Wednesday, November 20, 2019

My Hero by Skaps The Advocate




Our journey has not been a smooth journey
Its never been sweet and rosey
Its been Bumpy and full of  storms
With a patient and loving driver
She is my hero
She is my mother

Swollen feet and High blood pressure
Unpredictable and unreasonable cravings
Supercharged moods and happy moments
A burgeoning tummy
You carried me nine months
Of sicknesses and no medication

You are my hero
You are my mother
In celebrating you
I celebrate your love
I celebrate your bravery
I celebrate your patience

Mama to show me the way
You would slap my right cheek
Cane me when angry but with great love
You could punish me
To give direction not to hurt me
How I wish I could do the same to my Norma
I can only watch and say stop it
We have been schooled and colonised  by the west

Mama you toiled
Worked hard and you still do
For me and my siblings you never rested
For us to have the precious meal on our table
From changing my diapers to my life coach
Mama you my hero

Mama i toiled worked my fingers out
Worked in the fields before and from school
As a child I saw a wicked and abusive mother
The western culture sees child labour
As an adult now I see a great teacher in you
You trained a winner
I love you mama
Mama you my hero

Now it’s the time
The time you sit down
Sit and be served like a queen
Take off the apron
It's the time I toil and put food on your table
Its time I changed your torn and patched wardrobe
From a servant to a queen
Mama you my hero
I love you 

Wednesday, November 6, 2019

Freedom by Zee Nyathi




You’re too mortal to understand
Why, I -
With this body
You call ’to die for ’
Still choose not to bandage my limbs
Or cripple my soul.
I dress the way I do
Not because of fashion deformity.
If it wasn't against the law,
I would walk naked
But I understand,
Ragged chic, Bohemian chic
Is as close I will ever get to Eden!
My being is expression
of freedom & spirituality.

Wednesday, October 30, 2019

The Overdue Letter by Matewe Dumisani Albert




I don’t eat chicken, may you please give me a job
Electricity, water and proper health care system
Oh! and papa this poem is too small for everything I need
But we can start with the ones that I mentioned

I do work and go to school simultaneously
Who said only women are good at multitasking?
As old as I am, which other future for me is in preparation?
Or you just want to boost up my tension?

Ngazviende!!! Hatizvide!!! Zvii zvacho?
Will this war cry make everyone else feel macho?
How do I succeed with?
Nothing else is selfish than a croc

If you can hear us, we are down here
The people you stepped on climbing up there
Do you know what happens when your time is up to be again down here?
You need the same people to step on from up there

I am claustrophobic, from this shell how do I penetrate?
I mean like at one point I thought Zimbabwe was lit
Before we faced this bottomless pit

Monday, September 23, 2019

Young Couple @ Heart Attack Greasy Grill by Michael Lee Johnson



I was a little boy,
tad hillbilly son,
patterned then in
present tense,
hardly old enough
tall enough to work
nor notice if I had pubic hair-
large or small endowment
growing up self-conscious
about short comings
narrow chest.


Just a teen aged nighttime boy
looking 4 a part-time hook up-
little girl play, with a five-card stud.

Preacher daddy raised me,
back-seat Christian boy
low on faith high on doobie
rolled cigarettes.


I took my 1st job, pancake flipper
@ Heart Attack–Greasy Grill, 24-7
pocket coins 4 tips, a few greasy dollars,
pancake short stack, secret menu was that
boss’s daughter, blood on hands,
my bun busted now stale, stained, & baked.
Eliminate lines unessential:
waitress injected me some spice
old time recipe.


The Next One by Holly Day

Image - https://13isyourluckynumber.wordpress.com/


she rolls over and sighs in her sleep
a song of distant cherubs

such a tiny, slight sound
the sound of the sun rising.
she reaches for me
instinctively
slips soft hands into
my worn palms, fingers that feel
too old.

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