Cherished Tears by Raylton Nhau

Image - elev8.com

I let the tears flow 

Certainly I don’t bother to wipe them off

Cause it’s not them that bother me

Rather the memories that brought about the tears

I cherish every tear as it reminds me of those days

Takes me back to those moments,         

As I count the times I have shared

I count not the emotions but

Each tear I won’t wipe away on my cheek

Maybe I will forget you or how we meet

But the tears I will forever cherish more

That mirror I stand in front of

Not to see myself in it

Rather to see each tear as it flows swiftly

Hoping I can share those moments once again

Or maybe see a reflection of what we shared

I won’t raise my head high

Rather I bow it down with no regret

As I let every tear drop gently

Hoping they would gather

If not on the surface maybe beneath it

I would rather let them flow slowly

Than to hold them back and let the emotions hold me ransom

I would rather not wipe them off

But I will cherish every moment, feeling, emotion

I won’t taste the tears because I know they are bitter

Rather I will cherish them because the memories are sweet

The same honor I had when I let you go

It still is that honor that let them flow

Each tear being a reflection down the memory lane

Each tear being deeply rooted in that lane

For I used to treasure the moments, feelings, emotions

But it’s the tears I cherish more

Cause every tear is a lost treasure

For I once was rich in memories

Rather I choose to be poor

I lay my head on the pillow

To allow the tears to stream down

And hope that they stain

If its unclean then I choose to be dirty

Loco Over My Locks by Jera

Image - freewebs.com

No, I don’t smoke cannabis, don’t get it twisted

Read it again, just in case you missed it

Every man and his dog is obsessed with my twisted follicle

That’s why I wrote this twisted chronicle

I wear these locks in solidarity with my brothers who, in locks and in chains,

Were packed into slave ships, exported for white man’s gain

Exploited on plantations, sun up to sun down

Beaten, chained, raped, gunned down

Centuries later, they were dumped on an island

Island of Jamaica, left to poverty and violence

I twist my follicles in sympathy with my brothers, out on the streets

Vagabond dread heads, rummaging in trash cans for scraps to eat

I do this because the look suits me

I’m making a statement, so go ahead - shoot me

I do this ’cause it’s the natural state of my hair

I do this because I can and, unlike you, I dare

Never, once, did Shaka Zulu’s hair feel a fine tooth comb

And never ever did Nehanda perm out her dome

A Hindu with a turban, to you, causes no harm

And a Scotsman, in a kilt, to you exudes some charm

But me in my locks

Scares you, like a hen next to a fox

Analyse this – dread locks – you dread my locks

Free your mind… for it is chained and locked

The Orator by Heather Dube

Image - blackenterprise.com

Raised in the city of kings.
I claim my throne of royalty
With ink as my spear
paper as my shield.
I claim my space in the world
to be heard.
I express myself
liberate my mind
I share my thoughts
I explore the depths of my imagination,
the turmoils,
the pains,
the smiles,
the laughter.
I tell stories
maybe told by others
but not told my way.
Take this journey with me
as I scribble through the wars of literature
leaving signature trails
on empty pages,
Claiming my rightful throne.
The Orator

Our Children's Tears by Mgcini Nyoni

Image - palindromekmarie.blogspot.com

We have grown fat

on our children’s tears

We have become rich

on our children’s blistered hands

and cracked feet

We have allowed fat men

with big stomachs

and big luxury cars

to tear our children’s hymen

and we dare ask

what’s wrong with our children

We have crammed whole families

into single rooms

and the children sleeping under the bed

can hear the parents having sex

Our children have seen

their mothers sneak in boyfriends

 as soon as the father leaves

for work at the industrial site

Our children have seen their fathers

with other men’s daughters

behind the public toilet

And we dare ask;

what’s wrong with our children?

We have given our children machetes

taught them to chant party slogans

and to clobber political opponents

and we dare ask

what’s wrong with our children

We have become rich using

dubious economic policies

that have not benefited

the ordinary man on the street

We have built beer halls

nightclubs

and taverns

In place of schools

and libraries

and we dare ask;

what’s wrong with our children?

We have grown fat

on our children’s tears…

Days Past And... by Sdumie C Moyo

Image - madamenoire.com

Last night my heart thawed
When I felt your soft sultry lips brush against mine
It was like I drifted on a light cloud for a moment
The music in my heart was so piercing that I forgot my surroundings

Began to lose myself in you
You saw the flame in my eyes and smiled
You gave me a rose though it wasn`t Valentine’s Day
With the utmost passion
You told me you loved me though it wasn’t my birthday
Last night we slept under the stars and we both wished it to be everlasting

When I woke up, I was without your company
In my bed, with nothing but my blankets keeping me warm
My pillow tightly clutched to my chest
Reality began to sink in...
My delusion was the rerun of a time in my life when I thought I had found the one...
My Adonis Alpha Male
I can still taste your lips though they are just but a remote recollection
When you see me, instead of stopping to speak you pass me by with only a distant nod
I can’t help but be taken back to the time when you couldn`t take tour eyes off me
When saying ‘hi’ was never enough for you
I guess...you were the one for me then and not my forever after

I hate you for making me fall for you
I hate you for making me love you
Because of you, I always have to battle your ghosts that threaten my sanity
Because of you, I made a promise to myself; I will conquer your ghosts until you are distant memory from another lifetime and I will LOVE
Like I have never been hurt before!