February 19, 2016 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION


Catherine Magodo-Mutukwa



Not Just Words



If mine are just words

crafted and curved from

consciousness that lacks

understanding and depth,

musically stimulating,

stringed together to amuse

in rhythm and flow,


then I have failed.


If mine are just words

beautifully presented like

morning dew,

captivating, an eyeful

yet lack permanency

a strike from incalescence,

and fail to stir emotion in the

hearts of many,


then I have failed


Mine is a calling not a passion

to infuse words with

sensitivity and empathy

to appease the cries of those

that grieve, the misfortunes

thrust upon their lives unwillingly.








On Her Death-Bed



Sit me next to her,

beneath the same dark cloud

that hovers and fulminates

grey and gloom


Let me feel the pain and aches

of weary bones in a putrid soul

drench me in echoes of groans

and moans

of a body that writhes and twists

in violent jerks

rejecting the very life pined over

and prayed for


The windows to her being

a misty-haze, downcast

extirpating what zeal is left

forever longing for that one day

when feeling will be extrinsic


They huddle beside her, craving

her touch

once warm and soothing now

flaccid and frosty

as if they too, sense their mother’s

demise creeping nearer to thee

savoring each moment as if it were



The hushed whispers of a voice


tormented by watchful eyes of thy

fruit of the womb

Pleading and begging for her

perpetual breath lest they be



Let me wail with her

when she weeps for her children

when she curses the past and

admonishes the future, depriving

her, her heart’s importune

allow me to impale her clattered


pick through her thoughts to

understand and not judge


On her death-bed, discouraged

she waits,

only fate can take away…








From Thy Heart To You



I write from the heart

because I want to speak

to the heart,

to tell it of the heaviness

that’s mounted on its


to let it know of the hate

that rages and consumes

that has become the world


I too walked in shoes

big and small

I have seen through the

eyes of many

I felt their determination

and lingering hopelessness

despair and desperation

the anxiety and agitation

spoken words vapor

written word stays longer

well after I’m gone.












My heart moaned

I too mourned

it hurt somewhere

couldn’t figure out


if only the Earth’s

belly opened up and

swallow me whole,

something lodged

in my throat,

words failed,

to have feelings no


blanketed in a

lonesome, burdensome


invisible in a world

overpopulated or so

they say

my goings and comings

were noticed not

keeping up a charade

breaking apart bit by bit.








I Rise



I rise and fall

I rise again

though my battles

many, countless

still I strive

stifling all fears

firing up


tenaciously exuding



I rise


From somewhere


I came,

faceless, doubtful

then hopeful


I rise


To hear the heart beat

fighting emotions

terrifyingly contradicting

but mindful

as long as I have breath

I have another hap


I rise


With the four walls of

a mind that traps

words that scar,

acquaintances that



I rise


Very much aware

there will never be

another me


I rise


I may fall plenty

more times

but I will always always









Home That Can Never Be



I vow

if I ever go back

for good

I will appreciate

all the things I

never really noticed

or valued,

waking up in my

father’s house, the

scent, faces, love…

oh Lafamilia

No! I wasn’t damned

or banished…

its a path I chose,

one that breaks my heart

one I have to travel

down on

they begged me to come

back, I laughed,

come back to what I


Its all gone in shambles

what’s left are the ruins

of life that was once and

stories of how it used to be

that won’t put food on the

table or stability for the


here I am a long way away

wishing but knowing

until it goes back to how

it used to be

home can never be.











Foolish young

running wild

I was once,

soon maturity

caught on


presented itself

they were not


that joined me

in silly

escapades done

and dusted

each to his own

I knew them not









Catherine Magodo-Mutukwa

Catherine Magodo-Mutukwa is a published poet/author keen on highlighting those social issues that affect society negatively. She uses this art form to bring awareness in the process hopefully, inspiring and uplifting other women. She lives in South Africa and loves to travel and read.


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