Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

Number 68

Enlarge poem

I am not alone in thinking that there is magic in the cosmos, it is there.
Known yet unknown.
Half seen truths
that lay mysteriously
between the written and the counted
I covet to comprehend the nature of being
I yearn to understand it
our abundant hours of the mundane
are misguided I think,
I doubt that life was meant to be this unbeautiful
this unquestioned,
the reason for unhappiness
is that man searches for himself
in places where he does not exist
man is archaic, is he not?
He comes from the soil
then he looks for himself between concrete.
The stone and the mechanic are not your retort
this is why, your joy, is a mocking bird.

The mystic voyage directed by the anonymous captain,
a mystery even the dead may not be able to solve
I pray
in faith and in light
that my eyelids will rise
to look fearlessly in the eyes of a stranger
and say
“You! … You have some explaining to do

Fadzai Nova Dube

Featured Poem:

The Edge of Morality and Grace

Enlarge poem

I drank wine last night
a bottle of my sentient red wine last night
pen and paper …. unfinished sentences on the floor
opal stones and ivory bones on the floor
realities and dreams on the floor
room lights dim, open door last night
deepness to the brims of my art last night
floating on sweet red wine.
On the floor I sat with legs open last night
he came into the room, saw me floating last night
he stared at me and said
“Your legs look like they once belonged to a whore, please close them. If you saw what I am seeing right now.. you would hate yourself”

I stared back at him….

My lips and mouth cracked
as if my devils had murdered all the sweet
slurred thoughts took away all my sweet
I would not gift any sweet tonight
NO! I replied YOU hate WHAT you are seeing
My character is not limited to the sweetest of my face
there is an artist here
there is a free spirit here
who constructs and deconstructs her life and you hate that

You see me and you see your own dreams
you dream of what I could be for you
you want the parts you like and you want to kill the rest, just kill the rest
you want to experience yourself
and that is not who I am
You cannot pattern me to fit your own desires
just as your male body is incapable of bearing fruit
it would be fruitless if you tried to wall my being
my 9 months cannot be compared to your 2mins
so take advice from your penis
and recline back to where you came from

Since the dawn of the first day
men and sadly women as well
have tried to contain the feminine
females have been tugged on the arms by families, religions, conventions and culture
because they refused to lay on their backs with obedient moans

I know the truth of your power woman
I know the truth of your nature
nature holds no favours
a king can be killed by an elephant or fucking coconut

I choose to move with nature
My cycle and the moon’s are one, circular returns beginning and ending at the same point in time.
out of my mouth I pour songs of love that would fill peace until the brims of your heart.
my hands, will caress ever fabric of your skin, so that every hair on your being shall know my fingerprints
for I am the cord from which you came from
I am the serpent wrapped around that tree
Athena, the Greek Goddess of war
would abandon her spear to taste me
for while men fight wars on fields
women fight wars everywhere
and I would rather die than fight a war within myself

There is none more dangerous than the intelligent woman
she lives on the edges of morality and grace
crafting reality out of fantasies
making this judgemental world her home
each time a book is placed into a woman’s hands
men create distractions in the fear that they will have to go back to the nature they came from
so they say woman
you need to be as beautiful as that woman
you should not take up to much space woman
you should be quieter for you are a woman
put your book on your head, learn to walk nicely, focus on the mirror, please me
else you are unworthy in the eyes of men
else I’ll make you a whore in the mouths of men
My sexuality is my own and my worth is not dependant on how many men have an opinion of it.

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (0)
  • Pride (2)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (0)
  • Delight (0)
  • Inspiration (1)
  • Reflection (1)
  • Captivation (2)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (0)
  • Vigour (0)
  • Hope (0)
  • Sadness (1)
  • Fear (0)
  • Jubilation (0)

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Biography

Fadzai Nova Dube is a writer and philosopher. She was born in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe and is of Shona origin. She relocated to East London, South Africa at the age of 5. In 2007, Fadzai moved to Cape Town to complete a B.A in film and Media at the University of Cape Town.

She currently lives in Pretoria, South Africa with her two German Shepherds and is currently working on her first fiction novel.

Fadzai Nova Dube

Biography

Fadzai Nova Dube is a writer and philosopher. She was born in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe and is of Shona origin. She relocated to East London, South Africa at the age of 5. In 2007, Fadzai moved to Cape Town to complete a B.A in film and Media at the University of Cape Town.

She currently lives in Pretoria, South Africa with her two German Shepherds and is currently working on her first fiction novel.

Number 68

Enlarge poem

I am not alone in thinking that there is magic in the cosmos, it is there.
Known yet unknown.
Half seen truths
that lay mysteriously
between the written and the counted
I covet to comprehend the nature of being
I yearn to understand it
our abundant hours of the mundane
are misguided I think,
I doubt that life was meant to be this unbeautiful
this unquestioned,
the reason for unhappiness
is that man searches for himself
in places where he does not exist
man is archaic, is he not?
He comes from the soil
then he looks for himself between concrete.
The stone and the mechanic are not your retort
this is why, your joy, is a mocking bird.

The mystic voyage directed by the anonymous captain,
a mystery even the dead may not be able to solve
I pray
in faith and in light
that my eyelids will rise
to look fearlessly in the eyes of a stranger
and say
“You! … You have some explaining to do

Featured Poem:

The Edge of Morality and Grace

Enlarge poem

I drank wine last night
a bottle of my sentient red wine last night
pen and paper …. unfinished sentences on the floor
opal stones and ivory bones on the floor
realities and dreams on the floor
room lights dim, open door last night
deepness to the brims of my art last night
floating on sweet red wine.
On the floor I sat with legs open last night
he came into the room, saw me floating last night
he stared at me and said
“Your legs look like they once belonged to a whore, please close them. If you saw what I am seeing right now.. you would hate yourself”

I stared back at him….

My lips and mouth cracked
as if my devils had murdered all the sweet
slurred thoughts took away all my sweet
I would not gift any sweet tonight
NO! I replied YOU hate WHAT you are seeing
My character is not limited to the sweetest of my face
there is an artist here
there is a free spirit here
who constructs and deconstructs her life and you hate that

You see me and you see your own dreams
you dream of what I could be for you
you want the parts you like and you want to kill the rest, just kill the rest
you want to experience yourself
and that is not who I am
You cannot pattern me to fit your own desires
just as your male body is incapable of bearing fruit
it would be fruitless if you tried to wall my being
my 9 months cannot be compared to your 2mins
so take advice from your penis
and recline back to where you came from

Since the dawn of the first day
men and sadly women as well
have tried to contain the feminine
females have been tugged on the arms by families, religions, conventions and culture
because they refused to lay on their backs with obedient moans

I know the truth of your power woman
I know the truth of your nature
nature holds no favours
a king can be killed by an elephant or fucking coconut

I choose to move with nature
My cycle and the moon’s are one, circular returns beginning and ending at the same point in time.
out of my mouth I pour songs of love that would fill peace until the brims of your heart.
my hands, will caress ever fabric of your skin, so that every hair on your being shall know my fingerprints
for I am the cord from which you came from
I am the serpent wrapped around that tree
Athena, the Greek Goddess of war
would abandon her spear to taste me
for while men fight wars on fields
women fight wars everywhere
and I would rather die than fight a war within myself

There is none more dangerous than the intelligent woman
she lives on the edges of morality and grace
crafting reality out of fantasies
making this judgemental world her home
each time a book is placed into a woman’s hands
men create distractions in the fear that they will have to go back to the nature they came from
so they say woman
you need to be as beautiful as that woman
you should not take up to much space woman
you should be quieter for you are a woman
put your book on your head, learn to walk nicely, focus on the mirror, please me
else you are unworthy in the eyes of men
else I’ll make you a whore in the mouths of men
My sexuality is my own and my worth is not dependant on how many men have an opinion of it.

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (0)
  • Pride (2)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (0)
  • Delight (0)
  • Inspiration (1)
  • Reflection (1)
  • Captivation (2)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (0)
  • Vigour (0)
  • Hope (0)
  • Sadness (1)
  • Fear (0)
  • Jubilation (0)

Number 68

Enlarge poem

I am not alone in thinking that there is magic in the cosmos, it is there.
Known yet unknown.
Half seen truths
that lay mysteriously
between the written and the counted
I covet to comprehend the nature of being
I yearn to understand it
our abundant hours of the mundane
are misguided I think,
I doubt that life was meant to be this unbeautiful
this unquestioned,
the reason for unhappiness
is that man searches for himself
in places where he does not exist
man is archaic, is he not?
He comes from the soil
then he looks for himself between concrete.
The stone and the mechanic are not your retort
this is why, your joy, is a mocking bird.

The mystic voyage directed by the anonymous captain,
a mystery even the dead may not be able to solve
I pray
in faith and in light
that my eyelids will rise
to look fearlessly in the eyes of a stranger
and say
“You! … You have some explaining to do

Comments

Your email address will not be published.