Childhood looks like dust covered feet at sunsetM Making their way in-between the hole riddled fence After my mother’s call for supper Childhood smells like blood dripped from big toe You know the one that collide with this tarmac road During a game of hwishu Childhood tastes like sadza mbodza rembida Made in hole riddled… Read More Childhood Feels Like Home
Configured into what is thought to beThough it never wasBent to a near breaking pointForced to conformThese contours, these scarsSigns of victory, signs of perseverance.
Peace of the mind And that of the heart May coexist In balance Or not – musings of an unbalanced soul
Tides are coming anew That which we once thought was done Has become undone They are rushing To sweep us of our feet To drown us To hold us In water Gasping Tides are rising
Zhizha rauya Rain drops pitter patter Shanda hamawe
Sometimes Joy comes In a form You never accept In a little one’s smile In pen and paper The smell of fresh paint Or that of a new book Evoking feelings That provoke smiles Joy comes When you least expect It also comes When you most expect it too When you go out and reach… Read More Sometimes Joy – A Poem