The Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign

March 22, 2018 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

Reuters photo

 

By

Mbizo Chirasha

 

We used to believe that leaders are our servants and it was the truth then. Today national and municipal leaders refuse to be answerable to citizens; they instead butcher citizens to shut up. Many people have died due to poor health, tough living conditions, hunger and violence and our leaders still walk free as if nothing has happened.

Why we citizens continue to celebrate and hero-worship devils that sip our dreams and drink our sweat every dawn? Why? Why? We need to rise and March against politicians who loot and leaders who butcher.

We are a poverty and violence bleached generation that knows nothing other than vending and running battles with heartless municipal police. We know nothing other than the iron boot and buttock stinging baton sticks. We lick the charcoal of violence every day of GOD and after the roast of our flesh we queue to vote YES for the same devils. We no longer respect ourselves. We are now used to scars and handcuffs.

We need to rise, fight and speak for peace and nonviolence in our communities. We are breeding a future littered with blood. Rise Poets, Speak Poets, Speak Voices -Poetica Infinita! – Mbizo Chirasha.

 

 

 

 

GRANDMA’S SIGH

 

 

Her last phrase was being humble! Subconsciously

Stood her statement as she gasped puffing out

Heavily, struggling her way out vibrantly passed

And her last phrase burst aloud, be humble son

Calmly I perceived what seemed a drama staged

By fate at tender phases of my life and begin….

Fourteen years wasn’t that much to acknowledge

Death rage and its excruciating pains stalking her.

The pains blared from her bewildering eyes that

Turned round and round her cavities in rotation

White rimmed iris getting darker and darker as

Her strength grew and my palm she held firmly.

I had never felt fear like that to acknowledge her

lying hopelessly on the stretcher bed, her soul

About half a mile where I stood besides her body

The felt terror broke a nerve and I cried. She sighed.

 

 

(By Wilson Waison Tinotenda. A poet and flash fiction writer. The editor of Deem.lit.org and its founding father. A human rights activist, an ardent follower of the Zimbabwe We want campaign)

 

 

 

 

ARMIES OF THE WORLD UNITE

 

 

Armies of the world unite make league

With politics, with big business –

Above your military – industrial complex

United armies made into biggest empire

Fade borders and become international –

Truly global, – for the enemy choose

Not white rabbits and not climate change

To control, not a non-profit organisation

Invest in the enemy and sharpen wit

From public exchequer pull half –

If not more, – but unite, the best practice

Hire management gurus, – but expand

‘Don’t fight each other’s, fools,’

The wise amongst you to yell –

But do chase the target and means

To achieve it, rob and kill, create

A fear and make terror, – the meek lot –

The civilians and their mouse-brains

Be the barn and do things rashly

Be lions and when needed wear sheepskin –

Or wolves may be, may be foxes –

The humans are not intelligent enough

To send you to Mars for a fight –

Till then rule the earth and unite.

 

 

(By Sadiqullah Khan – The Brave Voices Poetry Journal Solidarity Voice from Pakistan, Dr Sadiqullah Khan is a gifted poet of immense insights and creativity. Writing on a range of subjects his themes are social, spiritual and politically aware. Looking the domains of day to day living, delving deep into the sufferings and joys he seems to be the voice of dispossessed and the vast majority of poor he passionately identifies, yet his art touches the high mark of existential writing, unique in style and composition, he appears to lead his own genre. He belongs to Wana, South Waziristan in Pakistan)

 

 

 

 

DEFINE IT FOR ME

 

 

I walk foolishly

Sleep walking in my lough

Not knowing why the lough

I have no answers to the questions about it

They told me

It’s a piece of paper

Its coins of silver and copper

Its gold in reserves

is this the money they defined

When people fight to have it

Flight anger in the planes

Define the angles for me

I am foolish to know in my lough

Sleep walk foolishly with me in my lough

You get to know why its money

that we die to have at all cost

Only for it to chase goods that have no value to them

if this is money let me have something else

that I can die for in its worthy

Let me dream foolishly and lough in my walk

 

 

(By Shepherd Zengeya – Poet and Thought Leader from Zimbabwe)

 

 

 

 

PERHAPS

 

 

If you had stayed perhaps things would have been different

Maybe things would not have been so difficult

Maybe Mother would have been happier

Maybe the heat of the fields would not have scorched us so much

And we would have laid on softer sheets

And ate better meals

Our sandals would not have torn beneath

Nor holes grown out of our stockings

But you left and we grew sadder

Yet Mother grew stronger

Though wrinkles and lines of worry crept on her face

Our education was never denied

She worked tirelessly for us to be cared for

And today we say

Sweet Mother

Dear Mother

Thank you Mother

Perhaps your leaving gave her strength

And made her who she is today

A woman of courage and strength

Of confidence and wealth

Perhaps your leaving was for the better

For we are stronger and the bruises have healed

And in my little way I praise every woman toiling and working hard

The sun will not scorch you by day

Nor the moon by night

Help will always come

Perhaps it will be for better

Happy Mother’s Day

 

 

(By Temitope Aina – writes passionately and inspiringly and her themes are love, peace, harmony and self development. She loves to read African literature and is enamoured with poetry. She writes from Lagos, Nigeria)

AN AFRICAN WOMEN

 

 

Watch the shaved head bare

Emaciated boobs

The big skull of the suckling infant

 

Dark leaden eyes with thick bushes of lashes

Dry tongue has sewn lips

Genitals mutilated

Figure still can haunt you in nights

 

Compound eloquence

You make me very small

On the scale of equilibrium

 

 

(By Sadiqullah Khan – The Brave Voices Poetry Journal Solidarity Voice from Pakistan, Dr Sadiqullah Khan is a gifted poet of immense insights and creativity. Writing on a range of subjects his themes are social, spiritual and politically aware. Looking the domains of day to day living, delving deep into the sufferings and joys he seems to be the voice of dispossessed and the vast majority of poor he passionately identifies, yet his art touches the high mark of existential writing, unique in style and composition, he appears to lead his own genre. He belongs to Wana, South Waziristan in Pakistan)

 

 

 

 

YOU BLOOMED IN FULL

 

 

Arrests my eyes and thoughts

I tried in vain

To empty my sorrows

With countless sighs

Every day you change

I remain the same

I prisoned you in my mind

But sorrows buried deep in heart

Seasons may change you

But seas of sorrows remain constant

My dear blooms don’t fade

At least remain forever in my mind

So that ….

 

 

(By Gopichand Paruchuri – International recognized Publisher, Academic and great English Poet in India)

 

 

 

 

TAPIWA

 

 

Not beauteous to say but you more than

A frog to kiss, In nous you inflicts these

Emotions that spins round and round in

My mind, irresistible and the pulse harsh.

With a gaze to your splendid torso, brings

Forth a maze, that I am lost in thy white

Rimed perplexing eyes only my portray to

See bewildered in the dark pigmented iris

If not this be error, an optic nerve Beauty

Then I have learnt to appreciate my lady

And comprehend in nous my lameo not

To vow thy affections. A figment of minds

More than a fantasy… That you are even

The reason to my dawn ejaculations awry

Craiz as it is Tapiwa words cant weird all

In that is deeply hidden in fragile hearts.

 

 

(By Wilson Waison Tinotenda. A poet and flash fiction writer. The editor of Deem.lit.org and its founding father. A human rights activist, an ardent follower of the Zimbabwe We want campaign)

 

 

 

 

HAVAFAMBI ZVAVANOREVA

 

 

Havafambi zvavanoreva

Tarembera nekuremedzwa

Kana dziri pfungwa dzatapudzwa

Nyika yatambudzwa

Ukada kuratidzira okwapaidzwa

Chipatapata mudorobha reHarare

Wangoti pfee chete haurare

Mazvake mazvake chero kwaMutare

Ndiri kunyora izvi ndiri pano pamusika we mbare

Tarembera nekuremedzwa

Ko zvichemo zvedu hamuzvinzwiwo here

Iko kwamuri kumusoro kusina anokwanisa kusvika

Chiregai makakava amunoita muri mumasvutu

Batanai nyika isimuke

Ko vamunodzvanyirira handiwo here vakakusvitsai ipapo

Pasarudzo movarambirazve kukubvisai

Taneta isu hama

Ivaiwo ne hana

Tifambe takakwana

Pfungwa tichipana

 

 

(By Nelton Ganzel – My name is Ancilemo Gandari pen name Nelton Ganzel. Academically studied literature at Ellis Robbins boys high, but well the nature of my wellbeing as script writer poet comes from within treasure and enyoy Dambudzo Marechera, Shima, Chinua Achebe and Shakespeare works.Born and raised in old Highfields’s write to inspire by and large reach many)

 

 

 

 

UNWANTED GUEST

 

 

Agony it is full of

Coming from above

To all it adverse

Cone to pass, the universe

Knows nor grace or grass

Neither status or class

Sorrows of much

Many pain of such

It is egregious

And seem prestigious

Has respect for no one

It leave non

Invisible it is

He alone does

Silence is it voice

It not a choice

It hard to bear

But of fair

A being laying still

For it thy will

Rudely it is

That feel and says

Exempted is no one

To all it is done

It is but the act of God

He alone applaud

By His order, come

In Him from

It full of fear

Like nightmare appear

It s an unwanted quest

But a time to rest

 

 

(By Ezzidio Rahman Conteh)

 

 

 

 

IT WILL END

 

 

My heart coils to a distant corner where my eyes have caught sight of him

This lad drenched in thick clotted cold blood

I let out an involuntary scream and quickly stifle it

When did the hyena’s get wind of this hideout

No place was safe anymore

No place is safe anymore!

There were more….

They had screamed for help in the hope that help was near..

These barbarians in whose veins flowed cold blood

Blood frozen by lunacy

Hunger and a thirst for every material gain…

Hyenas on the prowl uncaring

Lusting over everything and everyone

Hyenas that know no boundary

Stopping at nothing to feed their already bulging bellies.

This land belonged to those children

Their only heritage in harsh reality

Overwhelmed with shock

The brutality so real

The orphans gone

The custodian despised

Who will fight for the helpless?

In a dramatic rejoinder

The hyenas gather to share their loot

They disagree and rage

In mad rage they hack each other

Exposed flesh, blood oozing

A sight to behold

Soon it all ends

The end is sure pay

None can enjoy evil gain.

 

 

(By Caroline Adwar – a rising Poetess, an English and Music Teacher in Kenya. She started writing poetry while in high school and she is a fanatic of old English poetry writing traditional style, rhyme, repetition, alliteration and assonance. She is currently experimenting African free verse and her poetry will soon be published in Kenya, Zimbabwe and other International platforms. Caroline is a Bachelor of Education Arts (English and Music) from the Kenyatta University in Kenya)

 

 

 

 

Hawkers vending guns for gain, Casanovas pimping freedom for slogan.

Black freedom toting fists for revenge, I see people with stones heavy in their hearts,

Trembling in the delight of fading rain, dieting from gossip and fear,

In a country smitten by ego and arrogant ambition

A country that lost its character and everything, infected by moral dementia, drinking from jars of sorrow every dawn

 

 

(By Mbizo Chirasha (Originator of the Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign, Editor of the Brave Voices Poetry Journal, Internationally anthologized poet and Literary Arts Projects Curator)

 

 

 

 

INCREDULOUS CURSES LIKE ANTS

 

 

This is art of the possible…

Incredulous curses like ants

Smoked out of a log.

Shock at changed tide

The snort and the hisses.

The awakening to wisdom.

The rehearsing for a smile.

At the enemy transformed.

The rewiring of the tongue

To pour profuse praise

The shock. horror. stupefaction.

At the sudden realisation

 

 

(By Michael Mwangi Macharia – a poet based in the Rift Valley region, Kenya. He contributes literary and education articles to the Kenyan dailies. He is also involved in directing, adjudicati­on of music and drama. He has developing interest in History, fine art and photography)

 

 

 

 

CAPE GOOSEBERRIES

 

 

Paw paws have their season, so do guavas,

grapes… but this, this little full-moon,

that’s what you called them –

little full-moons, you said,

popping one into your mouth,

half-shutting your eyes

against the explosion of tiny pips

and juice as sweet as sugar,

tart as lemon… these pok poks

seed themselves in everybody’s garden

sprawling, every season, golden mini-moons

with recollections in their scent

of Peruvian highlands…

that afternoon, snuggling in the back

of your red mini-minor,

our love cage,

that’s what you called it –

amour en cage, you said,

popping one into mine,

following it with a kiss…

how was I to know that the next one

not on your lips –all those tubes –

and the last, would be your unresponsive hand

on a white sheet smelling of disinfectant?

 

 

(By John Eppel – lives in Bulawayo and has 18 publications of poetry and prose to his name, including collaborations with Julius Chingono, Philani Nyoni, and Togara Muzanenhamo)

 

 

 

 

Hark The Prophet Reborn!

Love is the joining of the longings

Between the loins of lone beings

To become indistinguishable beans

Tumbling in a boiling pot like bream

Drowning in air, choking on the dream

Etching God’s face. In separation’s season

Masturbation feels like treason

For love is an open-prison,

Your shackle is your affection

And watching over you is the tower of reason,

The blaring bugle begging to be disproved,

Sediment in sentiment that burglary has solved;

Nay, cured, the disease of your inner peace.

 

 

(By Philani Amadeus Nyoni – a Zimbabwean born wordsmith. He has written award-winning poetry for the page, the stage and the screen. He has also written articles and short stories for various publications, local and international)

 

 

 

 

 

The Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign

 

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