A man. Borne riddle in places.
This curvature of space. All that needs to fill,
Only a stroke. Working to undo errant stitches
More than a needle thread. A loom with which to.
Showing posts with label Zambia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Zambia. Show all posts
Wednesday, 2 April 2025
Here I stand - Simon Ng'uni
Sunday, 8 January 2023
A Trip To Heaven - Charles Chuze Kayeyi
I took a trip to heaven
But only in my mind
I wanted to know what it's like
To leave all you love behind.
Sunday, 7 August 2022
Living - Tukupashya Ally Kasongo
ls the exodus at birth?
ls it at conception
Or is it in the genes
Wednesday, 15 June 2022
Love - Charles Mwewa
I long, long truly for you
I miss you, and it is true
Sunday, 10 April 2022
A Quiet Palm Sunday - Michelo Mweetwa
On a humble donkey he once rode
Thunderous crowds by the road
Liberation they craved or
A salvation he gave forth
Saturday, 13 November 2021
Precipitation is Upon Us - Denny Moonde
Precipitation is upon us
Hoe in hand, turn soil upside down.
Tuesday, 17 December 2019
Absentee Husband - Denny Moonde
Its late in the night has he called you yet?
Is he heaven sent?
How can love be absent?
Is what you share fair and decent?
Is he heaven sent?
How can love be absent?
Is what you share fair and decent?
Thursday, 10 October 2019
Run, Heart, Run - Efemia Chela
I exercise this muscle in my chest
with bad love, fake affection.
with bad love, fake affection.
Tuesday, 14 November 2017
Rear View Mirror - Cheela Chilala
Sweaty hands gripping the wheel
Perspiration on my brow,
My feet weary and my shoes worn,
I drive through life's tough terrain
Perspiration on my brow,
My feet weary and my shoes worn,
I drive through life's tough terrain
Tuesday, 5 July 2016
Slow Dance - Charles Mwewa
Like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle,
Flesh to flesh, skin to skin
Flesh to flesh, skin to skin
Tuesday, 23 July 2013
Some Bright Elegance - Kayo Chingonyi
For the screwfaced in good shoes that paper
the walls of dance halls. I have little patience.
I say dance, not to be seen but to be free, your feet
are made for better things. Feel the bitterness
in you lift as it did for a six year old Bojangles
tapping a living out of Richmond beer gardens
to the delight of a crowd that wasn’t lynching
today but laughing at the quickness of the kid.
the walls of dance halls. I have little patience.
I say dance, not to be seen but to be free, your feet
are made for better things. Feel the bitterness
in you lift as it did for a six year old Bojangles
tapping a living out of Richmond beer gardens
to the delight of a crowd that wasn’t lynching
today but laughing at the quickness of the kid.
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