A homage to our lips

She was standing at the edge
A little unsure I could tell
The tips of her toes hung
Over the margin of the pavement
Curled as if clinging for dear life
A car rushed by then
So close it brushed her hemline
She didn’t jump back
Just stood at the edge
Her body immobile
Serene in the bustling metropolis
But only for a moment

The next instant delivered tension
Braced shoulders, a bitten lip
A lined forehead, clenched fists.

She turned a bit then
And magic followed suit
What caused it, a mystery
But: I smiled -with all my heart.
A foot retreated right on cue
Face brightening slightly
Shoulders mellowing
The corners of her lips rose
Forehead smooth
Fists unfolded
She nodded as if in thanks
And dissolved in the crowd.

I realized later:
I saved the day that day.
I know because she said so.
I met her shopping for birthday gifts
She silently picked out a thank you card
Extended the token in gratitude
Only then did she say:
“A smile equaled a step back
Anything else equaled a step forward.”

Only then did I realize
A smile equals an antidote
An encouragement
A sip of good wine
A favorite tune
A sweet memory
For her -a step back.
My smile matched
An obsolescence of the theory
That she was the sum of her predicaments
My smile sparked
Her refusal to be part of a tragedy,
The prevention of a young woman’s suicide,
A home without a mother
And a body without a spirit.

“So thank you.”
She was saying:
“You saved the day that day.”

By Tebogo H Ndlovu ( Zimbabwe )

Copyright © 2012 Tebogo Ndlovu

picture credits: www.google.com

If I die today.....

If I die today, 
please don't cry a lot. 
Dance and ululate.
sing the old funeral song
which has no emotion or passion

If i die today
Make it simple
No expensive cascade
No body viewing

No long speech
Just bury me
Never delay the ants' party

If i die today
I would have died
So bury it.
..........

‎[On Gaddafi]

‎Like the greens and pods will come to dust,
So shall the iron fist come to rust.
Like dawn and noon will come to dusk,

So shall the earth touch the Elephant’s tusks.
As the Spring shall cease winter’s grant;
So shall the eagle feed the ant,
What begins by fate must bear an end,
The rules are firm, they never bend.
Billows rising, empire falling,
Stench of death the hellhound howling;
Behold the giant from the sky
The midget looks him eye to eye!
The greens and pods have come to dust,
So has the iron fist met with rust.

By Philani Amadeus Nyoni ( Zimbabwe )

photo credits;www.padresteve.com

WHEN WE WERE BEAUTIFUL.....

*In loving memory of Brian. M. Chilufya

Way back then when we were beautiful,
We were as free as the droplets of rain dangling from the leaves of trees.
We were as noisy as a hailstorm;
Never feeling the pain of the pelts against our skin
Living for us was all that mattered;
Way back then.

Way back then when we were beautiful,
We were as tiny as fleas on the hair of ants
Yet we were as spirited as a bull elephant
We climbed the biggest trees,
And conquered the deepest forests,
We were not scared of getting lost because we had each other;
I was because we were,
Way back then

Way back then when we were beautiful,
Time seemed a mere drop in the ocean
Never once did we imagine anyone could guzzle it up so fast;
We often contemplated what lay on the other side of the mountain of time
Little did we realise that mountain will one day be but a small termite mound
Contemplating such seemed to be a sheer waste of time, back then.

Way back then when we were beautiful,
We drew pictures in the colourful book of life;
Oh what beautiful pictures they were!
Pictures of eternal friendships and perpetual glee
Where it’s summer every day of the year with no heartbreak, no suffering, no pain
I see you, my friend, and wish that I too may be beautiful, just like we were,
Way back then.

By Katongo Kwendakwape  ( Zambia )

picture credits: artflakes.com

Blessed is He

Blessed is He,
 who wrought,a world so beautiful,
 so our eyes may see...

 Blessed is He,
 whose tender love and care,
 stretches far beyond the Pacific sea...

 Blessed is He,
 to his realm of refuge,
 we can confidently flee...

 Blessed is He,
 whose compassion forgives,
 a thousand-fold transgressions of you and me...

 Blessed is He,
 with whose wise decisions and plans,
 I always agree...

 Blessed is He,
 whose key of liberty,
 sets my astray soul free...

 Blessed is He,
 no matter how filthy and sordid my heart may be,
 will forever value me to be of the highest degree...

By Alex Nyasha Dube ( Zimbabwe )

Art work credits : Zaire Jesus by unknown artist

Cristo Redentor (Christ Redeemer)

 Cristo Redentor, 
 save us from this dim, 
 bishops, 
 priests 
 and pastors doubt what they preach themselves, 
 for their acts and 
 deeds are no holier to digest, 
 churches turned to politics, 
 tabloids believed more than the bible itself, 
 Cristo Redentor save us from this dim.


 churches catch diarrhoea, 
 drunk houses turn religious, 
 killing loses the sin in it, 
 fathers impregnate daughters, 
 mothers fornicate with sons, 
 elderly curse the young, 
 life on earth slowly turn to life on mars, 
 Cristo Redentor, 
 save us from this dim.

 10 commandments now seem like fairy tales, 
 for now man has rights and laws to abide by, 
 drunkards breath more life than men in churches, 
 for now man believe in their pastors, 
 prophets and popes, 
 more than they believe in God, 
 Cristo Redentor save us from this wrath.

 They claim to know God and yet leading a way to Lucifer’s hut, 
 for their sins manifest more than their preaching, 
 exorcise day in and day out, 
 is it sorcery or just hypnotism? 
 Cristo Redentor, 
 save us from this dim

By Teboho Joseph Mtabane   ( South Africa )

Photo credits;  madamenoire.com

Half past love......

Moments stolen like the wink during lectures-
to caramel delights under your desk. 
The touches in hidden places hurried, 

one-eyed kisses never lingering:
the harangue of sleepless nights .

You say time, like hearts have hands
to hold their breath for an hour and a half
of Freud's id.
The tick of corridor conversation in Morse code.
Da Vinci wall posts no comments.Time, you say: You and noone else likes this.

Afrodisia
nubile slyphe of myriad graces,
I suffocate at your hand, am unfriended
by time.
I wrestle my super-ego in Tyson bouts ,
Tyson bites to gossip's ears dear you fear
her tongue lashes of hostel idleness,
the harangue of your sleepless nights

The allure of a silken touch to parted thighs
caramel kisses in dark alleys, one eyed
On the look out for that shooting star 
When we no longer have to lie about us: 

My wish.

By Mncedisi Malinga (Zimbabwe)

picture source:madamenoire.com

AND SO I WRITE…

And so I write…
Because writing is all I do

When nothing else can make me see
Beyond today’s damp dew.
When nothing else but words makes sense,
Not words from a dictionary,
But words so intense.
They flow not from pages,
But from within the dense,
This dense ruffled up paper,
That has seen better days
Left thin like a vapor.
You think you can swim,
Try drowning under my burden,
That only ink has bothered to lift,
Or rather to shift.
Laid down on a surface once pure,
Made impure by my pain,
Scratched by hands turned insane.
And so I write…
Hoping that one day my words may fly,
From the depths of my gloom,
To the sky like trapped fireflies,
That they carry with them a piece of my doom.
But until the day I can sit amongst stars,
On my way to mars, strumming guitars…
I WRITE! 

By Rutendo R Chabikwa (Zimbabwe)

photo credits;

descude.blogspot.com 

fiirst published on http://rutendochabikwa.wordpress.com

He was once a village boy.......

Tired of life in the village he left 
In search of greener pastures
I’ll make something of myself he promised

Please guide him, they prayed
So Off he went to the city in search of a job
Tall buildings, numerous cars
No need to wait to see that weekly bus
No grocery shop but big supermarkets, no bottle store but classy beautiful bars
Confused by the bright city lights, the concrete jungle tamed him
Being a village boy he was caught up in the excitement
Lot his morals at the spur of a moment
Corrupted by all the juvenile delinquency, social deviancy
Mixed with pick pockets and tsotsi’s of Johannesburg
Fell In the arms of loose women, their sexuality sold at a cost
God help this poor child his immorality you must purge
Lost in the whirl wind of excitement, all innocence lost
Long forgotten he once was an innocent village boy.

By Chris Chakwana ( Zimbabwe)

photo credits: chris chaks