The Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign

March 2, 2018 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

Reuters photo



Mbizo Chirasha


This 32nd BraveVoices Poetry Journal of the Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign is a tribute to the late icon of democracy and paragon of political change in Zimbabwe, Morgan Richard Tsvangirai, the Founding President of the Movement for Democratic Change, the former Prime Minister of Zimbabwe.

Tsvangirai has left a wide and irreplaceable gap in the Zimbabwean political field and democratic politics will never be the same in Zimbabwe. Poets from around Africa and Zimbabwe are here paying their respects and tributes to the larger than just a politician Morgan Save Tsvangirai who succumbed to death after a long battle with colon cancer.

Tsvangirai was a great fighter; he fought Mugabeist autocracy with immeasurable tenacity. We say ALUTA CONTINUA. We thank you Brave Voices and Solidarity Voices who took time to send their condolences, elegies and epitaphs to the life and works of the departed Son of the Soil.

Poets join other progressive movements around the world in paying respects to the icon. The Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign continues to grow into a strong art activism force in the fight for political democracy, social change and citizens’ justice and these were the wishes of MRT. Thank you to new campaign participants and to all our Voices. Rest in peace SAVE, Rest in peace Musaigwa, Rest in peace Paragon, Rest in peace Icon , Rest in peace Qawe. Rara murunyararo gamb, makarwa kurwa kwakanaka – Mbizo Chirasha.








Flying colours half-mast

-The invisible flag of death

To fly. Red should fly full blast

Like dust. If Savé wished this,

Then the ceremonies of Harare

At Rotten Raw, Mapondera,

Parliament & Harvest House

may have blinded him as well.

We don’t seek his will, democracy’s

Not the wish of a leader however

Egalitarian his slogans. For Savé,

There should be no final push

To break through the iron gates

Of the Heroes acre where only

The tomb of the unknown

Soldier shelters no murderer,

Communist or thief. No, he was not

Mao or Tongo of legend marching

Boots from Peking Academy.

Savé was a common man,

A tea-boy they said. For him

Flags should not be lowered

As (we do) for ZANLA bandits.

The polls should be stripped altogether

Of the coloured clothes or if

For fear that foreigners should not

Know which country they are in,

Fly the drapes full, the golden sphinx

Dangling head to the ground

(And the pentagram upside

Down like



A disclaimer from the Poet (I didn’t write the poem for Morgan R Tsvangirai, I wouldn’t have written him a rhyming couplet if he were alive, I wrote the poem instead on the occasion of his death, insight an act of symbolic anarchism, that is the act of pulling down flags, burning them, cutting them, hanging them upside down as contrasted to draping them like capes or waving them at cricket and soccer matches or in front of courts in protest marches.


(By Innocent Fungurani – a Zimbabwean writer, poet & digital artist who currently resides in the Kingdom of Lesotho. Fungurani writes in English)








Indeed, the interests of the oppressors lie in ‘changing the consciousness of the oppressed, not the situation which oppresses them’.

Paulo Freire


And they cry for bread for butter

You say you are not hungry –

And they the shouts make

That their rights be met

And you say meet your fate

And they protest to their death

You say you terror kill

They have been ditched enmass

Say you that you found the corpse

They their freedom snatched

Their liberty their equality and justice

You say follow the holy tenet

Here and now to survive they say

After your demise you say –

The meagre resource you usurp

And you say from divine seek –

-You are such a thorough…



(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)








(My letter to the federal government, especially to my esteemed president)


I’m your humble citizen and a strong change activist, But this nation has turned to a money swallowing nation, thus, keeping us afraid of the next target by these animals. Below are some swallowers I took record of.


Abba Kyari *SWALLOWED* N500Million.

Babachir *SWALLOWED* N233Million belonging to IDPs.

Cabals *SWALLOWED* $25Billion contracts belonging to NNPC.

IGP allegedly *SWALLOWED* N120Billion.

Cabals *SWALLOWED* $44Million belonging to NIA.

Aso rock (the presidential villa) was raided by rats which destroyed about N3billion worth of things

The budget was padded,

Recently, the Aso electricity gulp #2b every year to maintain,

$3b was Wested on river Chad basin looking for nonexistence oil.

Operation Python dance swallowed some innocent youths.

Herdsmen swallowed many lives in many states.

Nepotism has become the order of the day.

Just some days back a Snake *SWALLOWED* N36Million JAMB Money.

Now the latest is about the Monkey that Swallowed N70m.

I cannot insult the president, no matter whatever, he is still representing Nigeria. But I think he should never forget what he promised us in Abia State, when he visited before winning his position as the president.

His every word “I will make one dollar ($1) equal to one naira (#1)”

We are still waiting for that change sir, it is not too late.

Fight the corruption and save our nation



(By Ambassador Daniel Amakor (ADA) – a young Nigerian playwright, short story writer, actor and poet, who took into professional writing since 2013 and has since then served as a local poetry consultant. He has all forms of poetry beautifully interwoven to form a unique and formidable style of writing with its main purpose to cause necessary transformation. His writing subject ranges from the ultramicroscopic things on earth to the most significant things around. Having written for tele stages and journals, he was awarded a barge as an outstanding poet. Ambassador Daniel Amakor lives in Abia state, Nigeria)





GREAT LEADER (Morgan Tsvangirai)



Define me not mean,

politically in practice my stand and stay in this arena is a shim.

Thoughts not so lean,

for the path the visionary meandered to date history holds.

Pen and paper shall toil.

Worth is the wait for all hidden scrolls.

In time truth will dangle loosely.

I survived the days of his rise.

Knowing what people deserved.

He chose to preserve.

Rising amid crookery, jittery, mumble and rumbles.

Torture and false allegations.

A handful can be said and told.

In silence we ponder and wonder.

Is the vision not going to wander.

Can we, are we, are they going to stand……

I stand here place afar.

Mind ajar ready

to aid knead



(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 as script writer poet comes from within.l treasure and enyoy Dambudzo Marechera, Shima,Chinua Achebe and Shakespeare works. Born and raised in old Highfields.l write to inspire by and large reach many)








Alas today we mourn for the fallen

Comrade… Tsvangirai Morgan… Oh

The phoenix hast robbed us a soul

The sentiment so absurd. Dilemma

Weep the impetuous child of Afrika

For the lion is no more… Wheeze

Groan, Frown for this political shift

A setback and the kept hopes flee

Faraway we the living can’t reach

No more . Our political freedoms.

Save all knew being brave , wept

lashed and stroke by the brother

In blue and topped greys… Know

This impetuous child that its turns

You are the left hope that blooms

Green sprouts from Save legacies

Impetuous child cry not a river but

Pay grief in nous for the struggle

Is just on the start mark. Resilient

Walk towards the betterment kins.

Save left a breach to be built trust

Not all are fiends or foes to digeth

The death pit. They are in pursuit

Of assurance that Save has fallen

Impetuous child never allow these

Fiends to seize your hopes…Alas



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








A dull day creeps on creation

The cat is restless beside the pot

The dog barks incessantly

Mooring cow is not left out

Poor mother hen just ate her only egg

Gloom has covered the face of my earth…

The tears have dried from my eyes which now glare in cold stare

The rain will not fall

The cockerel will not crow…

It is tired…



I longed to hear the frog last night

Long since that shrill screech of ‘onjiri’ was heard

The crow. The blackbird is silent

The children cry for their daily share….

It isn’t there

Evil has befallen our once vibrant territory

Our once able hands shrivel for lack of strength

Our lions roar no more

Our tigers hunt no more

We are crestfallen

Our feeble limbs hardly walk

Our lips hardly smile

The laughter is but a whimper

The strength to cry is gone

Gone with the wind of hope

Grapple we must

With the little hope we have left

The hope in the blood that runs in our veins…giving hope for another day

Together we rise.



(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)








I feel pain, so deep it echoes within.

I feel numb, can’t feel my heartbeat.

I cannot comprehend this.

Death, how dare you?

Death, have you no shame?

How dare you rob a nation of a dream?

The sun rising in the horizon, you sweep that away.

Death, how dare you?

The streets are calling,

the trees are whispering.

The clouds respond, and say he is gone.

No, I cannot comprehend this.

Death how dare you?

How dare you blow away the shield of the vulnerable?

To expose the discouraged to the enemy.

The women scream, as though at child birth.

The workers tire, the soil brings no hope.

The world has frozen, the cold cuts deep into our veins.

Death how dare you?

We’ve followed those footsteps.

They’ve inspired and given courage.

There just was not enough time.

So much he wanted to do, so much, yet selflessly.

Fighting for the homeless, the hopeless, those in despair.

Fighting to renew our household,

to renew our happiness and our decency.

To dress our political nudity, lest we be embarrassed.

Now a voice is gone, indeed he’s gone.

No, I just cannot comprehend this.

Death how dare you?

How dare you lay us bare and disfigured?

Could he not enjoy the fruits of his toil?

How dare you stop the rewards to his efforts?

You know his name is engraved in the nation’s heart.

Death, how dare you?

Go well, rest well Save.

Death, really, how dare you?



(By VIVIAN MAMOYO MABENGE – I am a Zimbabwean born lawyer and poet who is passionate about story-telling and provoking thought on a wide range of socio-political experiences in our communities. I find inspiration from listening to people’s stories and searching within myself for that part of me that can relate to such stories. I dream of a community that is free to engage in conversation and action for the benefit of its people, especially those who cannot voice their opinions and grievances. I dream of peace, justice and heath for all. I know through our collective effort on this platform, a lot can be achieved)








You were the voice of the voiceless

They beat you, spat in your face, called you names

But your were relentless

They kept brave faces

As they quivered in their boots

They acted irrationally

Locked you up on trumped up charges

But your bravery could not be caged

Closet supporters,

Too afraid to show their faces

Much less their rage

Quietly supported you, quietly in awe of you

You remained steadfast, bold, and stoic

And we came out of our closets

One by one

A growing legion of supporters

Giving momentum and thrust

To the movement that you created

The changes that you effected

The profligacy that you rejected

The wall of resistance to malfeasance

That you erected

Pushing for an outcome

That few hoped for

Much less expected

In your death, we feel hopeless

But, through your legacy





(By Terrence Msuku – A Zimbabwean, raised in Bulawayo. Now residing in Canada. A lover of literature. Former French and English teacher. Published author of a book of short stories and poems, soon to be re-published in print form)








The sands of time are sinking,

Over our horizons, a dark cloud rises,

The tea-pot nation of his birth plunges into mourning,

For a gallant fighter for a better country has answered to the proverbial call from heaven,

Adieu Morgan.

Through the brutalities and afflictions thrown at him; he sailed through,

For he considered it all gain

And from the visionary icon we all experienced more gain,

Adieu Morgan.

The physical frailties as his body grew weak and weak from sickness,

The hurtful and denigrating vile speech that was constantly spewed at him,

None could weaken his resolve for a better Zimbabwe,

He was fighting on all fronts,

For to him, the struggle for a better country was beyond personal comfort.

Adieu Morgan.

The beacon light that illuminated our road to democracy and selfless governance has been extinguished.

The burden has been laid on our hearts to lift our lights, small as they are; and the journey to continue.

The gigantic tree under which our nation has found solace in the face of the scorching heat of corruption and human rights abuse, has been felled,

Let’s all sprout up like small shrubs and take up the duty,

Our nation to protect against the eroding effects of the tide of a system that enriches a few privileged individuals

For in his day he has put up a good fight,

Adieu Morgan.



(By Brighton Muponda – a Zimbabwean author born on the first of November 1986.He stays in the city of Masvingo, Zimbabwe. He  co-authored a poetry anthology called Dzinonyandura which was written in Shona, a native language spoken by the majority of people in Zimbabwe. He is a technician by profession who specializes in cell phone hardware and software technology)








Is today’s sea of red the archer’s,

Or a fateful omen

That Morgan be no-more?

There was fire in our seats;

We did not burn

Until we counted your wounds.

A prophet in your time perhaps?

Did he not go, go, Mugabe go

At last, at last: violently?

Let words be few o’ Richard

O’ lion heart, let words be few

For tears black as rain are choking

In remembrance of your scars

And justice, feeble justice

Sprawling raped dripping

Wanton pleasures of dictators

That denied your heart’s desire

In this life. You were a man like me

But tenacity claimed thee,

And quelled a fire

Grown from immortal hell.

Moses denied the Promised Land!

But I am glad, I am glad,

Though you have not

Lived through the morn:

I am glad; I am glad,

Your eyes have peeled a dawn.



(By Philani A. 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)








Real face of the struggle for democracy in Zimbabwe

Inspiration to many locally and internationally

Persevering not only an oppressive system but a deadly disease

May the nation and your family find comfort in your good fight

Remembering that you were never silent but resilient in fighting

Through all thick and thin – arrests, assaults & trumped charges

Still you took the bulls by their balls even at your own peril

Vindicated for being unpatriotic and unprincipled some times

Attacked for being loose with your tongue and zip sometimes

Never brought down by all this at all and remaining firm

Giving up on the democratization goal not your option

Insisting that Zimbabwe is for everybody to enjoy

Reiterating that the people of Zimbabwe come first

Asserting that the ballot not the bullet is the way to power

Indeed rest in peace Morgan Richard Tsvangirai – a our hero



(By Tafadzwa Muzondo – Raised in the culturally, artistically, politically and historically popular high density suburb called Highfield in Harare Zimbabwe, Tafadzwa Muzondo is a poet by passion preferring the name TafPoet when performing in English or Nyanduri Nyandoro when performing in Shona. A 2018 Global Fellow of the International Society of the Performing Arts and United States International Visitor Leadership Program 2013 Alumni, he is also a playwright, actor, director and founder of a leading Zimbabwean transformative arts organisation called EDZAI ISU Trust which developed from a community based self-sustainable theatre group to a nationally and internationally recognised and registered viable arts organisation. He has written and produced critically acclaimed plays such as “No Voice No Choice” (banned and prohibited in Zimbabwe), “After Flashbacks and Setbacks”, “All Systems Out Of Order” and “Demolishing Democracy among others)








The gruesome pains

which left plenty groans.

From the whole circle

of surviving oracle.

Which you were on the pinnacle.

You held the nakedness like a pinafore.

Of all the works

You aspired and inspired us to eat by forks.

But the smokescreen of life ceases

Leaving gathered creases.

Shedding tears of blood

Which had a terrible mood.

On a juxtaposition position

Of a precarious position.

Maggots with venomous marbles

Swimming in the sea full of bubbles.

Deprived of manna, with great hope to eat.

Cancer of the colon left only pain and sweat

Long life on a precarious place.

You will always live

For everyone wanted you not to leave.

Mist, hopes now in place

Morgan Richard Tsvangirai a forever ace.

SAVE, the king of water.

You left by death motor.

RIP gallant fighter

SAVE the warrior



(By Chrispah Munyoro – currently a student of Applied Art and Design, Graphics and Website Programming. at Kwekwe Polytechnic College in Zimbabwe. Munyoro is a talented writer, journalist and a dedicated Design Artist. She is natural linguist, fluent in many languages among them English, Shona, Esperanto, Setswana, Swahili, Italiana and Yoruba. She began as a columnist writing feature articles in the Gweru Times in Midlands Province Capital of Zimbabwe. She has worked as a Midlands Chapter Chairperson of the Zimbabwe Association of Freelance Journalists. Munyoro was once a Zimbabwe Representative at Zone IV Regional Youth Games in 2014 Bulawayo in the boxing discipline. The multi-disciplinary artist is registered under AIBA the international body of boxing. The Writer, Artist, Poet, Journalist and athlete has been writing poetry since her tender years and she has participated in various writers, poetry, journalism and sports)







(In memory of Morgan Tsvangirai)



I woke up with swollen eyes,

My ancestors had given me a black letter in my dream,

A dream I was alive to see,

Oh in the letter I saw time sitting placidly on it,

Time had its careless hands in it,

The hands that once upon a time were soft,

It opened its wings and blew the wind

The wind was fierce, it came with spears

It pieced the feeble heart of the tree of reference,

I’m sure it missed its way,

It was a stray wind, my tree was its scape-goat

I saw it feeling uneasy after the strike,

It had lost its focus due to nature’s call

I saw it folding its hands behind its back,

Pouring curses on those tiger stripes

who gazed in dismay,

who soon will serve their condolence in holey bowls

It promised them a sweet visit

And turned and wiped my tears,

The baobab fell, its fall was is an axe put into my heart,

The sound it made can’t be repeated by the sound of the drums

We’ll play on the farewell day,

Time is furious for its mistake,

It kept the black letter in my hands and left

The baobab is gone, who will protect me?

Our inks are taking notes of its blessed memory.



(By NNANE NTUBE – A Cameroonian who is passionate about creative writing. A teacher of languages (French and English) but she is currently furthering her studies at the Higher Teachers’ Training College, Yaoundé. Her poems The Lost Bond, The Pains I Feel, Hungry Voices, Change, Trust in Tears, A Child’s Dream, are published by Spill words press. Her poem, The Visitor featured in a magazine in Zimbabwe; The poems, The Pains I Feel and If I am Your Rainbow appeared in an anthology of Gender Based Violence, #Wounded which will soon be published in Zimbabwe by the POWAD group (Poets With A Difference). Her poems Before I Met You and As I Hold Your Hand are forth coming in a wedding day anthology in Zimbabwe. She is a social critic, a youth activist for peace and an aspiring actress)








From the beginnings of the new Zimbabwe

A man that was enslaved by his quest for peace

Democracy being his only fate

In the land so distant from home

I could see his determination to lead

Not as a leader but as a servant for all


Flags of hope were raised

People once rejoiced with freedom hymns and dances

they invested their faith and pride in you

I now sit back in silence

Astray in suspense through my dark room

wondering how a man so good could leave so soon

You were

The hope

The belief

And the   dream of the better Zimbabwe


You left the people just too soon

You will forever be remembered

I hope you get to read my black letter Mr Tsvangirai, the Paragon of Democracy.



(By Polly Makotoko – a 23 year old, national poetry writer and performer from the Kingdom of Lesotho, The Founder Afro Poetry Movement, a young movement of poetry, graphical crafts and live performances in Lesotho)







(Dedication Poem to the sudden fall of Morgan Richard Tsvangirai)



You rose among thorns like moon among black clouds,

You shone your light in the direction to dawn, your light dethroned devil’s clouds

Your moonlight awakened dark cities where life was lost, it shone in dim villages where drums had fell silent,

You who defeated the hangover of darkness and you repented political drunkards into democrats,

You who boiled the cockerels and burn the feathers,

Tamed the reptiles and used the canines as casting lots

And you calmed leopards and wear their skin

You who never died, you fell many times and rose from the choking clay,

You, the big river droughts failed to dry, sands failed to suck all your waters

You carried fish , reptiles , algae, stones ,pebbles , froth , logs and hippos today we all cry for the river has gone dry,

When the baobab falls the earth sneezes, your fall trembled us, SAVE means SAVE,

Saving us from life guzzling AK47s and blood sucking devils

Morgan means more; I mean even more years on this beautiful but wretched earth,

The tube of your  soul punctured so early before we  all walk side by side with the giant rays of dawn,

Sleep and dream well, the spirit of democratic change

Baobab never die forever, its roots will live forever,

You are the lightening streak that has laid its eggs, you will strike again.



(By Mbizo Chirasha – an Internationally anthologized Poet, Writer in Residence, WordPress publisher, Creative Arts Projects Curator and Arts Activism Catalyst.Mbizo Chirasha is the Originator/Instigator of the Zimbabwe We Want  Poetry Campaign,( Brave Voices Poetry Journal -Tuck Magazine, Word Guerrillas Protest Poetry Journal – Zimbabwe Sphere, Poets Free Zimbabwe- Miombo Publishing). His poetry, writings and blog journals are widely published across the globe,, Chirasha is a solidarity member of the  Global Arts and Political Alliance (GAPA, and African Partner of the International Human Rights Arts Festival, New York, United States of America ( He publishes Women Voices and Profiles in his POI Journal (, Writing /Poetry Voices in MP ( Mbizo Chirasha  is a Poetry/Opinion Journal Contributor to  the Tuck Magazine (Brave Voices poetry He Co-edited a bilingual Poetry  e- book in Germany and English with Andreas Weiland, International Poet, Translator, Publisher and Critic in 2017 (








As we look back over time

We find ourselves wondering…

Did we remember to thank you enough

For all that for us you have done?

For all the times you were by our sides

To help and support us…

To celebrate our successes

To understand our problems

And accept our defeats?

Or for teaching us by your example,

The value of hard work, good judgement,

Courage and integrity?

We wonder if we ever thanked you

For the sacrifices you made.

To let us have the very best?

And for the simple things

Like laughter, smiles and times we shared?

If we have forgotten to show our

Gratitude enough for all the things you did,

We are thanking you now.

And we are hoping you knew all along

How much you meant to us?







To many a hero.

To a few, insane and insecure,

a threat.

To Zimbabwe a black Moses,

much welcome.

Our future,

much promising.

Our arm,

much reliable to lean upon.

Our leader,

worth following.

Our mentor,

worth giving our ears.

The one who unzipped Mugabe’s trousers,

showing us that he was just a man like any other man.

The one who let us realize

that there was nothing divine in Mugabe’s administration,

if not misrule.

The one who spiced our local politics

with a delicious and aromatic flavour,

giving the nation a consciousness that to oppose is no crime at all.

The one who let us know

that all pot-bellied ministers weren’t pregnant

but eating much at our expense.

Tsvangirai to them a rebel!

Tsvangirai to me a post-independence Freedom Fighter.

The one who fought with constructive words of truth not with weapons of mass destruction.

The one who resolved matters with intelligence not with emotions.

The one who moved freely not in hide like others.

The one whose bloodless struggle for total freedom for all

shall linger in history forever.

The one they are foolishly thinking they have silenced

when he is now ubiquitous and much noble than before.

The one who is now you, me and all

continuing with the same noble fight to the bitter end.



(By Blessing T Masenga – a bold word guerrilla, a fiery poet through his writings tirelessly and boldly seek to strip nude the oppression and the violations of basic human rights)






The Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign

Editor review

1 Comment

  1. NNANE NTUBE March 02, at 14:07

    Wow!!! Great voices indeed. From the reading of the poems above, one can't be proud of scrolling down without any pausing to reflect on the bleak future ahead of us. The words are so energetic and gloomy. Good job to all.


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