Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

Playing In The Rain

Enlarge poem

When we were children we swung on trees
Hung on dreams,
Paid flowers visits and captured bees
Unconscious investments now life,
Is rather sweet
We caged birds just to be free
Wandering souls (soles) conquered mountains barefoot
Chasing after rabbits
…after bad habits
Made innocent mistakes and belts were never meant for waists
We made granny run
Now her back, bent like branches reaching out for the sun
Will she ever taste the sweetness of her fruits?
The creativity of her juice?
Her wrinkles history lines in remembrance of our roots
We were young
Naughty scenes in hiding but when seen,
Hidings were a scene
And we ran like we carried freedom in our feet
When streets were playgrounds before playgrounds were built on our streets
Before playgrounds were built on our screens
Tongues dressed in different speech,
But loneliness dared not to befriend us
Tea and laughter for breakfast
Inhaled stories now we own legends for breath
Rich with yesterdays
We inherit age
The past, the master
The future is a present slave
I wasn’t Flex then,
If time is money, memories are an investment

Phomolo Flex

Featured Poem:

Black is...

Enlarge poem

Time holds us captive
Confront our struggles with ink,
these pens are passive
Natural born peace makers
The train of war is passing,
crawling, forward in reverse
Time is of the essence
Minutes before birth
We’re told that second(s), come first

These hours, aren’t ours
before the soil grew lies
we invested in seeds
Planted our dreams,
Watered with efforts from ancestral streams
Sweat on soil, sunlit, we beam
But still,
These hours aren’t ours
Before four
Before “quarter to five”
Before six o’clock on the dot
Before the wise men came with clocks
The moon had long been our clock
And she is wise
The position of the sun told us time
But time has told,
we ought to reposition the mind,
of the Son

Black is bright
Black accommodates light
Our dreams are stars
And black is night
Black is life
Black is triumph
Black is right
Write us on time’s hand
Eternity will lead us back to our future
Black to our origin
We know our genesis
In exodus we spoke in a language of time
Though history holds us hostage
We host age in young and vibrant veins
Our mouths are caves
Tongues are blades
Stabbing history hoping it bleeds our tales
500 years,
All we’ve mastered is being slaves
Same scenes, different timelines like déjà vu
Sometimes, when days are dark, friends are few
Most times, when friends are dark; days are few…

Phomolo Flex

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (0)
  • Pride (0)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (0)
  • Delight (0)
  • Inspiration (5)
  • Reflection (2)
  • Captivation (0)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (0)
  • Vigour (0)
  • Hope (1)
  • Sadness (0)
  • Fear (0)
  • Jubilation (0)

Video

Comments

  1. I remember the days of Street Poetry bra…bo grass roots…coffee theatre…you always held your own and i admire how you have flourished…Bless ma guy…

    Tutu

Your email address will not be published.

Biography

Born in a township called Thabong in the Free Ste, Phomolo Sekamotho, better known as Flex, is a South African poet that fuses spoken word poetry with various elements of art. His craft has seen him travel and share himself all across Southern Africa. In 2012 he headlined the House of Hunger Poetry Slam in Zimbabwe. Phomolo recorded a debut digital album titled in Between the lines EP and is currently working on a live poetry in Music album.

Phomolo Flex

Phomolo Flex
Phomolo Flex

Biography

Born in a township called Thabong in the Free Ste, Phomolo Sekamotho, better known as Flex, is a South African poet that fuses spoken word poetry with various elements of art. His craft has seen him travel and share himself all across Southern Africa. In 2012 he headlined the House of Hunger Poetry Slam in Zimbabwe. Phomolo recorded a debut digital album titled in Between the lines EP and is currently working on a live poetry in Music album.

Playing In The Rain

Enlarge poem

When we were children we swung on trees
Hung on dreams,
Paid flowers visits and captured bees
Unconscious investments now life,
Is rather sweet
We caged birds just to be free
Wandering souls (soles) conquered mountains barefoot
Chasing after rabbits
…after bad habits
Made innocent mistakes and belts were never meant for waists
We made granny run
Now her back, bent like branches reaching out for the sun
Will she ever taste the sweetness of her fruits?
The creativity of her juice?
Her wrinkles history lines in remembrance of our roots
We were young
Naughty scenes in hiding but when seen,
Hidings were a scene
And we ran like we carried freedom in our feet
When streets were playgrounds before playgrounds were built on our streets
Before playgrounds were built on our screens
Tongues dressed in different speech,
But loneliness dared not to befriend us
Tea and laughter for breakfast
Inhaled stories now we own legends for breath
Rich with yesterdays
We inherit age
The past, the master
The future is a present slave
I wasn’t Flex then,
If time is money, memories are an investment

Featured Poem:

Black is...

Enlarge poem

Time holds us captive
Confront our struggles with ink,
these pens are passive
Natural born peace makers
The train of war is passing,
crawling, forward in reverse
Time is of the essence
Minutes before birth
We’re told that second(s), come first

These hours, aren’t ours
before the soil grew lies
we invested in seeds
Planted our dreams,
Watered with efforts from ancestral streams
Sweat on soil, sunlit, we beam
But still,
These hours aren’t ours
Before four
Before “quarter to five”
Before six o’clock on the dot
Before the wise men came with clocks
The moon had long been our clock
And she is wise
The position of the sun told us time
But time has told,
we ought to reposition the mind,
of the Son

Black is bright
Black accommodates light
Our dreams are stars
And black is night
Black is life
Black is triumph
Black is right
Write us on time’s hand
Eternity will lead us back to our future
Black to our origin
We know our genesis
In exodus we spoke in a language of time
Though history holds us hostage
We host age in young and vibrant veins
Our mouths are caves
Tongues are blades
Stabbing history hoping it bleeds our tales
500 years,
All we’ve mastered is being slaves
Same scenes, different timelines like déjà vu
Sometimes, when days are dark, friends are few
Most times, when friends are dark; days are few…

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (0)
  • Pride (0)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (0)
  • Delight (0)
  • Inspiration (5)
  • Reflection (2)
  • Captivation (0)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (0)
  • Vigour (0)
  • Hope (1)
  • Sadness (0)
  • Fear (0)
  • Jubilation (0)

Playing In The Rain

Enlarge poem

When we were children we swung on trees
Hung on dreams,
Paid flowers visits and captured bees
Unconscious investments now life,
Is rather sweet
We caged birds just to be free
Wandering souls (soles) conquered mountains barefoot
Chasing after rabbits
…after bad habits
Made innocent mistakes and belts were never meant for waists
We made granny run
Now her back, bent like branches reaching out for the sun
Will she ever taste the sweetness of her fruits?
The creativity of her juice?
Her wrinkles history lines in remembrance of our roots
We were young
Naughty scenes in hiding but when seen,
Hidings were a scene
And we ran like we carried freedom in our feet
When streets were playgrounds before playgrounds were built on our streets
Before playgrounds were built on our screens
Tongues dressed in different speech,
But loneliness dared not to befriend us
Tea and laughter for breakfast
Inhaled stories now we own legends for breath
Rich with yesterdays
We inherit age
The past, the master
The future is a present slave
I wasn’t Flex then,
If time is money, memories are an investment

Video

Comments

  1. I remember the days of Street Poetry bra…bo grass roots…coffee theatre…you always held your own and i admire how you have flourished…Bless ma guy…

    Tutu

Your email address will not be published.