Archive for the 'Poetry' Category
Thursday, December 17th, 2009
In the moment of things
As if transfixed, moved
When my soul is touched
When my eyes adore and admire
And I feel the need
The urge to express myself
Through the only means I know
Writing and scribbling
My thoughts, my imagination
My wave of thought
As passive as the sound of beat
Attracting the ear yet failing dismally
To transform the soul
Into its rhythmic trance
For both to trail in unison
My mind flows with ideas
My soul is inspired
Things I can visualise
Yet my fingers fail me
These fingers cannot transport me
Into the creative juices that flow in my inner being
Where ideas, thoughts and creation reign
How disconnected can I be
Disjointed like a three legged pot
With so much juices running
Like umqombothi, the potent beer
Simmering in the open fire, in the three legged pot, mmadikotwana
Juices running down my veins and up my head
Even blinking creation and ideas
Yet I cannot put these down
Into any readable form
Into any poetic rhyme
Rhyming words and flawless rhythm
Like I suffer from the writers syndrome
The dreaded spiritual emptiness
Shallowness that beckons
Just when my soul yearns for creativity
Blocking my creative juices
Like clouds giving way to the hottest sun
Following the darkest of clouds
A mental block
Something undefined
Simply known as the writers block
By Fezekile Futhwa
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Thursday, December 17th, 2009
My mind races
So fast that my speech cannot keep up
I stutter as a result
For there is too many words
Words to be spoken, with this my mouth
One lousy mouth, so slow it’s antiquated
And so the mouth is overwhelmed
At this flooding of the words
Words yearning to be spoken
To be heard, and listened to
How my ears long, for these soothing words
Words of a poet, poetry
Rhythmic and flawless
Smooth, sa lejwe la moralla
I therefore surrender myself
To the written word
The one so captivating
So well written, so perfect
Perfection and purity
As words fly and letters work miracles
My soul is freed, a sigh of relief
From this overflow of ideas
Ideas crying to be born
Rhythm in my heart, pushing through my vocals
To be made speech, words with sense
For people to listen
Listen and be moved
Like dancers in a rhythmic trance
My passion for rhythm
My love for words
My like for speech
I rhyme in the spoken word
Creativity can never be silenced
Freedom is a natural right
And speech is free
As free as the air I breathe
This is my speech
That my passion shall grow
Be let be, and flow
For art is my passion
Passionately the arts
By Fezekile Futhwa
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Thursday, December 17th, 2009
Where do people go
Every second and minute
In full glare of our eyes
Only we do not see
Our eyes see only what they are meant to see
We do not notice what we are meant not to see
When I am fully awake
Senses running high at full speed
Totally sane and conscious
Yet my mind transports me
Into places unknown to me
Places only remembered in subconscious state
So I can bear no witness to their existence
Where do people go
At night when we go to bed
Or when overwhelmed by spell of deep sleep
Causing us to abandon all
And give way to the needs of my other state of being
Ascended to deep sleep
Only we call it dreams
For this is too much
For anyone to understand
Where was I last night
In that deep snore and turning around
My body completely defenseless
Unguarded and seemingly neglected
While my spirit wastes in Lala-land
Some call it Dreamland
Kanti abantu ba ya kuphi
My body seems possessed
Fully alert yet fully dead
Driven by an unknown force
Zombie state, but fully functional
While the mind is far far away
Only it knows where
Like this is a conspiracy
My mind and soul together
Ganging against my conscious state
And when this body has had enough
Or is it in response to a higher calling?
I drop dead unconscious
Only alive in shape and form
Yet totally incapacitated in the human form
Where exactly did I go?
That my body cannot respond
Until my higher calling has been answered
Na batho ba fella kae
Ho na teng ha maotwana finyela
Teng ha mofu mofunyetsa pere
Into the unknown, yet the understood
Like the brain is mysteriously communicating
In a state beyond my conscious understanding
Yet subconsciously conversing
In this language foreign to my awake state
How exactly does it happen
That I am here now
But in another space at the same time
With the godly state dominating my life
Spending most it dreaming, thinking, dozing off
About things I can never remember
No matter how hard I may try
Where do people go
Somebody please tell me
Where do I go everytime my mind rescends
Into this state of the unknown
My soul departing from my being
Going to no mans land
A place higher than a human can ever understand
Where on earth is that place?
How many states do I have
How much of my life am I aware of
How sure am I that even now, as we speak
That this is not a dream
Or one of life’s mysteries
Never to be revealed to me
As I continue on this life
One moment I am
The next I transcend into a world
Far far higher and bigger
Than my present state can endure
I hence remain oblivious to my transitions
Moving from one life to the next
Without ever noticing my escapades
How many lives does a human live?
And how many does a man remember?
With absolute certainty, that indeed this is my life
Sometimes betrayed by slipping thoughts
That turn my life upside down
Leaving me doubting if I was awake or dreaming
Yet some things remain crystal clear in my mind
Only I can never prove them
They remain a distant distinct reality
As my different lives cross paths
Where do people go
Ngithi bayakuphi kanti abantu
Na batho ba ya kae
In this Lala-land of mystery
Where conscious people do not go
And those who dare do never return
Mysterious is Lala-land
By Fezekile Futhwa
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Thursday, December 17th, 2009
On this cool day
Of breezes and smells
Cool breezes of winter
Sweet smells of plants and flowers alike
Oozing with the liveliness of nature
Scenting the air with sweet fragrances
To the joy of my smelling organs
Happy Friday, happy afternoon
A precursor to what is to be a great weekend
When we pay our respects
To this great man I have become
Celebration of life
That indeed a man I am
Worthy enough to be celebrated
In the many years of my existence
Moons upon moons seen
Seasons upon seasons past
I have seen and experienced
Enough to last me another lifetime
For my life has been a lifetime
A lifetime to me, the only life I know
Today I stand tall and erect
Chest inflated in pride
Thrashing my hand on my chest repeatedly
Announcing my presence
Declaring that indeed I am great
Tribute be paid to me
For all that I have seen on earth
Life has played tricks on me
Rewarding me handsomely with success
Tomorrow crying with sorrow and hatred
And tomorrow yet again, blessed with wonders
Like life is playing hide and seek
Only this is real to me
And the effects are here for all to see
Hardened and all proud
A milestone in a lifetime
See how handsome I am
Manly and strong
Round tummy protruding
Indicating a well fed and healthy man
How well groomed I am
Today as I celebrate on my behalf
I refuse, totally, to be defined by others
On what my life means to them
Rather what my life means
To me, the owner
So pardon me if today I shall ignore you
If only me shall be the object of my affection
Sitting in the glory of my better self
With a don’t care attitude
Because today I truly don’t care
Tribute be to myself and only me
By Fezekile Futhwa
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Monday, November 30th, 2009
Words don’t surface with the same familiarity now,
Hesitating and tongue-tied, they retreat impotent in my mind’s crevices,
Fearful and stammering, they recede in the blinding light of my heart’s delight.
My intelligence, confronted by joy, exhibits a blank canvas
That I labour and yearn to paint for my reader,
But the words fade and wilt in the presence of such intense rapture.
I seek and find not the language to express,
The ecstasy that leaps and carouses within,
Newborn and undefined, rollicking and spirited – my bliss.
Perhaps, then, it is fitting that this feeling remains untainted by definitions,
Free from words or language, to frolic euphoric – unchained and unrestrained,
Forever my haven of un-penned delight to relish and savour – my joy undefined.
Bronwyn Desjardins
18 December 2008
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Tuesday, July 28th, 2009
Where are you, my period?
Pain and sanitary issues
By-products of each monthly issue
Are every girl’s worst nightmare
Four three days every lunar cycle
Moods swing between mood swings
I never thought I’d miss my periods
Until I actually missed one…
Pregnant? Maybe!
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Monday, June 1st, 2009
He who steals from death………………………..
Guilty hope, evil hope
Is it your eyes that miss my sight from afar?
Or is it your heart that shuts me out alone
Is it my smell that sets your sensors apart?
Held tight in a frame, I screamed for you
A frame too small for my African contours of fat on my skin
I know he called them curves
Many attempts of trying to fit
But my death sentence was framed by perfection
Never been to prison
But I have been a prisoner
A prisoner of perfection
Tried jumping out
But walls were too high to meet,
And award me a survivor
Guilty hope, evil hope
I hoped you would come
I dreamt you would come
To steal me from death
To give me hope afresh enough to crawl out
I crawled on a rocky ground
Rocks of love unmet
Mismatched endings
Dissolved expectations, torn promises
Guilty hope, I hoped you would come
i waited for your rescue like a foetus
A hopeless life of a 10-week foetus
At the mercy of her mom’s sinusoidal fluctuations
Fluctuations of hope, feelings, dreams and love
A wave that peaks the morning with her death
And troughs the evening with her life
At the mercy of limited paternal protection
Only wishes of having a womb sustained a pain
Of not being able to save his own blood from medical knives
Sighs of hopelessness is the only relief from pain
Pain of not being masculine enough to save his own.
Death is indestructible
He consumes many at ones
He kills families, unborn kids
He steals love and joy
But in all this only you HOPE
Can save us from death
‘Cause you steal from death
You nurse our wounds
And make us to walk again
I call you guilty ‘cause you can steal from death
I call you evil because you stole everyone from death
But you missed me
I screamed for you but you turned deaf
I waved at you but you turned blind at me
I am left with a piece of your trace
‘Cause you slipped out of my hands
Out of my heart and out of my mind
I lie here, with your traces draining from my system
Death is sipping all I had from you with a grin of pleasure
HOPE he who steals from death
He who steals from hopelessness
Is HOPE alone, is God alone
Prudence Molahlehi (2009/05/25) 05:18 PM
Posted in Poetry | No Comments »
Wednesday, February 25th, 2009
As if on a mission;
I raised my eyes and you were there;
A captivating vision;
I saw all that’s beautiful and rare!
Many years of heartache experience;
Have put me into captivity;
Moments of pure love indulgence;
Will transform my affectivity!
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear;
You’ll take me to another place;
I will embrace emotion and devotion;
The joy will be reflected on my face!
The fire of your love and desire;
Warms my heart and dries my tears;
A moment to remember;
All that’s beautiful and rare!
The strength of your love so clear;
As when I look into the mirror;
A reflection of true beauty and devotion;
Fills my heart with much love and emotion!
Today I smiled,
A moment to remember;
All the time we’ve shared;
Devotion and passion with my lover!
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Wednesday, February 25th, 2009
Awesome and true,
Yet often doubted,
Attraction at first sight,
Yet somewhat ignored!
He appeared with a bright smile,
A stranger that looked familiar,
He swept me off my feet,
With his gorgeous face!
I always find new strength
in his heartfelt smile
His eyes bring the joy
I’ve always imagined!
Every man I’ve met before,
I’ve compared to him,
It was always him
Who I wished they were!
If I’d understood
That he’d find me somehow,
He’d be the only one
To have shared my bed!
I’d have sailed the seas,
I’d have climbed the mountains,
To find him from another land,
If only I’d understood!
But, now I’m captivated
and somewhat robbed
With no right to ask him
to fill up my void!
A chance I will take,
And gamble with my heart,
Everything I will give,
To have him kiss my lips!
He’s given me more,
In such a little time,
I’ve taken much and given much,
To savour his touch!
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Wednesday, February 11th, 2009
the warring forces calls a truce
the curfew is lifted
we leave our roomlets
to scavenge the battered land
while the generous sun shows up
with balm in its stroes
for our sour bones
once again skimpy briefs
tan damp breasts and tighs
and once again daring heads
feed starving eyes
Franklin Shadrach Uchenna
Posted in Poetry | No Comments »