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Sunday, March 28, 2021

Fighting For Life

 
Tafadzwa Chiwanza
—Poetry by Tafadzwa Lemuel Chiwanza, Harare, Zimbabwe
—Public Domain Photos of Harare, Zimbabwe



I WROTE ABOUT THIS TOWN

Harare's streets
are wounds dripping pus
in the form of decaying dust.

Each receding road
a caricature of Hiroshima's sequel,
where dreams were bombed to dust
in a sniff of unholy guka makavela

these roads are patches
from a ragged rug long discarded,
suddenly dropped on dinner table.

the town's streets are broken,
branching into secret meetings
where plots to leave for Europe are discussed.

these streets are like veins,
coursing through the dust bin,
leading to no further than yesterday. 
 
 
 

 
 
QUILLS, THORNS AND PORCUPINES

eat the quills
and discard the porcupine,
what use is tasty food
to a tongue bent on eating dust?
Perchance, a savour of your own blood,
senses long dead could awaken.

prickle the wretched pink softness.
let salty redness well up in your mouth,
to make wet the sandpaper posing as a tongue.
if some gore could wash your teeth
long used to digging solid earth,
then perhaps in the unpleasantness lies safety:

for the quills protect the porcupine,
as I like thorns guard you, Oh rose of mine. 
 
 
 

 
 
FROM BEHIND THE SMOKED GLASS
            (for Marshall Muranda)

Death's Jaws
soft as a whisper from a lover's lips,
Gently strokes its prey with silent lullabies,
Sung from mists and gases
brought to the milky way from nebula,
a gothic prothalamion for an unholy marriage:
death and flesh helplessly tangled
in an indissoluble embrace
to give a turbid climax to a turgid megillah,
life's pendulum oscillating
from one form of death to another,
as is the script written,
the actor must ready to leave the stage.
 
 
 

 
 
LOVE ETERNAL

an invisible hand scribbles,
a book in which you and I are—
a perfect harmony absent labels:
just the sound of a distant guitar.

the silence whispers our names,
as songs of us fade into echoes
down the corridors of love flames
in which we ignite the goddess Echo

when dawn lays siege to dusk's walls
among the ash, a voice will speak of us
who even gloomy silence intently adores:
known as a lovesick lad and his bonny lass.

only our names will remain when all is gone,
And they will tell of the love we have known. 
 
 
 

 
 
FIGHTING FOR LIFE FROM DEATH THAT SHATTERS

(after learning that my sister tested positive for Corona)

 
Ashes in my mouth.
what bitter taste ravages the senses
as a savage nausea churns my insides!
fear of being a statistic on tomorrow's news
peddles my clock anticlockwise,
to an apocalyptic semi-real reality
where all lies beneath rubble
with blaring screams echoing,
from another non-existing existence.
time collapses on my knees:
the Crown-Shaped one has snapped
my sister between his carnivorous Jaws

and mother and I have been exposed... 
 
 
 

 

MOTHER NATURE CALL
(21/02/21)

In the breeze and chirping birds.
In rippling waters and glistening sun.
In soft silence and infinite vegetation,
I felt your hands reaching out to me.

In the waters kissing rocks' edges.
In the plants growing under water.
In the shrubs dancing by the riverside,
I heard you whisper my name.

by an incestuous passion,
my senses senselessly tickled,
to stand naked before your ancient gaze
a raunchy infant before mother's infinite eyes

___________________

Today’s LittleNip:

Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.

—Leonard Cohen

____________________

This morning we have a visiting poet from Zimbabwe! Tafadzwa Lemuel Chiwanza is a University Of Zimbabwe Zim accounting student, currently with Deloitte. He says that when he is not bean-counting, he creates vivid metaphors whose existence lies between poetry lines. He writes about the dusty streets of Chitungwiza, where everything you see is made of poetry. A publisher of a poetry anthology titled,
No Bird Is Singing Now?, Tafadzwa is currently working on two more collections. He has had his work featured in various local newspapers such as The Standard and The Herald. He currently resides in Harare, Zimbabwe, his homeland.

Welcome to the Kitchen, Tafadzwa, and don’t be a stranger! For more about the city of Harare, see face2faceafrica.com/article/the-interesting-history-of-harare-the-capital-city-of-zimbabwe-founded-in-1890/.

____________________

—Medusa
 
 
 
Tafadzwa Chiwanza
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 



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