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...

Jacaranda Solitude by Frank Malaba

Image - marikenya.com

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.

Secrets Of My Heart by Emelda Makamba

Image - quiteoh.wordpress.com

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?