Friday, January 27, 2012

Zabalaza by Zibusiso Mpofu

Photo by Mgcini Nyoni
That bloody chicken bus
A sight for sore eyes
An unneccesary affliction
A disgraceful reflection
Into past lives and their memories
That sordid affair of
Tyrannical cruelty
That hackels my countenance from side to side
Back and forth
To my grandfather 's place of sorjoun
That horrible affair of political dissatisfaction
My heart assumes pulputations
That damned chicken bus
That works up red earth
Into a colourful story
Memories of painful foot joints
And back aches
''This is what our fore fathers died for''
May you and I be blessed with their fruitful spirit
To rise and throw
That ugly chicken bus
A sight for sore eyes
A painful distraction
A reason to rise...

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Jacaranda Solitude by Frank Malaba

Image -

Streets paved with gold seeking shuffling feet of old.
Me a little peasant boy,
Walking in the rain with no hand to hold.
Jacaranda trees dangle their lilac bells of royalty and
Sprinkle me into oblivion with their golden confetti of pollen.

Blue headed geckos, like miniature dinosaurs cling
To tree barks and steal nanosecond glances and make me
Feel like Gulliver in a modern Jurassic street.
I am happy, save for the occasional shots of solitude that
Sneak up on me to remind me of the many avenues like this
I have built many a papier-mâché memory on.

In the distance I can see the speedy bullets of kamikaze raindrops
Splashing into the thirsty red soil.
They conjure a red mist of dust that pirouettes its way into
My eyes like red ballerina child soldiers hell bent on bringing me
To my knees.
And yet I keep walking, breathing and shuffling my peasant feet
To get home.

These golden streets, so uninviting, forget that
It was the crusty hand of my father that
Polished them to their now acclaimed glory.
Oh how quickly the gold forgets its buffer in
Its time of shimmer!

My mittens choke my hands so that I silently scream
Inside my head and peel them off so my palms can breathe.
I look at my hands.
Are they to be vouchsafed of royalty?
And yet it does not matter for I am content
To walk the streets where you trod
To pave a way for my dainty feet so I could walk home and
Rest my weary frame before facing the world again tomorrow.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Secrets Of My Heart by Emelda Makamba

Image -

Shadows fill an empty heart
As love is fading,
From all the things that we are
But are not saying
Can we see beyond the stars
And make it to the dawn?
It felt like spring time on this February morning
In a courtyard birds were singing your praise
I’m still recalling things you said to make me feel alright
I carried them with me today
I don't know where this road is going to lead me
But I'm hoping that with you I can make it through
I've had enough of this life to lead me
Right up to the edge of the world I knew
I'll be loving your light
Till it fades away
Tell the world I know
Because it will never change
If something feels so right
Just can't turn the page
There's too much to lose
We're just passing through
Shadows fill an empty heart
As love is fading,
From all the things that we are
But are not saying
Can we see beyond the stars
And make it to the dawn?