Raindrops On My Window Payne

Drips of rain drop
Colourless heavy drops
Splatter maps with no sense

Drops of heavy rain
Draw routes on my payne
Maybe if I take this route
My road will be easy and free

But if I go that way
Then my blues will washed away

Should I stick to what I know?
And miss the chance of adventure?
The unknown and dangerous route?

But territory will not expand
My limiter will be pleased
My destiny remain unreached

Yes I will risk it
Ask forbidden questions
Trod forgotten paths

Someone must have tried but failed
Somebody must have willed but fell short
Andbody could have started but stopped

But will I?
Will I finish the route of the rain drops?

Believer

For a moment you were forgotten
Misrepresented
Painted a failure
Viewed hopeless
A barren woman
Who feeds on her foetus

For years you were unknown
Buried under the rubub of ignorance
Your own denied you
A scorned woman of shame
Seen as abomination
A scar so smelly it could not be cured
So they thought

For decades you were buried
Shelved as dry and desolate
A place of hunger and death
Lacking in intelligence and honour
So they said

Your maker has come for you
To take away your shame
To restore back your pride
To show forth your original state
For your maker fashioned you
Your builder molded you

Africa this is your time
Your moment
Throw away the robe of shame
Put on your garment of glory
Arise Africa Arise

Y.O.U

I had a glimpse of you last night
Your face reflected by the moon
Wind blowing peacefully besides you
You looked blissful, my heart did a leap

Your eyes closed oh so tightly
Your lips pursed oh so acute
Your head bent oh so gingerly
Your chest heaving oh so lovely

Then love overwhelmed me
I could not help but cry
Then God spoke to me
My eyes watered

Could you be like this forever?
Bring joy to me whenever
Could you please bowl me over?
Never leave my side ever

Tell me...
Can love be selfish for one moment
And want beauty all to itself
Can rules be bent just for this hour
And make this moment ours
Forever...

Teach me Africa

Teach me I want to learn
All things happened before
Wars fought and won
Battles contended and praised

Show me I want to earn
So my offspring can be sure
That history is not dead and gone
Its time has not lapsed

Guide me I want to gain
Knowledge of things ago
Of righteoud men torn
To pieces by man that passed

I want to know of treaties signed
Of decrees declared
Of revolutions unheard
Search with me
Documents hidden
Information classified
Cases opened and closed

Tell me about my forefathers
Their habits and seasons
How the stars guide them
How the moon spoke to them
And when the sun stood still

Did Nqwiliso die a captive?
Or was it his fellowmen
What about uMendi?
Was it a bosched trip?
Or a planned sea burial?

Let me know
Feed my brain
talk to my soul
Saturate my spirit

Another Piece of Me

I am my father's daughter
My mother's child
I am a sibling and an aunt

I am a friend to some
A nobody to fools
I am a woman born of a man
A lady born of a woman

I am made of my past
A product of my choices
I am by God's grace an overcomer
By man's measure just somebody

I was born eMabaleni
A village flanked by the majestic Tabankulu
Raised by the river Indwe
Fed by the great iTsitsa and iTina

I am a girl eKhangela
A women eAfrika
I am a living soul
A moving body
An unquiet spirit

In my heart I can see
The sun rising over eLusikisiki
And setting eZibhodini
I am made of this
And this makes me

Ok the part I dont like much. But anyway.

Me Myself and I

I have walked this road
I have seen faces come and go
Hearts beat and stop
Eyes open and close

I have watched this life
And tried to cont ed with the strife
That separates good from bad
Experienced the new and the never had

I have listened to birds
Announcing season changes without words
Doing what they were created for
Quipping their fellow creatures to go
Find greener pastures way yonder

I have seen mercy
Experienced love
I have com to know lately
That there is some thing peaceful about the dove
Its calming grey and white
The cooing that knows no day or night

I know now that love will find a way
I Know today is my day
And tomorrow is uncertain
Hiding unknown behind tonight's  curtain

Words

Say them, feel them
Call them as they come
Fresh life giving springs
Springing forth breathing life

Vibrations in my mind and body
Tantalising senses
Vitalised brain

Locked up in the sphere
Words bubbling out
Packed and congested
Mixed up and rumbling

Like a mind locking storm
Threatning to challenge norms
Bursting with no restaint
Streaks of black and blue in its wake

Words that give and take back
Words that promise good and bad
Life so joyous
Words so pompous

Bitter edible words
Inner able man
See them as they come
Watch them as they go

Words of old
Words of today
Words that last
Words that take and give
Words that ache and live

Words, words, words
Go on and on and on....

Lessons

I want to see, hear, know, understand
My mind is asking questions
My heart has no answer
I seek in darkness
Yet no truth is good enough

When your light shines over me
My own becomes darkness
Your breath covers me
Mine cannot be drawn

You are my survival
My yoke and my strength
You pick me up and hold me close
You allow me to breathe
And my senses are renewed
You love me too much
But this I cannot explain

A love that was

She sits in the dark of her room
Wishing and praying
About the light in her gloom
Hoping and wondering
She hopes that her groom
Is working and paying
His way out of doom
Disturbed by the sound of the zoom
A car honking and revving
She hopes that her broom
Will save her from a beating
Maybe this time she's been good
Cooking and cleaning
Preparing nourishing food
Trying and trying
To get in his good books
Failing but trying
Recalling his good looks
Gone and faded
Maybe its the crooks
Of deception and denail
That brought them to the woods
Of destruction and desparation

Find

Truth nibbled by lies
Knowledge ravaged by ignorance
Reason silenced by noise
Where to go
What route to take

Our world is engulfed by ignorance
The blind leading the blind
The deep calling the deep

Knowledge and wisdom are like a diamond
Hard to find, hard to keep

Search son of man search
Search oh beautiful daughter of the soil
Your histroy, your ancestory
Your essence, your roots
Dig through those foundations
Make a name, be a name

My love, My Africa

I want to be able to look in your back
And marvel at the workings of the outer skin
That covers bones, flesh and sinews
And wonder if river nile is Africa's backbone

I want to look at the back of your head
And wonder how such tiny pores can be numbered
And watch in awe the curving of your neck
Questioning whether Ethiopia is her back or front

I want to look at your collar bones
And laugh at the two potruding bones
Are they meant to be the hills and valleys in the map of your body?

I want to love, cry and laugh
I want to know you and befriend you
Talk about your tippy Cape Town
And your edgy Cairo
Your warrying Nigeria or your desolate Zimbabwe
I want to know each and everyone of you

She Dances

It started with Nofikile
Right there in the hills of Engcobo
She was known for her enchanting rythmic bouncing
Tat'umfundisi* would feel the spirit burning his lungs
As Songezo's wife swayed and turned
Feeling her snayimesi* like a lovelorn ijoyini*

She would bob her head with her left foot suspended mid-air
There would all be mesmerized
"sis'Fiks can move" they would say

You see at the time Fiks did not know
Neither did Songezo son of Mazombo
That she was carrying a girl later named Andiswa

Andiswa has always moved
Through the night vigils in her mother's womb with her snaymesi*
She had swayed and moved with the rythm of stomping feet
The yululating voices and the melody of the methodists songs

She still moves
To the vynls of the dj's working
Her hips seem to be linked to his scratching
She moves as if anticipating his next turn
Her music, like the autum wind on a laundry line
In synch with her body flows effortlessly

She moves like a butterfly souring and surveying the sunshine
She flows like a stream after fresh spring rain

Burning Wood

I love burning wood
There is something about it that tingles my being
The crackling humming sound by fire
Flames consuming a huge dry bulk
Crack, crack, crack every now and again

My dad liked fire
During the day when he cooked inkobe(mealies)
A meal he believed was easy and feeling
He would hum his tuneless song
Collecting firewood and cracking dry twigs

In the evenings alone in his hut
With fire and a lone candle for company
Dad would hum his tuneless song

He never looked like he needed company
The flames and his song were enough
The flames and the crackling wood spoke to him, with him

It spoke of distance shores
Of dreams unfullfilled
Of life's limitations

Everytime I see dry wood
I want to burn it
And continue that conversation to the end
To get to those distant shores
Achieve those dreams
And exceed expectations

My Pal

My pen my paper
My friend keeps me company
Questions answered
Thoughts acknowledged

My paper my pen
Hiding my misery
Burying my thoughts
Pouring my heart
Ink expression

Take me there
Where my thoughts rule
Where my voice is heard
My reasoning acknowledged
Fears abated

Carry me
To the neverland
Where fear has no power
And failure a lonely sole

Guide me through
The land of the unknown
Where words are friends
ABC the ruler
XYZ the doorkeeper

Take my hand
Guide me through
Carry me
Walk with me
Step by step

Life As We Know It

Is life meant to be enjoyed?


Or maybe endured?

Were we misinformed?

Or are feeling ourselves?



Is life a continous torture?

Or an ominous folklore?

Was ot all an old woman's tale?

Or maybe just too frail?



Does good really result in good rewards?

Or righteousness breed demands?

Someone must have lied

And left us tied

In the foolishness of our understanding

A big mistake of understating

Hope

I cry, beg, scream


I give up, let go, forsake

I reason, ponder, rethink

Hope holds my hand



Hope is an intruder

Waits for no invite

A gatecrasher



I tire, pant, gasp

I long for rest, a breather, a brake

My body sways, knees give away

my hands loose grip

Hope holds my hand and drags me

The Weaver

Controlled by tides of emotion

Led by patterns of the mind

The weaver weaves on



Lips tightly pressed

Eyes squinted on the job

The weaver weaves on



Speed increases with rhythm

Slows down on vision

Time to change colour

Through to the next hour



The blue meets the red

The sea catches the bird

Beautiful work of tapestry

Hidden in the heart of a weaver

The Porter

The Porter




Qiuetly, steadily he works

Secretly in the haven on his mind

Tru to his heart he forms

Securely deep in his soul the find



Sought in a dream

Flowing like a stream

Brought to realm



Who knows the heart of an artist?

For the artist finds that place sacred

Never to be touched but revered

For it is too deep to comprehend

Too scary to understand

Stillness left untouched

Volcanic and untamed

Photo gazing

When I look at her, clinging to her dad's hand. The little girl. Her mom must have been still alive then, because she looks between the ages of three and four.


Why did daddy decide to take the photo with her? She wonders.

And who is the other guy with them?

Maybe mom was already late, hence she is not in the photo.



She looks so innocent, untainted and comfortable in her own skin. Not too confident though, just at ease.



What happened to her? What changed?



Maybe its the taunts she got from people who continously convinced her that she was not good enough. Boys at school who were more interested in her friends than her. They would snigger and whisper not-so-discreetly that she was way too skinny.



Maybe it was her friends who refused to share lunch with her. Because her bread (if there was any) would be dry sometimes with no magarine or peanut butter. They would politely refuse while eyeing each other as if this was discussed before.



Slowly she moved into her shell. She became guarded around people. They made her nervous and uncomfortable. She would feel so bare and vulnerable around them.

It was as if they could see that she sometimes went all day without food and thought it was her fault. That at home she was called all kinds of vile names. As if they knew she slept on holed blankets.



And all that made her not worthy of their attention. She wished they could understand that she really wanted to be ignored, just pretend she does not exist.



But people would pay attention to her anyway.They would comment on how ugly she was and some would think she was a boy.



At school she was an expert on the playground.These skills were horned through dodgery of hunger pains. In class she was always on top. And this territorry she guarded with envy. It was the only thing she could hold claim to.

Like Sam this was her crown of glory. Everybody at home paid attention when her results came back. Even if it was for an hour, it was all worth it.

But that did not cure her demons. Slowly into her shell she slipped.



The little girl on the photo, clinging in her father's hand.

At ease and comfortable.

Content and protected.

And then she smiled

Of all the loveliness that surrounds the world


Of all the beauty that the eye beholds

The beauty that transcends the looking eye

That mesmirises the thought that I

As a mere human can witness such

That no amount of utterance can comprehend

The beauty of her smile....