Scribbles

Hear her speak, Its flames of wild fire burning sweet sensations down your ears, Imbued in wisdom and traditions of our ancestors, Clothed in enchantment of the blue sky.  Of her bewitching build none competes, Not the texture of the sun’s rays or that of petals of roses, Fairly not even the phenomenal tombs of pharaohs with all their might, It is just uniquely sophisticated. Talk of her character, Beautiful and heavenly, As the display of shiny pearls which populate the skies at night, As the glow on one’s face ignited by genuine happiness. She is a splendid gem, A woman of Africa, Of beauty kneaded from black earth A woman to adore!. Gerry Sikazwe Model: Angelina Shamz Picture Credit: Lobe Musonda

                                                          br.pinterest.com/explore/turbantes-africanos-946853069773/ The thought of losing you to another, The thought of giving you up to the next in line, That I cannot stand, That blow I cannot survive, So I want you badly. You and what you make me feel, Your beauty and that accompanying wit, Is the only sense this world makes, Is the only truth there is of what “alive” really is, So I want you badly. I need you like breath, you are my breath, I need you like trees do roots; you are my footing, Nothing fills my life with color like you do, Nothing paints my life this bright as you, So I want you badly. You and what you make me feel, Your beauty and that accompanying wit, Is the only sense this world makes, Is the only truth there is of wha...

There is a song that warms me There is a rhythm that tickles me. There is a poem that romances me, There is a portrait that is enslaving to me. There is a star that winks at me, only at me it seems, There is a breeze that serenades seductively to me, only to me it seems. Gerry Sikazwe Picture By: Vantage Point Model: Angelina Shamz

Inspiration by Nomatama Wamundila  Home is a cave wherein resides genuine merriment and happiness,  Home is a haven of bright smiles and warm laughter.  A home can be a four walled room in which six people make space for each other warmly,  It can be a mud plastered hut thatched with grass, in which a bond than glue holds hearts closely.  A home might still be a well-built Victorian mansion,  With beauty as of butterflies sewn into its skin,  With chandeliers hung glittering like twinkling stars in a clear night,  And with floors smooth and clear like mirrors, that if you look so long you can almost see the reflection of your own soul.  But a home is the same however,  As it is just pasture on the riverside, on which we lay our weary bones and sore flesh,  It is a shade below a tree, under which we sit looking to the sky so that energy we invigorate and our spirits we rest.  Home is a cave, ...

There is a beautiful girl that smiles for me, I do not know her very well, I do not think she knows me that well either, But still this girl smiles at me. Her smile is sincere, just like the Sun's warmth, Her eyes as piercing as stares of stars in a clear night, She smiles for me without restrain, And she smiles at me with the warmest of smiles. This beautiful girl smiles at me, With a smile that is rare, priceless, This beautiful girl smiles for me, With a smile that causes my heart to uncontrollably leap. Should I tell her I have fallen for her? Should I confess that her smile has bewitched me? Beautiful girl, has got to be mine, Beautiful girl that smiles at me, what will it cost to make her mine? Gerry Sikazwe Picture By: Vantage Point Model: Angelina Shamz

Before you came, And your voice with my ears shared, Before you came, And your hands my heart lay claim of, I doubted life was capable of such charm as you. Before you came, And your smile warmed my soul, Before you came, And your heart taught me love, I thought love was just in tales, in poems. Before you came, And your mind’s beauty displayed, Before you came, And your wisdom, inscribed in my ways, I threw right over wrong, folly tasted sweeter. Before you came, And my sight sharpened, Before you came, And my thoughts elevated, I was going to forfeit you, alas you chose me! Gerry Sikazwe

P ART  O NE   The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.    The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.    The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,    And the highwayman came riding—           Riding—riding—  The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.  He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,    A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin.  They fitted with never a wrinkle. His boots were up to the thigh.    And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,           His pistol butts a-twinkle,  His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.  Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard.  He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all...

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

Yesterday, It was easy to love you; To sooth your heart, With words from my tongue, To set ablaze your face, By mere smiles and laughter. Not today, not any more. Yesterday, It was easy to love you. Not now when you've changed, Not today when another woman you've become. Now when shamelessly, you wear someone else's skin, And learned ways of the unwise. Yesterday, It was easy to love you, For then you were pure, void of any stain; Natural with beauty of the dawning Sun, Not today, not anymore For you're no longer a shine apple in my eyes, You've lost your sparkle. Yesterday, It was easy to love you; To shelter and protect you, To embrace and caress you, To forgive and start afresh with you, But not anymore. You gave up on yourself and us, Its a fix to love you, now. Gerry Sikazwe

What shall I name thee? Ye who hath tamed, enslaved mine rebellious heart, What shall I call thee? Ye whose beauty hath clouded mine eyes. Should I refer to you as a deer fair, that grazes the Serengeti, Would you respond if I called you rose, a flower that dazzles the human eye with bewitching colorfulness, What shall I call you, ye thief of my heart? What would you prefer me name you, O twinkling star? Gerry Sikazwe Picture By: Vantage Point Model: Angelina Shamz

  Your eyes twinkle with an alien light, Your mouth smiling, that moment, is heart-melting, Your voice rings with sweet sensations that tickle their way into my ears, Your touch, that embrace, has warmth which many just meet in dreams. Woman, you are a goddess golden, Woman, you are a star pearly; The desire of all men awake, The treasure which every sharp-eyed pirate insanely endeavours to pick, The dream most minds think impossible to conceive, Mpande, my woman, The only daughter of Shula the old hunter. Gerry Sikazwe

We lie cuddling in each other's arms, Seeking safety from cold earthly harms, We speak out our dreams, of fears and hopes; Tearing down our walls of insecurities, with warmth from our glued palms, So that we be tight, as tied nylon ropes. Warm love is the burden of our young hearts, Unaware of its sharpness, us it cuts, Deep, into our souls it pricks, numbing our senses, But still in love we vow to wallow, shunning lusts, For we know, we will only dwell safely, under love's lenses. Gerry Sikazwe

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

 Love is for the weak,  And wine for the strong.  I'm a valiant knighted warrior,  One who has no nature of frailty,  But what shall I be?  But what shall I do?  Now, that my heart a lass has plucked,  Now that she holds it deep in her hands.  Must I drink wine and so lose thoughts of her into tots?  Or must I just fall in love and weak forever be?  Love is for the weak,  But wine is for the strong. Gerry Lines

 The first day we met, the first time you saw me I was young, a baby  The first time I saw you, the first day I met you I was shy, my lady  I remember forming my first poem later,  It was about you, about how much I didn't understand who you where  I don't remember its full contents, but it was lovely  I must have lost and forgot it along the path to youth somewhere.  The first time I witnessed your beauty, was when you were just from waking up, in the morning  You looked beautiful even with your hair untidy, face wrinkled, with your smile dim and your whole body marked by the reed mat you previously laid on,  Your beauty pulled me toward you as gravity to the ground and within me was left no more energy to fight your claws.  So each day before you awoke, I would awake and outside sit to wish you a good day,  I would ensure that my day is fully spent on seeing  you off as you travelled to the west, ...

If stars ever bloomed, Would their flowers be fair and bright as the face of this moment? If winds did one day sing beautifully, Would their songs express accurately the feelings felt in this moment? If magic had the ability to write a different fate, Would it style a spell, for transforming into eternity this moment? For no bang or whisper, No thrill or spill, can beat this time’s rare sweetness; A time when broken dreams are pieced together, from head to sole ever to walk tall, A time in which fierce fear is vanquished; melting its cold manipulative grip, A time of peace, serene than that of crawling water, of love than that spoken of by poetic lines. A time worth pausing, A time worth caging, A time worth being in, right next to you. 

Let us dance to the beating of our hearts, Let us hold hands under the smiling sky, Let us cage our dreams as we have our shadows. For we are masters, masters with whips, On horses in our minds, let us ride, from earth to the lonesome sky, We are to bury our sorrows in burning,  sand Exposing our bold strength to the unknown we often fear, To live unhaunted, to live freely.