Thursday, August 8, 2013

Not Forgotten by Thandeka T'kay Gonde

When you're gone with the wind
And your footfalls have become silence
I'll savour the last touch of your hand
Should the miracle of your smile evade me
I'll keep the warmth of your breath
For the winter nights
As your silhouette fades into the distance
I'll remember the look in your eyes
And the music of your heart beating
When your laughter has trailed off
When echoes of your voice can't reach me
I'll sing the songs that your presence wrote in my heart
To tell the world
That though you be gone
You are not forgotten

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Those Other Black Boys by Zibusiso Mpofu

Image -
One is young and foolish, one wild and free, one is married and single
And the other, is cold and dead
Those other black boys whom no one will ever comprehend
They burn with strange passion for each other
Whimsical, dreamy boys, no different from each other but all the same...strange
One is young and foolish, one wild and free, one is married and single 
And the other, is cold and dead
He dreams of strong male lover
With a mind of ancients 
One that will tug at the fragile fabrics of his unbroken heart
That kind of lover who loves to love to love, wandering the dreamy spaces of the mind
While slowly tugging at his finger tips on a jazzy summer night
He is young and foolish, he has priest for a father
The other is pink profound
Walks around with feathers in his heart
And a story that speaks a million tongues
He's has an iridescent male lover, never cared for the musings of other folk
He rides the crest of intuition and kisses his lover out on the street
Never ceases to amaze little black minds under the covering of shades
That stop to muse always
One is a proportion of tall secrets
Walks around with a halo on his countenance
He is the master disguise, smiles with his ignorant wife and plays roles on and on
But when he gets with his male lover, his crafted modesty falls
Layer by layer his character peels itself to tunes of fear, lack of acceptance and a struggle to stand in the eyes of his people
And when his lover bends him over, his ignorant wife will cease to call him a man
The last is cold and dead, simply because he had a male lover
His own people buried his spirit with no swan song 
To colourless yesterdays and soiled memories
No one knows his name
Only his lover can see the truth of his countenance
And the rest of his unfolded history is spit upon
One is young and foolish, one wild and free, one is married and single
And the other, is dead and cold...