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Welcome to Writers of Zimbabwe!
  Your words are power!
Join our community of writers young and old and improve your writing skills.
Please look around and if you'd like us to let us add anything more, let
us know. Help us to make this the most happening writers site on the continent
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We look forward to reading your work. |
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You give me hope despite the pain
When i have to face yet another day
No matter what they do they can't take that away<
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This a poem which looks at African Rennaisance. Whether we sit down and not do anything, development is coming over to Africa.
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“So you say Bigboy and his enlightened wife are not attending their grandfather’s funeral? They have written a letter saying they can’t afford the bus fares to just come and bury a ‘useless’ old man? Bigboy will not bury my father?” headman Chikudo shook his head again and again. As he talked he was seated in the middle of circle of village elders who had come to assist him in burying his dead father. The headman’s father had died two days ago of old age. A message had been sent to the city to inform Bigboy, the headman’s eldest son of the sad news. They had delayed burial of the old man as they awaited the arrival of the eldest grandchild. Instead the later wrote a letter explaining his difficult situation.
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Tough stuff, stones, especially the rolling ones
Turned in my pocket's fingers.
A touch of home.
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My life
Began with you
Each day,
each second
Spent with you
Is amoment
I relish
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We were all tears as she arrived. When she left us for the U.S we had also cried, for obvious reasons. But now we were crying cos she wasn’t smiling as she alighted from the plane, and our elder brother wasn’t with her.
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I hate you
Because I love you
This is wrong
Because it feels
So right
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Who Do We Blame?
The governor of the people of this universe,
Your highness, forgive us your poor ones.
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O, Sweet Butterfly ---
How many times have we made love in the labyrinth of time and space?
Yet, you still desert me like a church fart
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'Phases' by Fungai Machirori
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My senses atrophy in silence,
Roaring, rotating to a bland full stop,
The lines halt -
The bloody carnage and wreck of severed thoughts are torched to soft ash.
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Shouting it Loud! |
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