Menopause

By 

Francis Chidavaenzi 

Menopause!

Men-o-pause 

Men oppose 

The woman’s lustre now lacking

Her body systems their bags now packing 

For more love and attention she starts begging 

The party is over now 

The bottles have run dry 

 Through the window romance flies 

No more monthly drippings of that red wine 

The music has stopped 

How hard it is to play loose strings

Of an aged cracky love’s guitar

The show is over now 

On stage the performers bow

And the curtain comes down

 The curves and all flesh to gravity bow 

Like a flag raised halfway 

In mourning of a fallen hero!

© F. Chidavaenzi, 2011.

Be Grateful

By

Sympathy Sibanda

We spend our lives

Pouting

Complaining

Shrugging

And blaming

Weigh the reasons to mourn

With your reasons to smile

Give thanks for the little

For another,

The little is not even a dream away

Stop pouting

Give thanks

Be grateful

To this baby and many others,

The left overs,

We throw in our bins

Are a heavenly banquet

© S. Sibanda, 2011

Untitled

By 

Francis Chidavaenzi

My life is brilliant 

My love is pure

  I saw an angel 

Of that I am sure...

(c) F. Chidavaenzi, 2011

Untitled

By Sympathy Sibanda

when love is hot,
you think it will never wax cold
what happened to true love
celebrate if you have it
preserve it if its in your haven
welcome it if its at your doorstep

(c) S. Sibanda, 2011

TORN APART

By
Phillip Chidavaenzi

Since you’ve been gone

Like a crater,

Of its volcano relieved,

I ache –

Profusely,

Bleeds my heart

Like a political pamphlet,

With worn-out slogans,

A part of me,

You tore away.

(C) P. Chidavaenzi, July 2 2011 

All rights reserved.

Recollections of Domboshava

By Tichaona Zindoga 

Sweet innocent youth,

Broken by some moments uncouth. 

Growing in a village 

Where fires of dry season rage 

Not with malice; 

Perhaps to prepare the land for a summer chalice 

Of cool summer rain – the long wait has not been in vain. 

Plenitude. 

Poverty. 

Plenty. 

Want. 

Seasons: a life’s course 

Bobbing back and forth with natural force.

A people owning all: 

The mountain, the valley, the waterfall. 

Caves. 

Paintings: some great times past 

A history in and on stone cast 

Mystery. 

Drums beating in Ngomakurira 

Free booze in Musungwa. 

Not red not black: 

Something in between, 

A rock, a dome so coloured: 

Domboshava. 

© T. Zindoga, 2011. 

All rights reserved.