccentuated poetic mind of Sympathy!




By Simphiwe "Sympathy" Nkabiti ( South Africa )


photo source  africaisdonesuffering.com

Move on!!!

You lack merriment and money?
Move on.
You are disturbed and disgraced?
Move on pilgrim.
You are lonely and almost lost?
Move on.
You are sick and sad?
 Move on and never give up.
You are evicted and exhausted?
Still keep moving on.You are hopeless and helpless
keep moving forward.
Sunshine must follow a downpour,
Light must conquer darkness,
Never mind the delay or denial
Move on!
I command you to move forward.


By Passy  Amaraegbu  ( Nigeria ) 


photo source best-messages.blogspot.com

If..

If thoughts could leave invoices on the face of the bearer,
then you would understand how much I think of you.
If contentment was measurable like mass on scales,
then you would understand how happier I become by just seeing you.
If you could count all the stars in the sky and multiply the number by ten,
then you would understand how my heart accelerates every minute I converse with you.
If chests were transparent, then you would see how glowing my heart is when you are next to me.
If milk supplies calcium to bones,
then your warmth supplies liveliness to my soul.
If religious devotees meditate three times a day,
the my devotion overlaps the hands of time.
If emotions could be archived,
then you would see through my eyes from the day I first saw you.
If fairies roamed the earth-space in tales,
then you parade my thoughts everyday till this present time.
If only you knew how much my heart yearns for you,
then you would know how much I love you...


By Teboho Joseph Mtabane   ( South Africa )


picture source kumekucha.blogspot.com

To Pretoria and back...

As you go to Pretoria and back, I hope you'll think of me,

just as I am thinking of you.


Think of a field where your flower blossoms,

Where the white lily blooms.

To Pretoria and back please travel safe

and dream of me before you wake,

I'll think of you with every move I make,

and I'll dream of you with every new dawn.

Come back safe,

come back to me.

Do take care as you go to Pretoria and back.





By Nala Lahru   ( Zambia )

They Came, They Saw, They Died..

 

When the tide was high

Boys came to watch the sand

That poured about the deck line;

Emotions swirl round the canon brass.

Sands could imprint our flowing Strides

And bear traces to our historic pride,

But tide erases our history,

Making us Legends that live via the Mystery.

To a story of poor taste

To them that made the poor vase

That history sips out,

Like wine from a drunkard's mouth.

By:  Erelayefa Sylvanus Adikah (Nigeria)

photo credits fredhoogervorst.com

A wonderful day

I had to go see the doctor today.

 Standing on a library ladder,

 The corner of a book

Caught my head.

 …A sore lump

 Relates the rest

Of that story.

Emerging

 Into the mid-ninety degree day,

 A sprint to

 A mid-day appointment

Left me in chance-medley.

 I arrived behindhand,

Smelly and unkempt.

 Who wants to hire

A disorganised character?

Having lost my job

 Before I even started,

 I headed home

 Head hung,

Completely ill-humored.

 The plumber came running

 Out my front door

 Drenched in precious water,

Confessing his fault.

A problem

 He aimed to fix

 He worsened.

 Now my house

 He quite flooded.

 I am a strong,

Tenacious citizen.

 I don’t complain

 I find a solution.

So I pick up the phone

 In search of my brother

 The excellent plumber

 I disagreed with

Just last week.

 “Your brother is out,”

 Or so his wife claims.

 He got a promotion;

 They are moving to LA.

 Why don’t I

 Know about this?

 “Because you two haven’t been

 On speaking terms,

Of course!”

 Suzanne quips.

She sounds

Inappropriately triumphant.

 -She never liked

Me much.

 Time to throw in

The wretched towel.

 Let’s call it

 A write-off,

 An evil 24 hours

 I say.

But incontinently

 You show up

 Donning a warm

Summer’s day smile.

 One thing

 Have I noticed.

 All that is disagreeable

 Flees whenever

 You turn the corner.

 All that is unexceptional

 Dulls when you

 Take your seat,

Next to mine.

We haven’t talked

In a pretty long while.

 “Busy, busy, busy,”

My standard excuse.

 But now

 Here you are.

 And suddenly,

 This past 24 hours

 Has been the

 Best day of my life…

By Tebogo Ndlovu  ( Zimbabwe )

 *First posted: http://tebogondlovu.wordpress.com/2012/06/27/defining-wonderful/


picture source amckiereads.tumblr.com