Poetry

February 19, 2016 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

By

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

last

 

The hushed whispers of a voice

broken

tormented by watchful eyes of thy

fruit of the womb

Pleading and begging for her

perpetual breath lest they be

mother-less

 

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

mind

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

shoulders

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Down-Heated

 

 

 

My heart moaned

I too mourned

it hurt somewhere

couldn’t figure out

where,

if only the Earth’s

belly opened up and

swallow me whole,

something lodged

in my throat,

words failed,

to have feelings no

communication

blanketed in a

lonesome, burdensome

immensity

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

perseverance

tenaciously exuding

optimism

 

I rise

 

From somewhere

nameless

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

disappoint

 

I rise

 

Very much aware

there will never be

another me

 

I rise

 

I may fall plenty

more times

but I will always always

Rise.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

asked?

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

future

here I am a long way away

wishing but knowing

until it goes back to how

it used to be

home can never be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yesteryears

 

 

Foolish young

running wild

I was once,

soon maturity

caught on

responsibility

presented itself

they were not

there

that joined me

in silly

escapades done

and dusted

each to his own

I knew them not

anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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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