YOU

 

 Without you 

I would be nothing 

But echo wallowing in eternity

You gave me expression 

Loved me in ways untold 

Cared for me like no other 

In my weakest moments 

You held me high 

High enough to see

The mountains and rivers 

That are behind us 

In my lowest days 

You came through for me 

Lit my heart with hope 

That got me up each morning 

To face this ugly world 

And sea beauty around me 

When I was on top of the world 

It was you who held me still

To count my blessings 

And to never let a moment 

Slip through unappreciated 

Knowing that days like the sun sets

And rise again tomorrow 

Everyday it was you

And no one else 

Who held me strong 

And walk with me all the way 

I am proud

To be YOU

The Circus

Life, what a circus?

Unknown to us, we  faithfully queue 

For the next available seat 

It is a long queue but no one has a choice 

So we stand and watch the Grim Reaper have his day 

Sometimes He is at the front 

Sometimes at the back 

Sometimes He is in popular spots

And headlines are made

Sometimes in unknown locations

He passes unnoticed 

But every day He calls 

A seat is empty here!

Who is next?! 

The tremor is too deep 

To go unnoticed 

For no one knows what’s inside 

The huge tent that has stood since time 

Pitch black, no glimpse

No one knows the Performer

Deadly silent, no echos from within 

No one knows what happens 

When that show is over 

And the Grim Reaper cannot call again 

And of the day, He will have no one to call

But for now, there is an empty seat 

Who is next?

Written on the passing of poet, writer, politician and the poet's maternal grandfather Rashaka Ratshitanga (PBUH)

Ye knows the truth

Long knives are out
Ye knows the truth
Only the truth
can cost a soul

None cries foul
Nor crocodiles tears
for lies

Ye knows it is the truth
When swapping friends
for foes

Getting dropped
Like a hot potato
The truth is never easy
Ye knows the truth

The rain killed the calf

The rain killed the calf
The rain we long waited for
To spit life into this, our soil
To make the season's harvest bountiful
Has killed the calf

The calf that was born in a dry season
Counted a blessing because she survived
Now she is dead

Rain, are you a blessing?
That kills our blessing

Soon the soil will be dry again
The sun will boisterously walk out
But there will be no calf
To bleat on a summer day
And make merry of the waters
Flowing down the stream
For the rain killed the calf

Nguni cow and dead calf transposed on August Friedrich Schenck's Anguish by the author.

Conversations: Don’t look back

Don’t look back 

To Brushwood

Forget the hey days 

Dare you turn around 

To see if the past lurks

Behind the edge of this sunset 

Don’t look back at Barcelona

It was never your home 

Even Buccleuch couldn’t contain you

Stamford was the real deal 

But nothing is certain 

Everything is history 

Don’t look back 

For sweet memories 

Jackal Creek is not the end 

Just dont look back 

Even when you heart is hardened 

And you cannot explain 

the rush in your heart 

Don’t look back 

And fall dearly in love with yesterday 

It brought us here 

 Conversations is a series of poems adapted from conversations with Tshedza

Conversations: What about D?

Son, there is a world 

Out there

Lets go away

Where no one can separate us

What about D?

 Conversations is a series of poems adapted from conversations with Tshedza

Conversations: I came to fetch my ball

Daddy, I came  to fetch my ball

I forgot my ball yesterday

This is your home

You dont need a reason 

Conversations is a series of poems adapted from conversations with Tshedza

Conversations: Why don't you go home?

Is your sister in Venda?

I don't know?

Why don't you go Home?

Conversations is a series of poems adapted from conversations with Tshedza

Conversations: Wear my clothes

Daddy, can I wear your clothes?

You can wear anything
My clothes are yours
My journey is your journey
My story is our story 

Wear my clothes 
These sagging shorts are mine, wear them
These baggy tees are mine, wear them
Wear my clothes

Conversations is a series of poems adapted from conversations with Tshedza

Conversations: Where is mommy?

Dad, it is late
where is mommy?

Dady it is too late now
When is mommy coming back?

She went to Fourways
To prepare her Truth

Conversations is a series of poems adapted from conversations with Tshedza