Idle Curiosities? by Mgcini Nyoni

What’s underneath the towel?

You know?

as she sweeps the yard

in the morning

Nothing?

Lacy panties?

She smiled at me

does she want me?

We are all victims

of ‘idle’ curiosities.

The Half Naked Gardener by Mountjoy Mkhando

I was once a half naked gardener
I planted worms instead of flowers
The owner of the house
was so furious with me
he chased me wielding a stick

And then I went to another house
and there
I was welcome with great gusto
They told me
I was the only man in the house

I thought of planting sperms
instead of green vegetables
I thought of X and Y chromosomes
and the uterus
with a silver lining
I ended up chopping off all tomatoes
that were ripe and selling them
To blind nuns of Sibantukodwa Mission
They showed me their petticoats instead

My employer, seething and fuming
told me to go back
And come back a changed man
"repent at Vundu!"
"repent at Vundu!"

And don't repent at the
Ministry of labour and Social Welfare
Because your father was once a worker
and also used to be an employee at the same place;
that is all I have to say!!
Said the official

Honest Living by Jabulani Mzinyathi

Photo by Jabulani Mzinyathi

They even doubt my sanity

Lying on this contraption

That puts bread on my table

That earns me lots of admiration

The many mouths I feed

My life is like Russian roulette

There in the city hustle and bustle

Weaving through fast moving traffic

Risking a gruesome death on the roads

Playing cat and mouse games with cops

The fatigue then takes its toll

Missing You by Fungai Tichawangana

i am missing you
in agonized moments
that tick by
in painful tock motion
ants that never stop
neon signs
that won't go off
flashing always
keep waiting- soon
keep waiting- soon
as noisy interruptions scream
hang on- forever!
hang on- forever!
a cacophony of mind dances
words that make make sound
of their own accord
in my restless head
if you were here they'd escape
through my lips
in soft breaths of loving you
through my smile
in impromptu stanzas
of telling you
as if for the first time
that that very head
that formed those words
revolved in its madness
around your beauty

i am missing you
in mornings that dawn
before i can dream enough
about your presence
in evenings that set
before i can tire enough
to sleep so deep
that i won't see those pictures
in my slumber
of you, of your smile
of your sienna brown skin
in days that meander
always into paths
that flow to your memory
yearn for your aura
crave for your footsteps
upon their brickness
in afternoons that burn
hot sweat
off my memoried scalp
attempting to drip
the thoughts away
but they remain
in a painful, sweet
twisted
emotion
that translates
to deeply, darkly, delightfully
missing
you

- Love, Fungai

With Buckets On Their Heads by Mthabisi Phili

photo by Resta Nyamwanza

what happened to Matabeleland’s water?

i hear the bureaucrats are stalling it in Harare-

and they speak of unity and impartiality only towards the ballot boxes!

so towards the vote we march singing songs they’ve forced us to sing,

but this is not Europe and snow is not an alternative for water-

no fantasy or reindeers pulling Santa

no games when people need the dam,

the chronicle reads:

‘Bulawayo’s water situation worsens!’

Zimbabwe by Donal Mahoney

 

From shimmering oil

of ebony still

will come flailing of limbs

will come hacking

quick slashing

of hands now untied

tattooing no pattern

not even a maze

depriving gray walls

of their stone

will come spittle

wild churning rivers

agush from slack jaws

of blanching gray hounds

till one day at dawn 

will come quiet

My Friend Samuel by Lilian Dube

Photo by Resta Nyamwanza

When the worst comes to the worst
Tell your sister I loved her
Wore on my finger
Gazed at her everyday
Tell her I couldn’t help
But be the man
born for the road
with her tender in my palm
building dreams,
& still promise
that if I don’t make it home the same,
You’d still tell her
I loved her.

Writing with light winners

1. Jazz by Lilian Dube

Photograph by Resta Nyamwanza

I met jazz in a dream

Down by the river

Leaning against an amarula tree

Playing the pennywhistle

To the sound of my heartbeat

& the smell of the last rains

She made love to my senses

Drowned my soul

I can’t breathe, can’t let go.

2. Between A and B by Babusi Nyoni

Photograph by Resta Nyamwanza

Lines, LINES

Electricity lines

Zip-zapping over skylines

On city grid guidelines

Load-shedding nine-to-nine’s

“Danger! Electricity line!” signs.

Deadlines...

Telephone lines

Long and entangled like telephone line lines.

Telephone line fines, paid

To nourish telephone line vines.

Weaving... Over-under.

Mashed.

Confused.

Hooked up on telephone line twines.

Trapped between the (04)’s and (09)’s.

Or is it C4’s and Tech 9’s?

Underground cables? No. These are landmines.

Landlines, to our foreheads add lines. Call them headlines.

HEADLINE:

 “Information highway knocked out by internet lines.”

A lineage lost.

Punch lines...

3. Women – Uhuru by Sammantha G Ndlovu

Photograph by Resta Nyamwanza

 As I  bled my soul on the microphone

From a place within me thats tattered and torn

Shattered by life’s social ills

that women swallow as bitter pills

Violeted and trampled upon

As the rest of the world simply looks on

I am the voice of womenkind

I speak the words that feed your mind

Women Uhuru , for a new day has come

Shout it onthe mountain, for your life has just begun

Let our voices resonate,

let us shout as one

The power in the voice is way beyond that of a gun

I cannot be silent, and I can no longer weep

I can no more suffer, while the planet is asleep

I cannot accept the rape and violence in the home

And no longer can I accept

To spend the night alone.

Pindirai by Mgcini Nyoni

Photo by Resta Nyamwanza

We have danced

and sweated

sweated and bled a river.

We have sung and prayed

We have played our drums

have hit our percussions

to a shrieking crescendo

prophets clad in

red

green

yellow

have shaken our heads

into dizzy confusion

dirty fingers inserted

into girls and mothers.

We have sung

and danced

and prayed

And have hit

the same brick walls

We look up to the heavens

and say

Pindirai Mwari*

* Pindirai Mwari – please intervene God.

Mother and Child by Anesu Katerere

Old war lord barbell fish in tin pot roasts
Eyes curse tormentors one more time before bursting into soup
Conscious that it’s grave be the stomachs of two fatherless
Generations
Never school, nasty disease between thighs
But mother and child

Seven day school uniform, hips for stale chips
But mother and child.
Two figures lost to the present
Dipping unwashed hands into old chemical container
Now plate
Smiling sadly
But mother and child.