Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

Anthem of the Black Poet

Enlarge poem

the succulent breast of mother africa oozes with the milk of black renaissance
the rich womb of africa germinates seeds of black consciousness
the black blood bubbles with identity of africanness
the sweat of my brows flows with the revolutions from slavery to independence

i am the black poet
i am the black poet
black valleys bloom with flowers of nehandaness
african horizons shine with the rays of nkurumahness
black streets coloured with rainbows of mandelaness
black soil creamed with the wisdom of mugabeness
black spears sharpened with the conscience of bikoness

i am the black poet
i sing of black culture bleaching in oceans of coca cola
i sing of black culture fried in cauldrons of floridization
i sing of black culture gambled in the dark streets of sunset hills
i sing of black culture burning in computer ages

i am the black poet
i sing of kings and their people
i sing of black kings and their people
i sing of the dead souls of black history
i sing of the rising spirits of black renaissance
i sing of the rising souls of black consciousness
i sing for the rising spirits of pan-africanness

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the riverbed flowing with the mucus of age

i am the affidavit of black empowerment that requires your stamp
i am the title deed of black emancipation that needs your signature
i am the memorandum of black reparations that needs your fingerprint
i am the certificate of black repatriation that needs your identity card

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the river bed flowing with the mucus of age

my mind is a drainage pipe pumping out acids of mental suppression
my mind is a drainage pipe pumping out cyanides of racial discrimination
my mind is a drainage pipe pumping nitrates of economic dispossession

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the riverbed flowing with the mucus of age

my gun is the rose of our freedom
my bullet is the nectar of our reconciliation
my bomb is the petal of our democracy
my gun is our 1980 celebrations
my bullet is our 1987 political revision

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the river bed flowing with the mucus of age

is abortion a solution to overpopulation
is demolition a solution to pollution
is corruption a shortcut to poverty reduction
is balkanization a shortcut to colonization
is condomization a shotcut to hiv mitigation

HIV/AIDS has become a business
an import and export product like coca cola in america and nokia in berlin

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the the river bed flowing with the mucus of age

Mbizo Chirasha

Featured Poem:

Tribute to African Writers

Enlarge poem

For I wrote so long a letter to Mayombe and Anowa
That I will marry when I want
For the beautiful ones are not yet born
While we wait for the rain
In the coming of the dry season
Behind the anthills of savannah,
Milking the cows of Shambati, gathering good bits of wood,
And the fortunes of Wangarini, in the forests with a thousand demons
A sleep walking land, for things had fallen apart
We faced the wrath of the ancestors, bones and shadows
For it was not any easy walk to freedom
With Farai’s girls, Nehanda and the son of the soil,
In that long journey of popynongena, we met Matigari,
And the tycoon from Peter Maritzburg, and the poor Christ of Bomba
We saw the devil dangling on the cross and his blooming petals of blood
We had the arrows of God
We wanted to kill the mangy dog
In the river between was this a war of freedom?
Indaba my children
We sang the song of Lawino and Ocol
Walking down Second Avenue
Fighting to decolonize the minds of the people
We became the house of hunger
In the country of our own
The butterfly was burning
In the burning summer season, we never ate the grain of wheat
For we harvested thorns and nervous conditions
Cry my beloved country, country of my skull
Nehanda still snores even after the struggle of Zimbabwe.

mbizo chirasha

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (3)
  • Pride (7)
  • Optimism (3)
  • Anger (1)
  • Delight (0)
  • Inspiration (2)
  • Reflection (0)
  • Captivation (2)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (0)
  • Vigour (0)
  • Hope (3)
  • Sadness (1)
  • Fear (0)
  • Jubilation (0)

Comments

  1. its good to be associated with Badilisha poetry project. The site is improving well and inspiring.

    Mbizo Chirasha

Your email address will not be published.

Biography

Mbizo Chirasha is an acclaimed wordsmith, performances poet, widely published poet and writer. He is the Founder and Creative Director of several creative initiatives and projects, including Young writers Caravan Project, This is Africa Poetry Night 2006 – 2008, Zimbabwe Amateur Poetry conference 2007 – 2010, African Drums Poetry Festival 2007, GirlChildCreativity Project 2011- Current, GirlchildTalent Festival 2012.

The widely traveled poet and creative projects consultant is widely published in more than 60 journals, anthologies, websites, reviews, newspapers, blogs and poetry collections around the world. Some of the countries he traveled include Ghana, Sweden, Egypt, Tanzania, South Africa, Mozambique, Namibia, Zambia and Malawi.

The poet have done a number of official NGO creative interventions and consultancy programmes with Social Family Health (Namibia 2009 – 2010) on a HIV/Aids Documentary Project, Catholic Relief Services Zimbabwe 2006 on a HIV/Aids Nutrition Project, Swedish Cooperative Centre 2006 on Arts against Drought (Zimbabwe).

His writings are published in Canada, Germany, Norway, South Africa, Turkey, Ghana, Kenya, Namibia, Zimbabwe, America, India, Wales, London, Nigeria and other countries. He co-authored Whispering woes of Ganges and Zambezi with Sweta Vikram from New York in 2010. His poetry collection Good Morning President was published by Diaspora publishers UK in 2011.

In 2001- 2003 Mbizo was the Membership Drive officer for Budding writers Association of Zimbabwe. In 2000 was Outreach Agent for Zimbabwe Book Development Council, Delegate of Zimbabwe international Book fair to Goteborg international book fair /Sweden in 2003, Delegate of Zebra publishing House, Namibia to Unesco Photo Novel Writing Project in Tanzania 2009, Poet in Residence of International Conference of African Culture Development in Ghana 2009,Producer/Coordinator of I am the Artist project, an Artist in Residence program by Zimbabwe Germany Society /Goethe Zentrum.

He holds Writing Skills and Editorial Expertise certificates courtesy of BWAZ/SAIH-Norway. Mbizo works as a poet/writer in residency, Readership and literacy culture development Advocate, Media Relations Strategist, Live Literature Producer and Creative Projects Consultant.

Mbizo Chirasha

mbizo chirasha
mbizo chirasha

Biography

Mbizo Chirasha is an acclaimed wordsmith, performances poet, widely published poet and writer. He is the Founder and Creative Director of several creative initiatives and projects, including Young writers Caravan Project, This is Africa Poetry Night 2006 – 2008, Zimbabwe Amateur Poetry conference 2007 – 2010, African Drums Poetry Festival 2007, GirlChildCreativity Project 2011- Current, GirlchildTalent Festival 2012.

The widely traveled poet and creative projects consultant is widely published in more than 60 journals, anthologies, websites, reviews, newspapers, blogs and poetry collections around the world. Some of the countries he traveled include Ghana, Sweden, Egypt, Tanzania, South Africa, Mozambique, Namibia, Zambia and Malawi.

The poet have done a number of official NGO creative interventions and consultancy programmes with Social Family Health (Namibia 2009 – 2010) on a HIV/Aids Documentary Project, Catholic Relief Services Zimbabwe 2006 on a HIV/Aids Nutrition Project, Swedish Cooperative Centre 2006 on Arts against Drought (Zimbabwe).

His writings are published in Canada, Germany, Norway, South Africa, Turkey, Ghana, Kenya, Namibia, Zimbabwe, America, India, Wales, London, Nigeria and other countries. He co-authored Whispering woes of Ganges and Zambezi with Sweta Vikram from New York in 2010. His poetry collection Good Morning President was published by Diaspora publishers UK in 2011.

In 2001- 2003 Mbizo was the Membership Drive officer for Budding writers Association of Zimbabwe. In 2000 was Outreach Agent for Zimbabwe Book Development Council, Delegate of Zimbabwe international Book fair to Goteborg international book fair /Sweden in 2003, Delegate of Zebra publishing House, Namibia to Unesco Photo Novel Writing Project in Tanzania 2009, Poet in Residence of International Conference of African Culture Development in Ghana 2009,Producer/Coordinator of I am the Artist project, an Artist in Residence program by Zimbabwe Germany Society /Goethe Zentrum.

He holds Writing Skills and Editorial Expertise certificates courtesy of BWAZ/SAIH-Norway. Mbizo works as a poet/writer in residency, Readership and literacy culture development Advocate, Media Relations Strategist, Live Literature Producer and Creative Projects Consultant.

Anthem of the Black Poet

Enlarge poem

the succulent breast of mother africa oozes with the milk of black renaissance
the rich womb of africa germinates seeds of black consciousness
the black blood bubbles with identity of africanness
the sweat of my brows flows with the revolutions from slavery to independence

i am the black poet
i am the black poet
black valleys bloom with flowers of nehandaness
african horizons shine with the rays of nkurumahness
black streets coloured with rainbows of mandelaness
black soil creamed with the wisdom of mugabeness
black spears sharpened with the conscience of bikoness

i am the black poet
i sing of black culture bleaching in oceans of coca cola
i sing of black culture fried in cauldrons of floridization
i sing of black culture gambled in the dark streets of sunset hills
i sing of black culture burning in computer ages

i am the black poet
i sing of kings and their people
i sing of black kings and their people
i sing of the dead souls of black history
i sing of the rising spirits of black renaissance
i sing of the rising souls of black consciousness
i sing for the rising spirits of pan-africanness

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the riverbed flowing with the mucus of age

i am the affidavit of black empowerment that requires your stamp
i am the title deed of black emancipation that needs your signature
i am the memorandum of black reparations that needs your fingerprint
i am the certificate of black repatriation that needs your identity card

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the river bed flowing with the mucus of age

my mind is a drainage pipe pumping out acids of mental suppression
my mind is a drainage pipe pumping out cyanides of racial discrimination
my mind is a drainage pipe pumping nitrates of economic dispossession

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the riverbed flowing with the mucus of age

my gun is the rose of our freedom
my bullet is the nectar of our reconciliation
my bomb is the petal of our democracy
my gun is our 1980 celebrations
my bullet is our 1987 political revision

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the river bed flowing with the mucus of age

is abortion a solution to overpopulation
is demolition a solution to pollution
is corruption a shortcut to poverty reduction
is balkanization a shortcut to colonization
is condomization a shotcut to hiv mitigation

HIV/AIDS has become a business
an import and export product like coca cola in america and nokia in berlin

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the the river bed flowing with the mucus of age

Featured Poem:

Tribute to African Writers

Enlarge poem

For I wrote so long a letter to Mayombe and Anowa
That I will marry when I want
For the beautiful ones are not yet born
While we wait for the rain
In the coming of the dry season
Behind the anthills of savannah,
Milking the cows of Shambati, gathering good bits of wood,
And the fortunes of Wangarini, in the forests with a thousand demons
A sleep walking land, for things had fallen apart
We faced the wrath of the ancestors, bones and shadows
For it was not any easy walk to freedom
With Farai’s girls, Nehanda and the son of the soil,
In that long journey of popynongena, we met Matigari,
And the tycoon from Peter Maritzburg, and the poor Christ of Bomba
We saw the devil dangling on the cross and his blooming petals of blood
We had the arrows of God
We wanted to kill the mangy dog
In the river between was this a war of freedom?
Indaba my children
We sang the song of Lawino and Ocol
Walking down Second Avenue
Fighting to decolonize the minds of the people
We became the house of hunger
In the country of our own
The butterfly was burning
In the burning summer season, we never ate the grain of wheat
For we harvested thorns and nervous conditions
Cry my beloved country, country of my skull
Nehanda still snores even after the struggle of Zimbabwe.

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (3)
  • Pride (7)
  • Optimism (3)
  • Anger (1)
  • Delight (0)
  • Inspiration (2)
  • Reflection (0)
  • Captivation (2)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (0)
  • Vigour (0)
  • Hope (3)
  • Sadness (1)
  • Fear (0)
  • Jubilation (0)

Anthem of the Black Poet

Enlarge poem

the succulent breast of mother africa oozes with the milk of black renaissance
the rich womb of africa germinates seeds of black consciousness
the black blood bubbles with identity of africanness
the sweat of my brows flows with the revolutions from slavery to independence

i am the black poet
i am the black poet
black valleys bloom with flowers of nehandaness
african horizons shine with the rays of nkurumahness
black streets coloured with rainbows of mandelaness
black soil creamed with the wisdom of mugabeness
black spears sharpened with the conscience of bikoness

i am the black poet
i sing of black culture bleaching in oceans of coca cola
i sing of black culture fried in cauldrons of floridization
i sing of black culture gambled in the dark streets of sunset hills
i sing of black culture burning in computer ages

i am the black poet
i sing of kings and their people
i sing of black kings and their people
i sing of the dead souls of black history
i sing of the rising spirits of black renaissance
i sing of the rising souls of black consciousness
i sing for the rising spirits of pan-africanness

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the riverbed flowing with the mucus of age

i am the affidavit of black empowerment that requires your stamp
i am the title deed of black emancipation that needs your signature
i am the memorandum of black reparations that needs your fingerprint
i am the certificate of black repatriation that needs your identity card

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the river bed flowing with the mucus of age

my mind is a drainage pipe pumping out acids of mental suppression
my mind is a drainage pipe pumping out cyanides of racial discrimination
my mind is a drainage pipe pumping nitrates of economic dispossession

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the riverbed flowing with the mucus of age

my gun is the rose of our freedom
my bullet is the nectar of our reconciliation
my bomb is the petal of our democracy
my gun is our 1980 celebrations
my bullet is our 1987 political revision

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the river bed flowing with the mucus of age

is abortion a solution to overpopulation
is demolition a solution to pollution
is corruption a shortcut to poverty reduction
is balkanization a shortcut to colonization
is condomization a shotcut to hiv mitigation

HIV/AIDS has become a business
an import and export product like coca cola in america and nokia in berlin

i am the stone you left for the dead
i am the tree bark oozing with the blood of age
i am the the river bed flowing with the mucus of age

Comments

  1. its good to be associated with Badilisha poetry project. The site is improving well and inspiring.

    Mbizo Chirasha

Your email address will not be published.