Tanka 2

Offer me your heart,
And I will remodel it;
Patching up its cracks,
Polishing bright its dull skin,
For all to see, its beauty.
Gerry Sikazwe

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Blood For A Maize Cob

Image
We spoke words, We sung our emotions loud, We felt fiery feelings for each other, We shared smiles, we shared frowns, We played in the rain, we wrestled in the mud, But today we are against each other, Today we are pointing not only fingers of accusations but actual machetes, My folks why are we at war? * Remind me please, why are we fighting? Is it because Ngwenya's son stole a cob of maize from Chona's field? Is it because of hunger found in our own brothers household, that we choose to spill blood? When we were young, remember, we stole not for hunger but for pleasure, Even then, our parents never in a moon wished to shed blood, Our parents never sworn enmity, never disowned each other because they knew that children are children, Now our son has stolen for hunger, a noble cause, Why then should we fight, men of one house? Why my brothers should blood be shed? Why should blood of our very own be spilt? * Is our blood of equal value with maize? Should our blood be of eq...
Read more

Mpande, Crush Of The Gods

Mpande, daughter of the great hunter Shula, Apple of my eye, from whom the stars borrow their glow, You who makes the beauty of soft colorful flowers questionable, with your queenly build, Mpande the admired of the gods of our village. Listen to the gossip of birds as they sit chattering to themselves while you pass, They alleged singing that your are admired of the gods, Do hear the mighty mountains pause in awe, dazzled by your charming beauty as you walk by Entertaining in their minds insinuations, thoughts of you being desired by gods, yes glorious gods of our land, Look up and see the stars peep almost falling off from the sky to catch a glimpse of you, the goddess beloved of their fair masters, Take time also to watch trees in their might bow in reverence to she, you, who mesmerizes not men but gods too, A beauty arrayed in black soil, formed from Bangweulu waters and Mungwi clay, A woman thirsted and hungered for by the witty gods, to wed , to own. Gerry Sikazwe
Read more

Work, Work, Work

Toil is the only recipe for survival, Those who shun it, lean and unhappy die, Toil is the talent the old master gave to all, Multiply it, and he shall richly reward thee. Wise son, despise neither her nature nor dress, Detest not her, lust after her as youths with folly desire wine, Only she will walk you through your youth and anciency, Only she will love you till your heart fails. Work, work, work and work alway, Riches to amass, control of men to cage, Seek her lovingly, follow her biddings alway, Into gold than of Midas, your touch shall become.
Read more