The Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign

April 4, 2018 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

Andrea Moroni photo



Mbizo Chirasha


The Brave Voices Poetry Journal 39 is part 2 of our Women’s Voices set of journals. We continue to sing with our women, to write and dance.

The Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign embraces all positive and brave voices around the globe to celebrate Women’s Voices through poetry.

Our Brave and Solidarity Voices, thumbs up to you, you have submitted poems here with your great zeal and astounding affection which means we have great respect for our great women and we felt the only way to show our respect and recognition to women’s lives, strengths and experiences through POETRY.

Thank you all for taking part. The Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign is still here and is unstoppable. Poetica Infinita! – Mbizo Chirasha.








I ride the horses of my memory

Holding on to the hands of truth

Dancing to the tune of the winds

I have come to taste sweet words

And drink to the wisdom of wise words

I step into my season of abundance

I am not complete without you

I have rooms in my heart to accommodate your love

The words of my heart lift me up

I have eyes for your beauty and sensibility

I know what the eyes of the heart see in the banquet of the night

Dreams are fruits of the night

I like the footsteps of dawn

I have eyes for your beauty and sensibility



(By Oladipo Kehinde Paul – Nigerian Poet and Educator)








Waters fast down the drain

Shadows of human faces

Gain speed and mighty roar

Hurtling down the precipice

Disintegrating into atoms

Wet multi-coloured rainbow-

The curved arc on vapour

like an illusion

Reminiscences a past existence.



(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)








School, books

These are cracking my mind

The drums play no good sound

Brain cells are freaking tired

Nostrils sweat and bleed

Eyes, no light spray

Suffocating in uniforms

Pull these buttons off!

This heat can skin someone alive

Can’t turn left or right

These rules my prison cells

The questions are so demanding

The sun wickedly burning

Brains working and freezing

Numbness spies on us all

Tear these strict pages!

We dream to walk with Blake,

Whitman or Ginsberg

Put us on the road with Kerouac

We know no definitions

Can’t solve your equations

Grammar rules we give a damn

Burst a hole in the bored walls!

The real exam is in the world

Here, we’re wasting precious time

After all, these rules are pretty fake.

No concord to what we’ll face

Spare us the Maths, Grammar,

Biology, Economics..,

Out there, you learn a true lesson,

Out there you get your new rules

Where definitions suit

The needs of hunting hearts.



(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)








The two supple lumps

Of brown hot coals

Red-hot with flash floods

Of iridescent desire

Peek through a lacy cage

The colour of ashen penumbra.

The cleavage

Fresh, sticky with rage

Boldly calls to beneficiaries

Of its deep reservoirs

Right between the supple brown hills

To the summits they boast –

The dark, tricky soya beans.

Why the cockiness, you bra?

Your laces are such brats,

Why the tight embrace of the mounds

On this heaving bosom?

Be done with,

Be done and be gone:

Emasculate not the liberated.

The dazzle of perfect unity

As the mounds rise in formation

Like egrets take to blue sky

In the beginning of sultry summer

Paints roseate hues on fleshy canvas;

Brash, chocolate hillocks rise –

As breaths shorten

As dazes lengthen

As pearls roll off tongues

As –

A heat wave breaks the banks.

The heat

Rises a notch to etch

Indescribable droolings

As the bed all fluffy flares

With flames of hot souls

Partying, patting, parting…panting

In the hot showers of evening light.

The decibels

Ear splitting screams, moans

Paint the room with such glee,

All reservations flee

During this non-stop cruise

To cloud nine and back.

Salvo after salvo

Flak after flak

The mounds stand –





(By Richard Mbuthia – a teacher, a poet, an editor and a motivational speaker. He studied English and Literature at Kenyatta University in Nairobi. To him, the rhythm and verve of poetry are ingredients of a great love story. The twenty six letters of the alphabet amaze him with their ability to foster change – their volatility and aptness cannot be gainsaid)








Sister, your voice is enough

You have the last word…

The voice of reason

Voice of triumph

Victory resounding

Ah sister…spare me the harsh words

I know they must come

You are always right, I know

Blessed with intuition

Silence, not your style

When things go wrong

I brace myself for all you have to say.

Sister, thankful you always listen

And act responsibly

Happy I call you sister..

The voice of reason in our ill-bred society

Shunning untoward behaviour

Rubbishing all nonsense

Calling it as it is

A warm heart you have, sister

Tireless at doing good always

Facing evil head on

To shun and speak for the voiceless

Happy I call you beloved sister

You are to be emulated by all

That we uphold the spirit of sisterhood

Love selflessly

Laugh heartily

Weep with those that weep

Care and touch another soul EVERYDAY.



(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 pray you come

Fill my sleep

Though short lived

Live in my memory

A thousand hours

Drown my dark days

With pleasant dreams…



(By Gopichand Paruchuri – Poet – Lecturer in English – Interest in Literature – Keen on Travelling, Head of the Department of English and Vice Principal at Guntur, Studied MA in English at Acharya Nagarjuna University)








Quench my thirst

With words so tender

Wash my face

With the laughter you share

Change my cloth

With the joy you bring

It may be up to me

You must know……

Your role is key

Don’t make me needlessly cry

Do not force the tears from my weary eyes

Do not, I pray, give me false hope

Let me into your heart, dear one

Spell the truth, A B C…

The truth hurts..

A bitter pill to swallow..

But swallow, I must

Joy comes in the morning

Whatever your state

Happy or sad

Two sides of a coin

All in one life

Some show. Some don’t

It’s true…save yourself the trouble

Do not needlessly die

Live to see a brighter day



(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)








The writer wishes for solitude

The damsels wish for attention

The writer wishes for greater aptitude

The damsels show off their attributes

Their beauty a huge distraction

Alas he seeks elevation

Realms from which he can find inspiration

Not feminine wiles and manipulation

Dare to be a Joseph

Flee the wiles of the temptress

They buzz around like bees in motion

Like a bouquet of flowers their veneration

The writer his true love foams like the ocean

She is buried beneath waves of indecision.



(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)








You are a winged desire poetry

Uniting in spirit beginning with

The most ancient for that is –

Above history and philosophy

That we judge the time’s take,

Or to the posterity irrespective

Wherefrom, for like rain laughter

And tears have no tongue, – nor –

Joys and sufferings are different.

Love celebrated in common word,

It unites to beat the tyrant’s hand –

That one poet standing to armies

Preaching they get sooner freed

With the utmost care it consoles –

Or it is a song from the love’s lip

It bereft of understanding though

Spoken in whatever form it is –

To its rhythm humanity tips toes.



(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)








Rebecca sounded like a nightingale.

He takes comfort in her melodic voice that hums and ha’s along to Beethoven’s 5th then together they naturally rock to the beat of Mike Jagger – causing Rebecca some nausea.

The melancholy of Bon Jovi’s, “I will love you” always touched him.

He senses her tears.


His safe haven;

the time was upon him –

He blew his last bubbles.

“Cedric”….she named him after her grandfather, James Cedric Cobham;

One of the craziest names ever.

Why not James?

He made a mental note to ask about such madness.

Cedric trusted the hands that

would hold him;

hands that would keep him

warm in winter,

sandal his feet in spring and

cap his crown in summer,

protect his eyes from autumn’s

leafy foliage.

He was more than instinct and reflex,

He was a soul called Cedric.

His mother was silent

but he heard her every word

felt her anxiety.

He lay very still.

She placed her palm over her belly;

“Today we finally get to hold each other my precious boy”.

She slipped into deep

mournful silence as

she remembered – “I will love you….always”.

Pain powerfully coursed its way.

The midwife called his name –

Her tenderness made him smile

then cry.


Romeo’s bark was more real,

the whistling kettle all too familiar.

Rebecca smiled at the life she cuddled,

at the perfect down-syndrome bundle her boyfriend told her to abort.

Her “Bed of Roses” boyfriend.

She had made many mistakes but this was not one of them.

“Hello my Prince Cedric”

She felt soft and smelled as beautiful

as he knew she would.

Hello mom.

Cedric Cobham snuggled closer as he drank from the stream of life.

A wise and beautiful woman

understands the power of her words

as well as her silence.

He was Rebecca Cobham’s boy.



(By Beulah Kay aka Jambiya Kai – an emotive writer who weaves the tragedy and victory of the human experience into a tapestry of memorable imagery and metaphor? She speaks with honesty on the spiritual and social challenges of our time. Jambiya’s works are a must read for those accustomed to the jaded perfunctory cleverness of modern wordsmiths)








Many nationalities don’t remember having any stalled relations with any other nations

For oftentimes,

They are not in light of circumstances behind the reasons that propels their leaders to act the way they do

Plunging a nation into complete isolation from the world community

Just because of their sheer selfishness and failure to meet certain demands required of them by the world community.

Just pulling out of certain organizations without prior consultation to the people.

They mistake nations to be their property

Forgetting they are merely representatives of the people

Not decision makers.



(By Sitidziwa Ndoya – Poet, critic and writer)








There’s negativity in vanity, for she breeds envy and envy feeds off our insecurities

We all have some sort of insecurity

Whether it be big or whether it be small


I say be careful of vanity

She can surely lead to insanity

Killing off your vitality

When being outwardly beautiful becomes all-consuming it becomes time consuming


There’s danger in not striking a balance

Got to find a balance between self-respecting love of physical self with your humanity

Take care of your inner beauty be kind to your inner child


Oh women lets love ourselves and shun vanity

Shun vanity and all the negativity she brings

Shun her and all of her lies, we can’t let beauty be all so consuming! Waste not valuable time letting vanity be so time and thought consuming


For there’s negativity in vanity and its not amusing for she breeds envy which leads to self-hate. Vanity! I say be careful of vanity!

She will surely lead you to insanity

Killing off your vitality. Shame on you Vanity.



(By Khadijah Finesse – Artist: Composer in Verse/Song Writer/Performance POET and Advocate of girl child issues and rights)








Let my pilot pen pen pon this pale paper

a people’s poem of praise.

Let it write wisely with wisdom ways well worked-wonderfully out

a people’s poem of praise…

Zimbabweans are an optimistic, enduring, peaceful people.

In this blazing furnace

they have been brutally licked with tongues of fire

for much too long,

but without losing their firm grip upon the sacred handles of the constitution.



(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)








Of course, we know

Nobody can stop you from being

That which you have purposed to be,

Lord over all these hapless beings;

Nobody can stop you from becoming

The senator, the governor…

Not even the hoi polloi’s ruse,

Their pitiable parody of a voting voice;

Nobody can stop you

Once you are able to pay in the currencies

Of thugs and thighs

Of blood and bribes

And intimidate and dominate

The cravenly hordes, the dregs of humanity

In your tamed — or is it pacified?! –constituency;

Indeed you shall be that which you were

Destined to be

Even that which the Oracle had divined

At the altar of Fate

Where all had knelt and chose their Heads,

But a tyrant? But a robber?

When you have become that which you shall be

And shall covet more,

Then this oracle that divines for Only-I-always-me

Who always wants more,

Who says, nobody can stop me from taking everything,

Shall voice to you:

Whoever men cannot seize

They commend to the court of the Almighty,

And who has ever escaped the blade of her blind Justice?

Surely, not the wicked

Truly, not the heedless

And Death, imminent on the head of the reckless,

For the Owner of Heaven is yet to make

That which she cannot break!



(By Opeyemi Joe – writes from Ibadan. He’s had his works featured in journals, reviews and anthologies the world over. He likes soccer and singing, in that order. He is also a geologist)









From darkness

Brilliant shards ignite

Splendor awaits

A silent horizon



(By Pamela Sadler – Life can get messy and when it does, she writes! Pamela Sadler, a white flag from the home of the grave and land of the free. Surviving vast multitudes of trauma, she is an endless source of hard truth. Her sensitive nature promotes a humbling emotional experience for all. Acceptance and persistence led this widow to believe words are the birthplace of freedom. She invites you to join her healing journey as she spells out a voice from within. Let freedom ring!)






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