Writers Must Write by Success Sibanda

They must write of fears,

Of politics and tears,

Of the election that nears

Of the silenced voice each hears

They must write despite jeers

Of the wrong that is not right

Of the wrong that will never be right

That which makes evil bright

That which violates any human right

Writers must write

We must all write

On paper; in hearts

Of foes and sweethearts

Of the wrong and the right

Of what might not and what might

Writers must write.

The Seventh Morning by Bobbi Sinha-Morey

 

Image - http://mockeryoflove.wordpress.com

On the seventh morning

when I woke I found your

letter on my pillow and

when I read it, my heart

within me was like a stone.

You had taken back the

promissory ring and now,

in spite of the ambient

light, I felt numb, dimmed

with grief, that you had

left me to dwell alone.

My life is like a broken

bowl that cannot hold

a drop of water for my

soul, nor is there a cordiality

to lift me when I'm low.

All I ever see is the barren

dusk, no bud or greenness;

and without you, I am a

frozen thing, a falling leaf.