Gola O Gole

Gola O Gole

Days come and days go, but some days don’t just come
And blessèd ones like these don’t just go. They leave
Marks, and live forever, like Hallmarks!

Today, time was punctuated and the pages of its story
Caught a fire, ignited with flames that don’t burn to
Destroy but to illuminate. Today, is the spring of a
Season in the family, the unveiling of a bright, fun,
And colourful flower. Today is your birthday, Gola o
Gole, o segohale o tsohale!

Yvonne ‘Tsona’ Mpofu

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IF…

IF…

If…
What if…?
If it’s writer’s block…
What if I wrote about writer’s block?

Is it still writer’s block then?

If the words are always there
And it’s the thoughts that shy away
Then why should I say…
“Writer’s block has me in chains”.

What if I jot down the random words
That fly around in my coy thoughts
Then maybe a story I can compose,
I mean look what has come of a simple ‘IF‘!

IF

Questions to the Moon

Questions to the Moon

Utter the words and let me feel them.
Kiss my cheek and let me hear you.
I want the love you speak with your
Gestures, to venture into my heart with
Profound warmth. Your stillness to move
Me, to brood over a love so enormous
I will not be able to contain it within me.

What have you done to me? You confuse
My feels so much they refuse to get used
To the love you serve me daily. What a
Manner of love you have shown me. It
Hurts but it sooths my hurts, and cuts
Me deep to infuse itself into my bones.

So what have I done to deserve this? I
Have knelt on knees and screamed
Silent prayers I thought only my soul
Would hear. But the bearer of souls
Had heard ’cause He was there. So he
Heeded the shouts, and sounds of
Blessings bred in answered prayers,
And were then delivered my way.

But was I ever ready? Oh no, I was not!
Showers poured down and there came
The floods, in love drowned. But still,
Here I am gasping and needing for air
To breathe, enduring waves and tides
Of love so strong, they have since sunk
My ship of no hope and despair.

So why do I need this love? Why do I
Still cling onto it so much? ‘Cause it
Has delivered me from that much.
Through it, I have seen things only
Ever heard of, and have heard things
Only ever seen. I’ve felt it my bones
And in my core. I have learnt to swim
This ocean of life, and have mastered
Its waves and tides. And most of all,
I’ve learnt to weather the storm, never
To be afraid to break the norm, ’cause
Love, yes God; has blessed with love,
With you. My moon.

Double Deca Moment

Double Deca Moment

Herein is the translation, in poetry,
Of echoing moments within the sixty
minute circumference, whose manifestation
In time was also their fateful demise.

But having fathered and paved way
For a moment of double impact,
The ten ten moment, The Double
Deca moment. A moment clothed
In serene stillness yet deep within,
Is embedded with chaotic activity
Of incomprehensible thought
Generations and reflex sensations.

A moment of indubitably power-
Emotions, and yet not an ounce of
Them the heart can reminisce upon.
Stares at nothing, but that mean
Something, soothing sighs of peace
Of mind from time to time.

But while I sunk slowly and deeper
Into this pool of dimes, along came
A distraction and pulled me back into
The mundane flow of things. But all
Through the day were extraordintary
Spouts of moments, through which random
Thoughts tiptoed into the conscience
To deliver a small note from John.

The note does not seem much, its
Only the tenth of ten amongst many.
And with it came a filling of
Assurance for my heart and a feeling
Of contentment for my soul. That
Double Deca Moment still ripple
Effects through my being in
Wavelengths not measurable by
Richter scales, but sorts similar to
Hunger pangs. Life has been given
In abundance and within this ball
Of chocolate like molten caramel,
Sweet and pleasurable was a love
Ordained by Love Himself. Deca!💙

Soul Of Wit

john

Surrender

Surrender

I have had to let my thoughts go, surrender
Them to wonder, and have them wander to
Places that please more than just the eye.
Places that often find space in the heart,
And brand it ‘memorable’.

And it’s at such places that I have
Always found that urge, that tickle
And twitch in my fingers, in my poetic
Faculties. It’s in such places that
I have always found, not only the
Words, but those sweet and sour
Chronicles worthy of record in my book.

And for all this I know I am blessed
To have had this chance, to have been
Inspired, to have mustered up the
Courage to share my stories. Pieces of
Me. Whether big or small, it has always
Given me great pleasure and satisfaction.

So thank you. Thank you for reading the
Words of a bleeding heart; thank you for
Giving time to this heart when it smiles.
For sharing in the hurts and joys of my
Journey, ’cause these words have been the
Tissue and band aids that bind my wounds,
But also the breaks of great laughter.
So thank you!


SoulOfWit

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Airing Again…

Airing Again…

It feels good to have my lover
Back in my arms again. How
Sweet her scent is to my soul.
From the hood of my head to
The base of my foot and the
Very tips of my toes.

It feels good to be writing again.
The smell of ink as it wets the
Paper to record the sentiments
Of my spirit. It sure feels good
To be airing again, letting my
Imagination fly again.

SoulOfWit

A Ratwa

A Ratwa

A day or two after the skies flaunted
The full brilliance of her queen. Born
To mother Earth was another, history
Called her Princess: a priceless gift to
Mother and father. To whom the love
Of Heaven has manifested, so rightfully
They named her, Heavenly.

Ya re Kgosigadi ya Mopitlo Ngwedi a
Hulara, ra tlhoka go lala mo hihing.
Masego a Modimo a na, a ratwa.
(As the Queen of March, Moon,
fled away, we were never left to
Face the darkness. The blessings
Of God rained, and they were loved.)

To the beautiful baby girl on the B.R Express,
In whom imagination saw a refulgent glimpse.
Happy first Birthday, to that cute little Princess.
May the Lord’s blessings shower you in excess.