October 2017 Vol. II No. X
Not your ordinary poetry magazine!
If good coffee (or just the concept of coffee), great books, sharp wit, and great authors excite you, we are for you!
International Poetry الشعر শ্লোক ကဗျာ ליבע ਪਿਆਰ өлүм
with Tendai Rinos Mwanaka and Rameeza Nasim
WHAT YOU LEFT BEHIND
It wasn’t easy when you finally left
War leaves us in pain
I took my time and cleared the debris that was my heart
War leaves us broken
I searched for those broken pieces of my heart and patched them together
But some pieces I never found. The ones that had me in them
War only takes the most important things from us
I struggled and managed to flush out the reeking of loss from my soul
What word can describe the loss brought by war?
I had to rebuild myself and try to look whole again
Even though I knew I would never be complete
War leaves nothing the same
And finally I managed to face me
I looked in the mirror and counted all the scars
Touched all the wounds and saw the victory
And I fell in love with what you left behind-me
War changes us
BEING A WOMAN
What is it like to be a woman?
It is like being rain in a fire
It is being water in a desert
It is befriending thunder and falling in love with thorns
Is that it? Is that all?
No
Being a Woman is simply teaching war how to love-not everyone can
That’s it
That’s all
Monicah Nairesiae Masikonte
I am a budding poet from Kenya. My poems come from my heart and are inspired by various situations, people, things and feelings. I am working on my poetry collection and I hope it will be out soon. My first published poem was in BNAP 2016, and this gave me courage to go on with writing.
The Glorified Lionesses
We are the ones
Our foremothers have been waiting for
To retell
Their stories
Our stories
Stories
We are the ones that must speak
Of the baton passed down to us
Taytu Betul
Empress
Steadfast adviser
Familiar with politics
Its tricks
Have you forgotten Her Ethiopia?
We hold the words to reshape our history
To bring to life those fire place oral tales
Those never told truths of Your resistance against colonialism
Nzinga Mbandi
Queen of Ndongo
Now Angola
You dispositioned Goddesses
In the scriptures
We are the once who will sing You praises
As we reposition You on Your rightful thrones
Your role against apartheid
Mariam Makeba
Will resound endlessly
Like Your timeless music
We are the ones who will exhume Your contributions
Charlotte Mannya Maxeke
Mariam Tlali, Ngwanyeruwa, Aoua Keita, Funmilayo Kuti, Ellen Kuzwayo, Winifred Madikizela, Wangazi Maathai…
We are the lionesses that will tell
Your stories
Our stories
Stories glorifying Lionesses
Black Person
When the earth waves goodbye to the sun
Darkness welcomes the moon and stars
I cover myself with dream
And as the heart beats
I see Black Person
Beautiful like the chiselled churches of King Lalibela
I smell Black Person
Scented like the unification of soil and rain
I hear Black Person
Echoing like the voice of the Life
I touch Black Person
Strong and unbowed like Kimpa Vita
Yes
Dona Beatrice
And as the heart beats
I am Black Person
A Warrior Goddess with a passion for her people, the Black Nation. Mikateko E. Mbambo seeks through her poetry to create firstly spaces where Black Girls and Women can identify, aspire, dream, inspire, empower, be empowered, grow, and so much more. Secondly her writing seeks to glorify the Black Nation while reflecting on the times. She is a qualified journalist and content producer by profession. She collects and enjoys African literary works. Apart from writing she is a pastel drawer and crafts woman. Mikateko has poems and stories Africa is waiting to hear and read.
Tendai Rinos Mwanaka is a leading poet and writer of the new generation of African writers and works hard to promote African writing through anthologies he has curated and co edited. Mwanaka has been shortlisted and won several writing awards, including being shortlisted for a record 7 times for the UK based Erbacce poetry award, 3 times nominated for the Pushcart, The Caine African Writing Award etc.
He is a published and exhibited visual artist (photography, painting, drawing, installation, collage, video.), represented by ARNA gallery, Sweden, until 2020, upcoming exhibitions include among others, Alice Art Gallery Johannesburg, February 2017, Le Corridor Gallery, Harare, May 2017, a published sound/musical artist using mostly tradition instrumentations like the mbira. He is a mentor, translator, scholar, theorist, reviewer, editor, critic, whose work has been published in over 400 journals in over 27 countries, translated into French, Germany and Spanish.
He also works part time as a research consultant for a NGO based in Mozambique, in the primary education field. His published work can be found here: Tendai Rinos Mwanaka
A Love in Words
You remind me of an oft-read book,
One I keep going back to,
The scent of time pressed between its pages,
A heady fragrance that clings to you,
Dog-eared, with stains of spilled coffee,
The scars of love your lips left on my body,
A scribble here, a note there,
Secrets your fingers bore into my soul,
I often sleep, with the book on my chest,
Or is it you, listening to my heart?
An oft-read book, one I keep going back to,
With each word, you become me, and I become you.
An Old Soul in Love
I remember the time I took out the inkpot,
And searched for a quill in my cupboard,
Mother laughed and called me an old soul,
While I blew the dust off a sheaf of papers,
I moved my desk too, closer to the window,
Where the light is soft, and golden,
I sat there, breathing in the sun-warmed air,
Looking for words that could sum you up,
Old soul, I thought and smiled, a mind like dew,
So many stories to tell, but not as many ears,
And you, a piece of my heart reborn in the mortal world,
You deserve to be committed to memory, through delicate swirls of ink,
The quill must cease between words, to allow me a sigh of remembrance,
The paper must rustle, desperate to receive a likeness of you,
Old soul, they call me, an anachronism,
But aren't we all, when in love?
Rashmi Kulal is a dreamer. Having experienced the starkly different worlds of finance and tourism, she is now a content writer for a content management start-up. She has been exploring abstract forms of poetry since the past 5 years, and considers it to be an incredible medium of expression. She intends to carve her own niche in the world of words, and is determined enough to make her dream come true!
We watched with the eyes of Autumn
I
autumn leaves
brushed her curvaceous chests,
and gently crunched onto
her lips,
seared with breathing strawberries
wind rustled red,
like rosy cherries of
a banjolin:
as the smooth strands
of her moccasin
weave naked threads under the
moonlight...
II
romantic waters
bubbled between her purple breasts
and wilted to the thick
moans of my naked muscles..
as
virgin curves of her vertex,
smeared my thirst for her lips..
III
while her mulberry mouth
tongues the delicate dimples under
my waist,
painted wisps of
her feminine leaves
part between my soft sinews:
as her eye, two ripened melons
ripple between my breath
of mountain streams
and dissolve into the
dying constellations of her nakedness
she entwines
in the strings of my silk
and I drink the maple syrups
from her madrigal chest
as
we finally watched
the September stars
drift in the meadows of
our
autumn love..
YESHWANT. S is 15 years old and sends us this from Tamil Nadu, India.
CRUMPLED MOON
my scorched soles,
bruised wounds stitched together
by the waves
my ankles in moon craters
my fingers fumbling
to untie the knotted sinews
of your heart
water lily
scattered petals, rumpled
my soul is laced
with utmost yearning
on every petal, I perceive
a crumpled crescent
the waning moon
gently crumpling
a crease on the moon
MIDNIGHT MOONS
a solitary flower
between your locks
with rumpled petals
I smooth out the wrinkles
with my thumb
the creases
in the crumpling crescent
your locks
entwined with moonbeams
smoothened petals
of the water lily
I gasp
at the waning moons
surprisingly
they're looking fuller
Veerangana, 13 years old, from New Delhi, India, was previously published on our Haiku page, and now we are honored to share her free verse on our International page!
Solace
yes I was trying harder
to find solace
in what remains with me
I was trying harder
to fight this urge
to end everything within me
But these words
they don't let me die
I'm being tortured by my own writings
The words spill blood
they wrench my soul
and rip it into pieces
every single time I read any of my poem
But yes I'm trying
trying harder
every single moment
to find the hope
to find the light
to illuminate within
to find solace...
Hira Naz, loves to play with words and form beautiful poetry. Hira says, "I am a Process Engineer by Profession but poetry is what I am passionate about."
As a special treat, we are privileged to share one of our International Poetry page editors own poetry. I hope you enjoy this as much as we do - Anthony Watkins
Lost Words
Those spoken words,
Heard,
Felt,
Apparently forgotten.
Buried deep into the nooks of the heart.
Those lost words might return anytime
They could come somewhere
In the middle of a dark night
In form of a silent tear,
OR an unknown fear,
A groan
Or a regret to own
You have to pay for them
Sometimes
Even when you haven't uttered
Those lost
Yet not forgotten words
Rameeza Nasim
Rameeza Nasim was born and lives in Karachi, Pakistan. Holding a masters degree in English Literature and Linguistics, she makes her living through writing and Blogging. Poetry is her Passion and it's something in her genes.