Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

Zimbabwe

Enlarge poem

Across the neighbourhood
dust rose from synchronised sweeps.
The rhythmic sweeping of African straw brooms on soil creating a harmony of schwa, schwa, schwas.
Brown clouds filling the light summer evening with the taste of dirt in my mouth and
my nostrils filling up with the smell of home
(a fragrance I didn’t yet know I will one day hunger for).
I watched storks silhouetted on the slim pink sky as they flew to their nests and nestlings.
The lingering heat from blistering summer sun trapped in the walls of the house.
I stood against it with my back pressed into the red bricks. I enjoyed the warmth radiating,
jolting forward when the heat burnt my small bottom and back.
My palms opened against the wall.

Dreams flew past the canvas of my young mind.
Childhood joys flutter before my third eye. Wispy clouds on the horizon.
God has swept his floor’, we used to say.
High school geography taught me they were cirrus clouds.
Bird song from the mango trees.
A busy chorus of chirps.
A backdrop for children shouting goodbyes
and see you tomorrows to their friends from their doorsteps,
as moms hushed them off to bath and supper.
An African eventide, my favourite time of day.

Tapiwa Mugabe

Featured Poem:

Man & You are Oceanic

Enlarge poem

Man
I used to make apologies for having the soft in my man.
A wave of woman in my masculinity.
I was called too gentle and too unmanly for not hoarding women in my waist.
Today I wear my mother in my voice,
I am clothed in her.
I wear my sisters in my thinking, my grandmother in my bone, in my soul.
I am after all my grandmother’s child.
For she prayed for me.
It was she who went before God,
red war paint on her face from fighting the men.
She pleaded for a son.
How then can I deny the woman in me,
when my coming to earth was because women prayed for me?
Was I not made from a woman’s mouth?
Only father remarks at my petal nature,
The women I come from say I am beautiful.

You are Oceanic
All she wanted
was to find a place to stretch her bones.
A place to lengthen her smiles
and spread her hair.
A place where her legs could walk
without cutting and bruising.
A place unchained.
She was born out of ocean breath.
I reminded her;
‘Stop pouring so much of yourself
into hearts that have no room
for themselves.
Do not thin yourself.
Be vast.
You do not bring the ocean to a river’.

tapiwa mugabe22

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (19)
  • Pride (14)
  • Optimism (12)
  • Anger (7)
  • Delight (5)
  • Inspiration (21)
  • Reflection (19)
  • Captivation (9)
  • Peace (13)
  • Amusement (6)
  • Sorrow (4)
  • Vigour (5)
  • Hope (9)
  • Sadness (7)
  • Fear (6)
  • Jubilation (5)

Comments

  1. I have just discovered this and I am in tears- grateful tears! My soul has been thirsting and I have found my well. Thank you for sharing your soul with us.

    Teuila

Your email address will not be published.

Biography

Tapiwa Mugabe is a writer who was born in Zimbabwe and raised in England, UK. As a writer and poet he has recently published his first collection of poetry titled Zimbabwe. Tapiwa’s poetry introduces a fresh and bold voice into the rich current that is emerging from young African millennial artists.

http://tapiwamugabe.tumblr.com/

Tapiwa Mugabe

tapiwa mugabe22
tapiwa mugabe22

Biography

Tapiwa Mugabe is a writer who was born in Zimbabwe and raised in England, UK. As a writer and poet he has recently published his first collection of poetry titled Zimbabwe. Tapiwa’s poetry introduces a fresh and bold voice into the rich current that is emerging from young African millennial artists.

http://tapiwamugabe.tumblr.com/

Zimbabwe

Enlarge poem

Across the neighbourhood
dust rose from synchronised sweeps.
The rhythmic sweeping of African straw brooms on soil creating a harmony of schwa, schwa, schwas.
Brown clouds filling the light summer evening with the taste of dirt in my mouth and
my nostrils filling up with the smell of home
(a fragrance I didn’t yet know I will one day hunger for).
I watched storks silhouetted on the slim pink sky as they flew to their nests and nestlings.
The lingering heat from blistering summer sun trapped in the walls of the house.
I stood against it with my back pressed into the red bricks. I enjoyed the warmth radiating,
jolting forward when the heat burnt my small bottom and back.
My palms opened against the wall.

Dreams flew past the canvas of my young mind.
Childhood joys flutter before my third eye. Wispy clouds on the horizon.
God has swept his floor’, we used to say.
High school geography taught me they were cirrus clouds.
Bird song from the mango trees.
A busy chorus of chirps.
A backdrop for children shouting goodbyes
and see you tomorrows to their friends from their doorsteps,
as moms hushed them off to bath and supper.
An African eventide, my favourite time of day.

Featured Poem:

Man & You are Oceanic

Enlarge poem

Man
I used to make apologies for having the soft in my man.
A wave of woman in my masculinity.
I was called too gentle and too unmanly for not hoarding women in my waist.
Today I wear my mother in my voice,
I am clothed in her.
I wear my sisters in my thinking, my grandmother in my bone, in my soul.
I am after all my grandmother’s child.
For she prayed for me.
It was she who went before God,
red war paint on her face from fighting the men.
She pleaded for a son.
How then can I deny the woman in me,
when my coming to earth was because women prayed for me?
Was I not made from a woman’s mouth?
Only father remarks at my petal nature,
The women I come from say I am beautiful.

You are Oceanic
All she wanted
was to find a place to stretch her bones.
A place to lengthen her smiles
and spread her hair.
A place where her legs could walk
without cutting and bruising.
A place unchained.
She was born out of ocean breath.
I reminded her;
‘Stop pouring so much of yourself
into hearts that have no room
for themselves.
Do not thin yourself.
Be vast.
You do not bring the ocean to a river’.

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (19)
  • Pride (14)
  • Optimism (12)
  • Anger (7)
  • Delight (5)
  • Inspiration (21)
  • Reflection (19)
  • Captivation (9)
  • Peace (13)
  • Amusement (6)
  • Sorrow (4)
  • Vigour (5)
  • Hope (9)
  • Sadness (7)
  • Fear (6)
  • Jubilation (5)

Zimbabwe

Enlarge poem

Across the neighbourhood
dust rose from synchronised sweeps.
The rhythmic sweeping of African straw brooms on soil creating a harmony of schwa, schwa, schwas.
Brown clouds filling the light summer evening with the taste of dirt in my mouth and
my nostrils filling up with the smell of home
(a fragrance I didn’t yet know I will one day hunger for).
I watched storks silhouetted on the slim pink sky as they flew to their nests and nestlings.
The lingering heat from blistering summer sun trapped in the walls of the house.
I stood against it with my back pressed into the red bricks. I enjoyed the warmth radiating,
jolting forward when the heat burnt my small bottom and back.
My palms opened against the wall.

Dreams flew past the canvas of my young mind.
Childhood joys flutter before my third eye. Wispy clouds on the horizon.
God has swept his floor’, we used to say.
High school geography taught me they were cirrus clouds.
Bird song from the mango trees.
A busy chorus of chirps.
A backdrop for children shouting goodbyes
and see you tomorrows to their friends from their doorsteps,
as moms hushed them off to bath and supper.
An African eventide, my favourite time of day.

Comments

  1. I have just discovered this and I am in tears- grateful tears! My soul has been thirsting and I have found my well. Thank you for sharing your soul with us.

    Teuila

Your email address will not be published.