Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

Write

Enlarge poem

Write
Thatʼs all I ask of you. Just to write.
Thatʼs all I need you to do
Iʼm not asking you to be something youʼre not However, all I know is that writers write.
Yes! Fight with your emotions. Be angry. Be sad. Be hurt.
Be crazy. Be fun. Be excited. Be expectant. Be hopeful. Just. Be.
Iʼm awaiting to receive your words
As an empty womb eagerly expects to receive a child Donʼt stare back at these blank pages
That only blink when you command them to
Donʼt walk away from these wanting pages
When you know they canʼt talk back at you
These pages
They wait for you to impregnate them with tears
With spit from your silly laughter
They do not expect to be treated with a morning after, Pill
Nor to be aborted in some back street shack
All they ask is that you write
For it is your words that gives them color
It is your joy that gives them value
Oh, will you write
Anything. About you. Him. Her. Them. It. Just fill up these pages and write
Just write and write and write
In short, just breathe.
Deeply.
Just breathe.
Write
by Nompendulo Shabangu
For you know that when you allow yourself to stop breathing
You die
You know itʼs through writing that you find healing
And peace, not always an answer, but peace to many of your “whys” So go ahead and cry
See, just like God Iʼm not afraid of your feelings But unlike God I canʼt make promises
See, you need God in order to live
But I need you in order to live
Write. Put pen to paper and vent. Cry. Bruise. Hurt. Shout. Just donʼt forget to write.
Donʼt forget to heal.
Child I knew that though gave you the right to breathe, Sometimes you would opt to hold your breath in.
I know a lot of things still baffle you
Like m grace – an undeserved favor,
My righteousness and why you still struggle with sin.
What I really want is for you to live
Pa wants you to live and give the world all Iʼve given you.
Write.

Nompendulo Shabangu

Featured Poem:

Never Got the Chance

Enlarge poem

One of my most favorite things was when my mother would cup my face in her warm hands
And smile so bright with glistening eyes
and tell me hwo she loves my big brown eyes
I loved how she combed my hair so gently
And whisper to me so faintly
How she couldnʼt imagine life without me
And that there was nowhere else she would rather be
Mom told me that my Dad threatened to leave
Her if she didnʼt get rid of me
And even though she loved him and didnʼt want to lose him She decided that whatever will be, will be
I often have flashbacks of how Mom and I used to struggle I remember that the only blanket I had at times
was my motherʼs warm body pressed close to mine
And when she would hear my soft sobs that I tried to hide Sheʼd whisper to me, “Honey, weʼll be just fine”
And just fine we became
Because truthfully, situations donʼt remain forever the same Guess what, a child doesnʼt remain a child forever
Ha! I grew up and I worked hard.
I became top of my university class
I refused to let my background hold me back
I graduated and became a lawyer
And Iʼll never exchange the proud look on my motherʼs face
She cried and tried to hide the tears
She couldnʼt believe that weʼd overcome our fears Looking back to all those years
Thatʼs what could have been
It hurt to know that these big bright eyes
would never live to see their own motherʼs eyes
And that these ears would never hear that “weʼll do just fine”
Because somehow they got to her
The people that managed to convince her that I was just a blob of cells Tissue. Thatʼs what they said.
I wish the other people had gotten to her first
They could have informed her that my Maker said that
Even before I was in her womb He knew me
And that He equipped me to be a blessing
While He was knitting me in her womb
But that womb in which I was supposed to be secure
Ended up being my tomb
And even though I wasnʼt fully developed
I felt it as I was torn from limb to limb
How dare they convince her that Iʼm just a bunch of cells
Many have sown seeds and expected something to grow out of it,
And it did.
And it did.
But no one ever thought that something would ever grow out of this seed.
They donʼt know that when I was killed in my motherʼs womb My dreams and hopes were also killed with me.
All that I could ever become was killed with me
You see, my mother was wrapped up with what was before her, And she didnʼt stop to think of what could be
Yes, my Daddy would have left But we would have been just fine.
Even though people managed to tell her that I was just a blob of cells What nobody knows is that she secretly mourns
On what would have been my birthday
She recalls how old I would be
And even though she tells people that my sister is her first child Deep down inside she knows itʼs really me

How does this featured poem make you feel?

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

Comments

  1. Excellent work of a lady with a great personality. I remember her written work years back…you go girl!

    Hloniphile Dlamini
  2. This is a beautiful poem wordsmith. Thank you for sharing this story with us because we never hear it.

    Mmakgosi

Your email address will not be published.

Biography

Nompendulo Shabangu, a.k.a. Nomps, recalls writing poems for her mother for Mothers’ Day from the time that she was in primary school. She has been blessed with phenomenal English teachers all the way from pre-school. Nomps is a writer of short stories, poetry, and she also has her own blog.

Nomps is a Motswana, yet she was raised in South Africa. All of her works are inspired by God. Her writings are about God, love, and justice; three topics that are inseparable. She believes that through her writings, poems, and performances, she gets to be an advocate, a voice for the voiceless and to also offer up hope to the hopeless. She aims to raise awareness about the social ills and current affairs, and in turn mobilize her audience to proaction. She also aims to spread love, and to help instill purpose.

Nomps is a member of Poetavango Spoken Word poetry, and she performs at their events. She has performed at the 2014 Maun International Arts Festival, and the Barona Gratitude Gala in Maun in May 2015. Even though Nomps performs in English, she also writes Zulu and Xhosa pieces.

Nompendulo Shabangu

Biography

Nompendulo Shabangu, a.k.a. Nomps, recalls writing poems for her mother for Mothers’ Day from the time that she was in primary school. She has been blessed with phenomenal English teachers all the way from pre-school. Nomps is a writer of short stories, poetry, and she also has her own blog.

Nomps is a Motswana, yet she was raised in South Africa. All of her works are inspired by God. Her writings are about God, love, and justice; three topics that are inseparable. She believes that through her writings, poems, and performances, she gets to be an advocate, a voice for the voiceless and to also offer up hope to the hopeless. She aims to raise awareness about the social ills and current affairs, and in turn mobilize her audience to proaction. She also aims to spread love, and to help instill purpose.

Nomps is a member of Poetavango Spoken Word poetry, and she performs at their events. She has performed at the 2014 Maun International Arts Festival, and the Barona Gratitude Gala in Maun in May 2015. Even though Nomps performs in English, she also writes Zulu and Xhosa pieces.

Write

Enlarge poem

Write
Thatʼs all I ask of you. Just to write.
Thatʼs all I need you to do
Iʼm not asking you to be something youʼre not However, all I know is that writers write.
Yes! Fight with your emotions. Be angry. Be sad. Be hurt.
Be crazy. Be fun. Be excited. Be expectant. Be hopeful. Just. Be.
Iʼm awaiting to receive your words
As an empty womb eagerly expects to receive a child Donʼt stare back at these blank pages
That only blink when you command them to
Donʼt walk away from these wanting pages
When you know they canʼt talk back at you
These pages
They wait for you to impregnate them with tears
With spit from your silly laughter
They do not expect to be treated with a morning after, Pill
Nor to be aborted in some back street shack
All they ask is that you write
For it is your words that gives them color
It is your joy that gives them value
Oh, will you write
Anything. About you. Him. Her. Them. It. Just fill up these pages and write
Just write and write and write
In short, just breathe.
Deeply.
Just breathe.
Write
by Nompendulo Shabangu
For you know that when you allow yourself to stop breathing
You die
You know itʼs through writing that you find healing
And peace, not always an answer, but peace to many of your “whys” So go ahead and cry
See, just like God Iʼm not afraid of your feelings But unlike God I canʼt make promises
See, you need God in order to live
But I need you in order to live
Write. Put pen to paper and vent. Cry. Bruise. Hurt. Shout. Just donʼt forget to write.
Donʼt forget to heal.
Child I knew that though gave you the right to breathe, Sometimes you would opt to hold your breath in.
I know a lot of things still baffle you
Like m grace – an undeserved favor,
My righteousness and why you still struggle with sin.
What I really want is for you to live
Pa wants you to live and give the world all Iʼve given you.
Write.

Featured Poem:

Never Got the Chance

Enlarge poem

One of my most favorite things was when my mother would cup my face in her warm hands
And smile so bright with glistening eyes
and tell me hwo she loves my big brown eyes
I loved how she combed my hair so gently
And whisper to me so faintly
How she couldnʼt imagine life without me
And that there was nowhere else she would rather be
Mom told me that my Dad threatened to leave
Her if she didnʼt get rid of me
And even though she loved him and didnʼt want to lose him She decided that whatever will be, will be
I often have flashbacks of how Mom and I used to struggle I remember that the only blanket I had at times
was my motherʼs warm body pressed close to mine
And when she would hear my soft sobs that I tried to hide Sheʼd whisper to me, “Honey, weʼll be just fine”
And just fine we became
Because truthfully, situations donʼt remain forever the same Guess what, a child doesnʼt remain a child forever
Ha! I grew up and I worked hard.
I became top of my university class
I refused to let my background hold me back
I graduated and became a lawyer
And Iʼll never exchange the proud look on my motherʼs face
She cried and tried to hide the tears
She couldnʼt believe that weʼd overcome our fears Looking back to all those years
Thatʼs what could have been
It hurt to know that these big bright eyes
would never live to see their own motherʼs eyes
And that these ears would never hear that “weʼll do just fine”
Because somehow they got to her
The people that managed to convince her that I was just a blob of cells Tissue. Thatʼs what they said.
I wish the other people had gotten to her first
They could have informed her that my Maker said that
Even before I was in her womb He knew me
And that He equipped me to be a blessing
While He was knitting me in her womb
But that womb in which I was supposed to be secure
Ended up being my tomb
And even though I wasnʼt fully developed
I felt it as I was torn from limb to limb
How dare they convince her that Iʼm just a bunch of cells
Many have sown seeds and expected something to grow out of it,
And it did.
And it did.
But no one ever thought that something would ever grow out of this seed.
They donʼt know that when I was killed in my motherʼs womb My dreams and hopes were also killed with me.
All that I could ever become was killed with me
You see, my mother was wrapped up with what was before her, And she didnʼt stop to think of what could be
Yes, my Daddy would have left But we would have been just fine.
Even though people managed to tell her that I was just a blob of cells What nobody knows is that she secretly mourns
On what would have been my birthday
She recalls how old I would be
And even though she tells people that my sister is her first child Deep down inside she knows itʼs really me

How does this featured poem make you feel?

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

Write

Enlarge poem

Write
Thatʼs all I ask of you. Just to write.
Thatʼs all I need you to do
Iʼm not asking you to be something youʼre not However, all I know is that writers write.
Yes! Fight with your emotions. Be angry. Be sad. Be hurt.
Be crazy. Be fun. Be excited. Be expectant. Be hopeful. Just. Be.
Iʼm awaiting to receive your words
As an empty womb eagerly expects to receive a child Donʼt stare back at these blank pages
That only blink when you command them to
Donʼt walk away from these wanting pages
When you know they canʼt talk back at you
These pages
They wait for you to impregnate them with tears
With spit from your silly laughter
They do not expect to be treated with a morning after, Pill
Nor to be aborted in some back street shack
All they ask is that you write
For it is your words that gives them color
It is your joy that gives them value
Oh, will you write
Anything. About you. Him. Her. Them. It. Just fill up these pages and write
Just write and write and write
In short, just breathe.
Deeply.
Just breathe.
Write
by Nompendulo Shabangu
For you know that when you allow yourself to stop breathing
You die
You know itʼs through writing that you find healing
And peace, not always an answer, but peace to many of your “whys” So go ahead and cry
See, just like God Iʼm not afraid of your feelings But unlike God I canʼt make promises
See, you need God in order to live
But I need you in order to live
Write. Put pen to paper and vent. Cry. Bruise. Hurt. Shout. Just donʼt forget to write.
Donʼt forget to heal.
Child I knew that though gave you the right to breathe, Sometimes you would opt to hold your breath in.
I know a lot of things still baffle you
Like m grace – an undeserved favor,
My righteousness and why you still struggle with sin.
What I really want is for you to live
Pa wants you to live and give the world all Iʼve given you.
Write.

Comments

  1. Excellent work of a lady with a great personality. I remember her written work years back…you go girl!

    Hloniphile Dlamini
  2. This is a beautiful poem wordsmith. Thank you for sharing this story with us because we never hear it.

    Mmakgosi

Your email address will not be published.