Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

Writers Block

Enlarge poem

My strength lies in the wide unspoken fabric
Of imagination.
Wrapped up tight in
Deep insinuation,
Remarkably polite in free
Determination to
Offload the world’s predisposition for
Assumptions and hard questions
Culminating in a mass ascension
Towards a tiresome existence
Marked by total lack
Of imagination.

But just give me an instant audience,
So I can perform and do
Away with this feeling
of forlorn.

Do not to love me any less
If I no longer effervesce
It’s the damn meds
They created this mess
Took away my words
And left me in distress

My pen takes flight as I put to paper
and write
I long for my bejeweled words
I tell myself as I curse inwardly, towards
The spell that lingers well within me
looking for opportunity to spring free
from

Mortal love that cannot find a way and
mortal beings that can’t defy their state
And so encapsulate their worldly aches.
Might they learn to find a rhythm
That defies the chasm separating
The unborn dead from the living?

Torn are the spirits, forlorn are the infinite stars
That look upon a devilish curse shrouded
by benign blessings, rare gems of indescribable joy
Are the words.
My words.
My delicate pearls.
My strong jewels.

Don’t love me any less
If I no longer effervesce
It’s the damn meds
They created this mess.
Took away my words
And left me in distress.

As I woke in the dead of the night
Gasping for air and
Grasping for light
I woke with a surge that
Separated heaven from my hell
I heard the echoes of a moan
Before they tore through my throat
and agony rang out as I recalled
How the unknown horror unfolded.

So they put me on these meds
That created this mess
Took away my words
And left me in distress.
Don’t love me any less
Now that I no longer effervesce…

Langa Sarakikya

Featured Poem:

Enrapture Captured

Enlarge poem

Glorious rain reminds me of
something true,
thunderous pain reduced to a
grainy residue,
washed away in jazzy notes
of tender blue.

Its not in vain if nothing
obscures the view,
if warmth is shared through
and through
and if the grasp of embrace
leaves a trace…

All that’s missing is you…

A cool rainy night like this
demands endless lovemaking
to exhaustion
to distraction
like a frenzied dance
that doesn’t happen by chance
but thick with enchantment
oozing silence with
few requirements other than
guttural vocal satisfaction
when experiencing god’s given
endowments
over and over.

No stopovers
no tag team maneuvers
one on one
one on glorious one
one on intimate one.
Enrapture captured.

langa badilisha

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (4)
  • Pride (1)
  • Optimism (2)
  • Anger (1)
  • Delight (2)
  • Inspiration (2)
  • Reflection (3)
  • Captivation (2)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (0)
  • Vigour (1)
  • Hope (1)
  • Sadness (0)
  • Fear (2)
  • Jubilation (2)

Comments

Your email address will not be published.

Biography

Langa Sarakikya is a 38 year old single working mother of two children. For her, words are jewels to be respected and valued, their power never to be underestimated. Each word represents a magnificent jewel that when strung together in a particular pattern with other jewels, creates a unique stunning necklace to be worn and displayed with humility and emotion.

Langa has bipolar disorder, a mental illness that can take a person from extreme highs to extreme lows. Much of what she writes is inspired by extreme moods that allow her creativity to manifest in ways that are grounded in Truth. Her own Truth.

Langa has been writing short stories, poems, and keeping a journal since she was a young child but has never been published. She writes to fulfill her own urge to get words down on paper and in so doing expresses herself and achieves a level of satisfaction that nothing else can deliver.

Langa Sarakikya

langa badilisha
langa badilisha

Biography

Langa Sarakikya is a 38 year old single working mother of two children. For her, words are jewels to be respected and valued, their power never to be underestimated. Each word represents a magnificent jewel that when strung together in a particular pattern with other jewels, creates a unique stunning necklace to be worn and displayed with humility and emotion.

Langa has bipolar disorder, a mental illness that can take a person from extreme highs to extreme lows. Much of what she writes is inspired by extreme moods that allow her creativity to manifest in ways that are grounded in Truth. Her own Truth.

Langa has been writing short stories, poems, and keeping a journal since she was a young child but has never been published. She writes to fulfill her own urge to get words down on paper and in so doing expresses herself and achieves a level of satisfaction that nothing else can deliver.

Writers Block

Enlarge poem

My strength lies in the wide unspoken fabric
Of imagination.
Wrapped up tight in
Deep insinuation,
Remarkably polite in free
Determination to
Offload the world’s predisposition for
Assumptions and hard questions
Culminating in a mass ascension
Towards a tiresome existence
Marked by total lack
Of imagination.

But just give me an instant audience,
So I can perform and do
Away with this feeling
of forlorn.

Do not to love me any less
If I no longer effervesce
It’s the damn meds
They created this mess
Took away my words
And left me in distress

My pen takes flight as I put to paper
and write
I long for my bejeweled words
I tell myself as I curse inwardly, towards
The spell that lingers well within me
looking for opportunity to spring free
from

Mortal love that cannot find a way and
mortal beings that can’t defy their state
And so encapsulate their worldly aches.
Might they learn to find a rhythm
That defies the chasm separating
The unborn dead from the living?

Torn are the spirits, forlorn are the infinite stars
That look upon a devilish curse shrouded
by benign blessings, rare gems of indescribable joy
Are the words.
My words.
My delicate pearls.
My strong jewels.

Don’t love me any less
If I no longer effervesce
It’s the damn meds
They created this mess.
Took away my words
And left me in distress.

As I woke in the dead of the night
Gasping for air and
Grasping for light
I woke with a surge that
Separated heaven from my hell
I heard the echoes of a moan
Before they tore through my throat
and agony rang out as I recalled
How the unknown horror unfolded.

So they put me on these meds
That created this mess
Took away my words
And left me in distress.
Don’t love me any less
Now that I no longer effervesce…

Featured Poem:

Enrapture Captured

Enlarge poem

Glorious rain reminds me of
something true,
thunderous pain reduced to a
grainy residue,
washed away in jazzy notes
of tender blue.

Its not in vain if nothing
obscures the view,
if warmth is shared through
and through
and if the grasp of embrace
leaves a trace…

All that’s missing is you…

A cool rainy night like this
demands endless lovemaking
to exhaustion
to distraction
like a frenzied dance
that doesn’t happen by chance
but thick with enchantment
oozing silence with
few requirements other than
guttural vocal satisfaction
when experiencing god’s given
endowments
over and over.

No stopovers
no tag team maneuvers
one on one
one on glorious one
one on intimate one.
Enrapture captured.

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (4)
  • Pride (1)
  • Optimism (2)
  • Anger (1)
  • Delight (2)
  • Inspiration (2)
  • Reflection (3)
  • Captivation (2)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (0)
  • Vigour (1)
  • Hope (1)
  • Sadness (0)
  • Fear (2)
  • Jubilation (2)

Writers Block

Enlarge poem

My strength lies in the wide unspoken fabric
Of imagination.
Wrapped up tight in
Deep insinuation,
Remarkably polite in free
Determination to
Offload the world’s predisposition for
Assumptions and hard questions
Culminating in a mass ascension
Towards a tiresome existence
Marked by total lack
Of imagination.

But just give me an instant audience,
So I can perform and do
Away with this feeling
of forlorn.

Do not to love me any less
If I no longer effervesce
It’s the damn meds
They created this mess
Took away my words
And left me in distress

My pen takes flight as I put to paper
and write
I long for my bejeweled words
I tell myself as I curse inwardly, towards
The spell that lingers well within me
looking for opportunity to spring free
from

Mortal love that cannot find a way and
mortal beings that can’t defy their state
And so encapsulate their worldly aches.
Might they learn to find a rhythm
That defies the chasm separating
The unborn dead from the living?

Torn are the spirits, forlorn are the infinite stars
That look upon a devilish curse shrouded
by benign blessings, rare gems of indescribable joy
Are the words.
My words.
My delicate pearls.
My strong jewels.

Don’t love me any less
If I no longer effervesce
It’s the damn meds
They created this mess.
Took away my words
And left me in distress.

As I woke in the dead of the night
Gasping for air and
Grasping for light
I woke with a surge that
Separated heaven from my hell
I heard the echoes of a moan
Before they tore through my throat
and agony rang out as I recalled
How the unknown horror unfolded.

So they put me on these meds
That created this mess
Took away my words
And left me in distress.
Don’t love me any less
Now that I no longer effervesce…

Comments

Your email address will not be published.