POEMS

mama africa.

Written by | Cynthia Mapando

From the waves and falls of the storm that thunders. The raise of your nature, the alphabet of our lands. From Angola to the jungles of Zimbabwe.

To Us, Our motherland brings laughter and joy within recognition. Descending to that which will again rise from dust itself. For we came from dust and to dust we shall return.

When the Sun rises.THE HUSTLE comes to everyone’s minds.

Little girls mudding and modeling with hips set from side to side. Sweet potato leaves designed as earrings and bracelets. Not to mention ‘Mahumbwe’ being played until dusk. Hide and seeking under moon and starlight.

Messages passed on from one generation to another when Granny tells a story of the ‘Chimurenga/ Umvhukela’ (War). With our ears set to listen attentively about how we all came to be known as ‘The Black Skin’

It Is The Culture l Hold Inside! The culture that cries within me. When l lose myself to ‘That’ which has taken over the world. From the animal skin, l find clothing. A top like scarf rapped around my breasts, and a small short skirt made from ‘dehwe’. Totally different from the crop tops and skinny jeans from the upper known lands. Proud of the African Natural hair plaited with wool from Mama’s beautiful but sacrificed jersey. No beauty is to be left unknown when reflections are everywhere. Water in streams, rivers, lakes and dams. Beautifully natured as mirror in the stream.

Showering from the streams. Washing and cooking water from the same source.......That’s Where We came from....... And embarrassment, we spit on.

Mama Africa❤

You who holds different cultures in your hands yet living under the same sky. Different languages only to mention a few... Shona / Ndebele / Swahili / Kalanga / Sutu /Venda / Xhosa / Zulu / Nyanja

From the languages that holds our tongues, not to speak in riddles but in the love of our Mother Nature. All corners of Africa. The cry is heard across The Indian Ocean. Holding the teary eyes of the blood shaded during liberation.

The Mother tongue states never to mumble but speaks for the nation. For every voice deserves a platform not just the loud ones.... She speaks to us through the ancestral spirits, yet to clap for rains and food for Africa. She Speaks about Humanity. Our cultural ways. To keep and pass on the beads and clay pots for the next Heart.

Mama Africa! The culture within us shall live forever. The culture Africa holds inside. The African Proverb passing it on. The Black Skin being the weapon. The Cry Being the Voice... You shall live to be remembered!

#Black Lives Matter!

Art & Creativity | POEM

barefacts of my past.

Written by | @audrey

I felt a familiar stab of pain, Bare facts of my innocent past, There are no adequate words, To describe how I felt,

Descriptions, An image haunts me, It comes to me when I am Only half awake and have no Control over my thoughts, Sometimes a memory I haven’t managed to suppress emerges, It also surfaces, When I am eating, Or Drifting off into what I hope will Not be a dreamless sleep, I visualize,

It's a place, A room where a small naked child Is standing, So quiet she is, Attempts! To do something that will take her away From the bleak space where she is,

Outside! The sun is shining, Its warmth penetrating the brick walls of that room, She is shivering, Her heart is pounding,

Dear life! Abused and unloved, Hurt and pain, There's much to gain, Her uncle, Cruel and unsympathetic, Sold her, Turned her into a prostitute, Emotionally abused, Unaccepted by parents, Told I am mentally unstable,

It is too painful for me to give it more than a hasty glance, cowardly, I push it away. Silence! That is real and clear, That was broken by the sound I grew to hate, Flashes illuminated the room, Exposing its bare walls,

I heard sounds that are the essence Of a happy home, Children's spontaneous laughter, Then I wonder if once my home, Had been like that too, Was I ever a child like that? Sometimes I don't think I was,

I want to think that as a kid, My world was a warm and Safe place, Lulled by mother's voice during the day, Felt loved and secure,

Often I try to peer, Through the tiny peephole, For a flash of my innocent past.

Art & Creativity | POEM Bitter Truth.

Written by | Kennedy Ochieng

Families always wish to have a baby boy, Jubilations usually come with being a man, When the umbilical cord is cut, You are welcomed to desert few manage the heat, You have to maintain your stamina against storms.

Your ego crushed just after being born, Tears on your face is a sign of being weak, You have to smile even when deep you are drowning, Even when the cut is deep but you shouldn't let a cry, No one knows the pain behind his smile, Faking a laugh to seem okay.

Pain doesn't know whether you are a man or a woman, When you feel the pain, men also do feel pain, Heartbreak and rejection don't know your gender, Hunger and frustrations of life don't select, We need to stand for one another, I am because you are, you are because I am and so we are.

The bitter truth that many haven't realized, Also men do cry when it becomes unbearable, Never despise that tear and just say man up, Don't send someone to hell when he deserve heaven, We blame the results but does nothing on the cause, Do you want to see all men running mad naked? So that you can stand up and support men's mental health? Judging one gender for being wrong isn't a solution, Being hit right, left and center, Government on your neck, society on your head, Shouts at home, nowhere is peaceful, A man is a head of the family, I know.

© Wanda's Ink Pen ®Wanda The Poet #The Hand of God

Betrayal

Love break boundaries, Heart need soft caress cuddle, Breathing warm air, Love is sacrifice and dedication, Like a magnetic you are attached like a parasite.

Drinking from trusted well, Not a community well, Giving and receiving golden touch, Quenching thirst from coolest river, Why get bile for asking bush honey?

No road is straight and smooth, Ragged and stony some have to walk, Milking your sweat to the one apple on the tree, Feeding your bee on sweetest nectar, Then wake up and find a free and empty house and heart.

Why turn to be cold and heartless? Mashing to a paste a heart that bled for you, Turning to a sweet scented rose with a snake beneath, Why close your eyes and walk on a lonely road? The pain felt and tears shed will forever follow you.

© Wanda's Ink Pen ®Wanda The Poet ❤ #The Hand of God #AmbassadorOfPeace #AmbassadorOfHumanity

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This book depicts life situations that offer choices to the reader on the basis of right and wrong, it's a two sides of a coin situation. There is much to explore in the different poems that are offered and meant to challenge the way we have taught ourselves to perceive life itself, societal norms and values but this book opens up the possibility of a what if situation. Take a moment to think about the way you would have made the world if the chance was given to you. That is exactly what poetry is all about, perfection that always present itself as complex and hard to grasp. Perhaps God is already a poet and the world as it is his idea of perfection. This anthology also presents itself in the form of a guide as to how we may decide to live our lives not in a way that has been taught to us but in a manner of pure individuality and full self expression of our ideas and desires, we are human after all so who in their right mind thinks he has the ability to control the lives of others, i describe that as madness.