Monday, April 12, 2010

Voyage Across The Styx. by Philani Nyoni

Friend last night as I slept,

The strangest of things I dreamt,

I dreamt I parted with my breath,

I dreamt my soul crossed into death.

There I was among the dead,

Men who have no need for bread.

First my heart was filled with fright,

But I soon found much delight.

I saw the graves of every scribe

Confined in mortal proscribe,

Open up and dead men spewed

To give them life renewed.

Lords of ink and spoken word,

Rising up from deathly bed.

Rising from their tombs discrete,

Coming forth their word to speak.

Marvell, Blake and Shakespeare,

Came through saying, "I am here!"

Scores of other poets too,

Some of whom I never knew.

We met as poets young and old,

In rhyme and verse out lives we told.

Tales of sweet-kiss, lover's breath,

Tales of pain and hard whips’ wrath.

Though I sound a lot insane,

I tell you now, I'm very sane!

Twas a graceful sight I saw,

Listen now I tell you more.

There we gathered mighty scribes,

A sight no tongue can describe,

A gathering of all the best

Risen from death bed rest.

We spoke all night and did not tire,

Lashing with our tongues of fire,

We spoke for simple need to speak,

No one glory sought to seek.

Twas bliss in Poet Heaven wild,

None the critic our work to chide.

Scribes read of from tales of old,

Risen from the earth's belly cold.

Alas as all dreams pass away,

This one too went the same way.

The morning came and I awoke,

I left my pen wielding folk.

I rose to face my life the usual,

Out to face my demons brutal.

The worst is the one they call critic,

Ready to smite with rhetoric!

BROTHER BERNARD by Masara Taruberekera

Bro Ben what else shall you know
In these twilight swords
What else shall you hear or see
In these doldrums
Only rains full of despair
Echoes of melancholy
And deafening sounds of rumbling stomachs

Your face shall perfectly define
Sorrows of our time and the defeat of our struggles
Your tears will tell us
The shattered dreams you tried to lit
Dreams which were born
To wilt in the bonfire of desperation

In these horizons
All you have to know are the nights
Despair and desperation, never hope
Dull stars heighten your worry
Your cries will never yield anything
A cry in the wilderness
A cry to the deaf and the blind

Bro Ben
Who will hear us?
Who shall see us?
Our cries
Our despair
Our desperate tries and hopes
In these twilight swords