Poetry Bulawayo

All crops are made for fields, but not all African fields are made for crops. There’re so many tears of blood, insane murders. I don’t know where we are! All words are made for mouths but not all African mouths are made for words. How can Man control Man when God made him? I don’t know where we are! All feelings are made for hearts, but not all African hearts know happiness. There’s so much undeserved hatred, misery and injustice? I don’t know where we are! All shoes of freedom are made for feet But not all African feet are made for such shoes. Why can’t we feel for broken hearts and twisted bodies? I don’t know where we are! All pencils of knowledge are made for hands, but not all African hands are made for pencils. Have a long look at your table globe; only blue tears and blood… tears only tears drying our hearts, minds and souls. Terrible. Terrible. Terrible. Terrible.

I dream of Africa The open space that tell of endless possibilities the mesmerising beauty the black beauty of the women in lovely head wraps and colourful bangles that tell you You are home I dream of Africa where every woman is a queen I dream of Africa where the smiles are as big and lovely as the African sunrise the hearts as big as the Kilimanjaro and as vast as the Atlantic I dream of Africa where the woman are full of tender loving care.