December dribbles her signature dance towards January, shaking off jackets of Christmas fever welcoming 2020 flipping pages into another millennium. We are capping this year of diversity with a blessing of global poetry. This journal celebrates the power in togetherness and the vintage of diversity .Poets and poems featured in this special journal represent the magic of poetry on this once peaceful but now war whipped earth we call WORLD. It is a selection of defiant but nonviolent spear like words hunting for justice in the deep gutters of war, expedience and digging for peace underneath crude pits of tyranny. To expose dictatorial vagaries and totalitarian imbecility perpetuated by blood suckers and powers mongers on this our earth .Our God the Almighty , Lord created Poets with the wisdom of revolutionizing and cleansing the world of its political dirty and wash it clean from the trash of toxic corruption. This journal is a global reprint of poetic footprints retracing us from the days we started to our destiny, TODAY. Today fingers of grandchildren are burnt in hot pans of political authoritarian regimes. We have become grandsons and daughters of preceding autocratic soup kitchens. We are clutching on the legacy of economic seizures, terroristic trances, war commerce and commodification of refugees. We are the wretched vagabonds clutching on the torn flags of banana republics. Hoodlums praising remorseless wizards and lizards grabbing the sunlight of our lives in broad light. Our featured Poet Profile in this December special offing is Jamie Dedes( profile enclosed).The poets here are some of the remaining voices hard nut bolt resistant enough to be swallowed by the imbecilic, corrupt and crude global political clout.Keshab Sigdel (NEPAL),Anjum Wasim Dar( Pakistan), Mbonisi Zikhali( Canada- Zimbabwe) , Robson Shoes Lambada( Zimbabwe), Taofeek Ayeyemi ( Nigeria), Kushal Poddar( India), Nancy Ndeke( Kenya) , Samson Abanni( Zimbabwe) and Michael Dickel ( Israel), James Coburn ( USA), Tracy Yvonne Breazile( America) and Author Omwa Ombara( USA-KENYA). Poets remain peoples commissars and messengers of truth-
Mbizo Chirasha ( CURATOR of MiomboPublishing and Editor of TIME OF THE POET JOURNAL).
A DIRGE OF HOPE TO SUDAN
Sudan the great has fallen
A million salty tears cannot fill the Nile
The land of giants has dwarfed into shadowy ghosts
Red eyes cannot light the cooking stones
Offended spirits roam the land in search of their former selves
Chaos reign, the scorching sun cooks animal carcasses
The calves have died with milk on the teats
Vultures long dead are not invited to the feast
The dead cannot bury the dead
Lord of tears, rescue me.
Death has camped in Sudan
The source of the River Nile has been defiled into a desert
The wicked Janjaweed beat death drums
The cobweb of impunity weaves corruption, greed, war
Foreign arms grind machinery of destruction
Endless power hunger games rip open wombs of pregnant mothers
Isn’t Killer games, the enemy’s gain?
I cry but my tears have no gain
Not until Sudan rises again.
Sudan’s jails are filthy layers of stifled innocent souls
Charged with imaginary crimes from the head of a deranged government
A decayed tooth whose loose system leaves toothless smelly mouths, caves
Till when, Mama? Till when?
Peace talks are the rugs on which berserk leaders wipe their bloody feet
Caked soles of feet in Bloody shoes soaked in rivers of blood
Bashir the wicked jigger has fed on the flesh of his people for eons
His fleecy naughty bedbug toy guns flash a weeping trail of destruction
Not even the highest court in the world can hold him
The ICC, the leaders’ kalongolongo children’s game
Sudan’s crisis is the cry of many rivers
Sudan’s Sickler, harvests death like a bottomless pit
Sudan has become an open grave
Loose shooting canon, fire spitting snakes
Life mocker, get away from me
The Buzz of a million houseflies is your favourite song
What day of the week, were you born?
You are a shame to the universe
Your brother’s death does not stop your sleeping pangs
Your children, what? Child soldiers.
The leaders of Sudan have no brothers or sisters
Sudan’s poverty is the joy of the colonizer
The master reigns supreme
Our leaders have opened the granary to strangers
Their green colored forest clothes the death signature
Sudan’s helpless tears only dry up the barren soil.
Sudan’s fake eyelashes have fallen
Adults cry like children and there are no children to cry
Darfur exposes the raw jaundiced eye of horror and injustice
Africa, North, South, East, West
Lamentations. Lamentations. Lamentations.
Sudan crisis is the cry of rivers of blood and tears
Rivers that flow in red blood and mixes with rich oil
Discolored by wars of greed, gold and oil
Sudan crisis is the cry of deserts
Turned into quarries of hidden guns
Sparkling in deadly smiles
As government eats her children
Sudan crisis, the naked cry of the earth
Earth filled with limbless bodies, ashes
Earth cannot recognize her own and feeds them to the worms
The justice train is slow no matter how fully you oil it
Women of Sudan arise
Save your children from these monsters who occupy state houses
Hold your wombs and breasts, invoke the power within
The children you suckled and nurtured have turned against you
The children have slipped from the nest and become monsters
You cannot give up
You must not give up
Mothers of Sudan, arise and claim your space
You have suffered enough
The senseless leaders have declared Sudan an orphan
Daughters of Sudan arise and fight back
The battle is yours, my sisters
Our hopes lie in you
Poetry Nation, Arise
You are the last weapon left standing
To rescue our sister Nation
AUTHOR OMWA OMBARA
Contributing Editor (Global Women and Artist Rights Reviews) is AUTHOR OMWA OMBARA –The Editor in Chief at Tujipange Africa Media, a diaspora based Magazine in United States of America. A Consul at Large at poetasdelmundo.com /POETS OF THE WORLD .A motivational speaker. Writers Consultant with her amazing projects, Walks and Talks and Tips for Writers Show .Omwa is a political Asylee for seven years. An International investigative journalist, poet, vocalist, performing and visual artist. She is author of a Memoir, “God’s Child on The Run.” .Published in several anthologies including Our Secret Lives, Holding the Center and other journals of International acclaim. Omwa is a former Bureau Chief, The Standard Group and has published over 4000 articles in her journalism career spanning 20 years. Her passion for standing up to power and corrupt leaders in the media circles is unmatched. Her experience in journalism spans from more than two decades. She stands firm against the abuse of power, corruption and mass killings .she is an advocate of true journalism. She comes aboard with her vast understanding of global humanity issues, journalistic experiences and women rights knowledge. She holds a postgraduate diploma in journalism and mass communication and a BA degree from the University of Nairobi.
Sopranic echoes of silence
Aggravate the complications of my bitterness
The high-pitched voice of muteness
Pricks the inner wound covering my tears
which will only dry when freedom is freed.
A whirlwind and fragment
Of thoughts entirely flummoxes my conscience
When I imagine hand-cuffed and leg-ironed freeom:
Freedom behind bars!
They fought for freedom
Were awarded freedom
Celebrated, dined and wined for and with freedom
Yet when freedom uttered her free thoughts,
Parardoxically they frantically slapped freedom in the face
And silenced her by a battery of diabolic statutes.
The inspired voice of freedom now speaks in silence
Visiting in my dreams like an ancestral instruction
I hear sopranic echoes of silence
Aggravating the complications of my bitterness.
The high-pitched voice of muteness
Pricking the inner wound
Which will only heal and dry when freedom is freed.
ROBSON ISAAC SHOES LAMBADA is the National Coordinator of Zimbabwe Poets for Human Rights, an artistic collective of wordsmiths tackling human rights issues in Zimbabwe and globally. Lambada is a writer, performance poet, critic and arts administrator also working with the only literature festival in Zimbabwe (LitFest Harare) as its Festival Administrator. He was born in Kadoma in 1981 where he started his artistic career at Jameson High School. He has performed his work to several audience in Zimbabwe at almost all arts festivals that include the Harare International Festival of Arts (HIFA), Shoko Festival, Dzimbahwe Arts Festival, Ukubambana Youth Peace Festival and Protest Arts International Festival where he was an artistic consultant responsible for the spoken word segment. Shoes Lambada has traveled with his work to countries that include among others United States of America, Germany, Netherlands, South Africa, India, Zambia, Malawi and Namibia.
I WILL SILENCE THE GUN
I am writing a letter to booze sodden political crocodiles
I will not silence the sun, I want to silence the gun
I am writing a letter to nicotine burnt brothers and to tear bleached mothers
Holding on to their sun burnt dreams that I will not silence the sun.
I want to silence the gun
I am writing a letter to villages wallowing in furnaces of grief.
I want to silence the gun. I will not silence the Sun. am writing a
letter to the president about hawker economy and festivals of
motorcades sirens. Freedom is candlelight in the bedroom of hope!
I am writing a letter to dissidents farting hatred in Congo
Congo, My Nagasaki pimping the state for hot bread and cheap slogans.
Darfur, My Hiroshima, fermenting coup d’états in breweries of war
Dissidents plucking off the petals of the revolution. Drinking the
passion fruit of freedom
I want to silence the gun. I will not silence the sun
I am writing a letter to Msholozi ,I will not silence the sun. I want
to silence the gun
Madiba is no more, A heart break to Azania
River that carried our smell and totems.
River that coursed with our past and present.
Madiba the summer sun that melted into the hazy mountains leaving
behind,Children wetting the rainbow mat with stale urine
Beer- coholics drunk with xenophobia. Hawkers vending guns for gain
Casanovas pimping freedom for slogan. Black freedom toting fists for revenge
I see people with stones heavy in their hearts
Trembling in the delight of fading rain
Dieting from gossip and fear
In a country smitten by ego and arrogant ambition
A country that lost its character and salt, infected by moral dementia.
Drinking from jars of sorrow every dawn. I will not silence the
drums, I want to silence sirens
I will not silence the sun, I want to silence the gun.
I am packing a powerful poem for supper, tasting political carrot
and potato. I will not silence the griots.
I want to silence republics.
Mandela went with his oranges, we no longer enjoy the vitamin
Children suffer from the scurvy of freedom,
On this earth farting unpleasant smell of corruption and political joke
See, crocodiles dancing in rivers waiting for rain
China eating berries with monkeys in Serengeti
Yeoville lulled to sleep by nigger hip-hop and Jamaican reggae
Africa drinking red wine in the sun of Washington.
America walking barefoot in diamond villages
Slums burning in sex and cigars
Smoke of gossip choking, nations sneezing burden
Nations coughing heavy smoke of burning coal of corruption
Savana babies biting bullets in slums of freedom miscarriages
Revolutionary abortions! I will not silence the griots
I want to silence the gun, I will not silence the sun.
I love America. I am writing a love letter to America. I will not
silence the drums. I want to silence the wind. Wind that brought
evils. Evils lurking in murky waters. I love America. I am writing a
letter to the gods of America. I hate chocolate coated bitter smiles
I am a peasant drinking water and sipping Coca-Cola. I learnt English
and Coca-Cola. I will not silence the sun, I want to silence the gun,
I am writing a letter to Obama and America to sing a different song.
I want to silence the gun. I will not silence the sun. I am writing a
letter to America and Obama that I will not silence the sun. I want to
silence the gun. I am a child of the rainbow and stone.
MBIZO CHIRASHA is the Poet in Residence at the Fictional Café (International publishing and literary digital space). 2019 Sotambe Festival Live Literature Hub and Poetry Café Curator. 2019 African Fellow for the International Human Rights Art Festival( ihraf.org) , Essays Contributor to Monk Art and Soul Magazine in United Kingdom .Arts Features Writer at the International Cultural Weekly . Founder and Chief Editor of WOMAWORDS LITERARY PRESS. Founder and Curator of the Brave Voices Poetry Journal. Co-Editor of Street Voices Poetry triluangal collection( English , African Languages and Germany) intiated by Andreas Weiland in Germany. Poetry Contributor to AtunisPoetry.com in Belgium. African Contributor to DemerPress International Poetry Book Series in Netherlands. African Contributor to the World Poetry Almanac Poetry Series in Mongolia. His latest 2019 collection of experimental poetry A LETTER TO THE PRESIDENT was released by Mwanaka Media and Publishing and is both in print, on Amazon.com and at is featured at African Books Collective. 2003 Young Literary Arts Delegate to the Goteborg International Book Fair Sweden (SIDA AFRICAN PAVILION) .2009 Poet in Residence of the International Conference of African Culture and Development (ICACD) in Ghana. 2009 Fellow to the inaugural UNESCO- Africa Photo- Novel Publishers and Writers Training in Tanzania. 2015 Artist in Residence of the Shunguna Mutitima International Film and Arts Festival in Livingstone, Zambia. A globally certified literary arts influencer, Writer in Residence and Recipient of the EU-Horn of Africa Defend Defenders Protection Fund Grant, Recipient of the Pen Deutschland Exiled Writer Grant. He is an Arts for Peace and Human Rights Catalyst, the Literary Arts Projects Curator, Poet, Writer, publicist is published in more 200 spaces in print and online
The night gets so cold that the stars all go inside.
But the moon will always stay behind.
And I will tiptoe to the edge of reality and reach out to it.
And through the silvered glass of my imagination
our hands will meet.
It will smile and disturb the peace of earth’s aquarium,
with its eight billion fishes, already in bed.
I will then wander to the microphone,
where announcements are made to all galaxies.
Then observe the footprints of a thousand souls,
As they approach that point were two roads diverge,
to two different fates.
The night gets so cold that my logic and faith sit side by side. For warmth.
And From the mix of their exhaled air, I find unity.
And i realise that there are no problems anywhere. Only unanswered questions.
But here in earth’s aquarium there’s so much noise,
because one can never know the extent of what one does not know.
None has a map of his ignorance.
And the train of life never waits
And who will blame it,
since it has an eternity to cover.
SAMSON ABANNI is a medical student who has the gift of words. He is poet who has a way of telling stories and inspiring change through his poetry which he sees as a tool of healing and a call to action. He has won some poetry awards and received high recognition as a poet of the new era. He has a great following in social media where his works are consumed with relish. He also organizes poetry contests to support upcoming poets. He loves words and writes as if his life depends on it.
The restaurant tables were empty
Except the sugar-pots and thin layers of dust on them.
Few house-flies used liberty to swirl around
And occasionally landed on the table to toss their ‘mouths.’
For me, it was enough to smile all alone!
Oh, sorry… I didn’t notice them,
They’re already seated on the chairs.
Sorry, I didn’t really hear them talking;
Probably, it wasn’t the right time to smile.
But unfortunately I did it.
And they stared, and frowned at my incivility.
They pulled out the napkins, then sneezed and coughed,
And bruised their noses in the best civility possible.
I hate Kathmandu. I too hate it.
They were cursing the dust, which they think
Is solely responsible for their misery.
I was really sorry for them.
That was not the last meeting anyway,
There were occasions when we met again.
Every time we met thereafter,
I was conscious not to smile
But would pull out a napkin, and sneeze in civility!
KESHAB SIGDEL is a poet, translator and academic based in Kathmandu, Nepal. Editor of An Anthology of Contemporary Nepali Poetry (Big Bridge, USA, 2016), his other poetry books include Samaya Bighatan (2007) and Colour of the Sun (Slovenia, 2017). He edits academic and literary journals including Of Nepalese Clay and Rupantaran His recent translation works include anthologies of modern Chinese and Nigerian poetry. He is an International Committee Member of World Poetry Movement. He is also the recipient of several literary awards including Bhanubhakta Gold Medal (2014), Kalashree Creative Award (2015), Rock Pebbles International Literature Award (India, 2018) and Youth Year Moti Award for Literature (2018). Currently, he is an assistant professor of English at Tribhuvan University in Kathmandu. He can be reached at email@example.com
DO NOT THROW PEBBLES
Rain drops beating against the window
first with short intervals,then a steady-
down pour, a storm is a deafening roar
voices drowned, subdued will be raised
again, will rise and soar for the needy
humanity, half naked, soaked in pain
enchained in spirit, starved in poverty
‘Do not throw pebbles at any color, for it
is strong, true, permanent, natural –
bonded with water, glass will not shatter
do not think me as different, I may be
similar in thought action and love,I may
be braver, but I have a heart, I know how
to play fair, and care, and share, I stare
at the world with surprise, I am tender
I am a person but through other people’
I know how to be human through other
humans, desert dark at night is gold
in daylight, serpents slither in rocks too
unseen unknown, black is gold and gold
black and I am a person only through
other people’-I am like the moon, lit
only by the sun, I am dark too, bonded
with Earth, inseparable, I shine for others
‘I am a person only through other people’
Do not throw pebbles…
ANJUM WASIM DAR ,born in Srinagar (Indian Occupied )Kashmir,Migrant Pakistani.Educated at St Anne’s Presentation Convent Rawalpindi. MA in English . Writing poems articles and stories since 1980.Published Poet.Awarded Poet of Merit Bronze Medal 2000 USA .Worked as Creative Writer Teacher Trainer. Educational Consultant by Profession.
I WITNESS HOW THIS LAND CUTS ITS OWN WRIST
last night’s gusty wind chased a giant rat into the grave, its prints are everywhere
in the muddy soil but the holes are
blocked with the victims of the
pelting rain. the trees are now humble –
bowing to every passersby. they say
the tempest was a pathetic fallacy,
expressing the pain of a land dissolving
into itself, beaten by the monkeys
feeding from its crops even when
unripe for harvest. when Musa fled
Firhaun to the Red Sea, he parted
the sea and walked away; this land also
parted its own sea but got stuck in between:
in a Bermuda triangle, breathing but
bleeding so much that sea has turned red.
a judge hits his gavel against a culprit,
it sounded like a jackal giving the hyena
a slap on the wrist. & in days, friends
& family beat drums & the streets to
welcome their sons as if returning from a
battle field. but when foreign justice hit,
you see them going fifty thousand feet,
fifty thousand feet below ground level.
LISTING THE SOURCE OF MY GRIEF
before grandpa died, he has told us that
when a parrot goes silent, check its throat,
fear must have built its nest therein,
its world must have been in danger. but
my silence is defined as way a child begins
the act of stubbornness. so mother says
“the husband of a stubborn child is cane.”
but she forgets to add “eyes that carry
thorns & voice that strikes like thunder:”
every morning, father’s voice breaks into
my body & stores dozens of thunderstones
in my ribcage. & at night, mother’s eye cut
into my heart so deep that my brain leaks through
it. until i was reduced to talking to the only
person who understands my grief: myself –
before whom i can only talk confidently.
last night, i was counting & dictating the
scars their canes left on my body to myself,
a voice of a comedian sounded from the
television. the joke dulled my pain so much
that i laughed, so hard that the whole room
shifted their gazes to me & i realized that
i was the only one who heard the joke.
TAOFEEK AYEYEMI fondly called Aswagaawy is a Nigerian lawyer and writer. His works have appeared or are forthcoming in The Quills, Kalahari Review, Nthanda Review, The Pangolin Review, Tuck Magazine, Akitsu Quarterly, Haibun Today, CHO, Modern Haiku, Prune Juice, Frogpond, Cattails, Seashores and elsewhere. He won the 2018 Poetic Wednesday Poetry Contest, Second Prize 2016 Christopher Okigbo Poetry Prize and Honorable Mention Prize in the 1st Morioka International Haiku Contest, 2019 among others.
PROFILE OF THE YEAR IS PUBLISHER AND GLOBAL EDITOR , POET JAMIE DEDES ( USA)
I am an American writer and activist. I grew up in Brooklyn, New York (the Center of the Universe) and was raised by my mother and grandmother who were Lebanese and the Sisters of St. Joseph, Brentwood, L.I., N.Y. In another lifetime, I was a columnist, a publicist, and an associate editor to a regional employment publication. I also worked in social services as an employment counselor, case manager/superisor, career center manager, and ultimately as a planner in a government planning office with duties that included writing position papers, requisitions for proposals, and grant applications. I’ve had to reinvent myself to accommodate chronic and catastrophic illness, which has me home bound, sometimes bed bound. The gift in this is time for literature, my primary passion, and social justice advocacy, my primary mission.I live in a Northern California facility for disabled elders and work from a comfy bed where I’ve carved out a busy life writing feature articles, short stories, and poetry and managing The BeZine and its associated activities (including yearly on the fourth Saturday of September in collaboration with Israeli poet, Michael Dickel, virtual 100,000 Poets and Others for Change) and The Poet by Day jamiededes.com, an info hub for writers meant to feature and encourage activist poets and poetry, good but lesser-known poets, women and minority poets, outsider artists, and artists just finding their voices in maturity.I founded The Bardo Group, a virtual arts community, that publishes The BeZine of which I am the founding and managing editor. The goal of this collaborative is to foster proximity and understanding through our shared love of the arts and humanities and all things spirited and to make – however modest – a contribution toward personal healing and deference for the diverse ways people try to make moral, spiritual and intellectual sense of a world in which illness, violence, despair, loneliness and death are as prevalent as hope, friendship, reason and birth.The Poet by Day is dedicated to supporting freedom of artistic expression and human rights.My work has been published in digital and print publications. My primary professional affiliation is Second Light Network of Women Poets (U.K.)
2019 DIGITAL PUBLICATIONS: Five by Jamie Dedes on The World Literature Blog, Jamie Dedes, Versifier of Truth, Womawords Literary Press, November 19, How 100,000 Poets Are Fostering Peace, Justice, and Sustainability, YOPP! The Damask Garden, In a Woman’s Voice, August 11, 2019 / This short story is dedicated to all refugees. That would be one in every 113 people. Five poems, Spirit of Nature, Opa Anthology of Poetry, 2019 From the Small Beginning, Entropy Magazine (Enclave, #Final Poems), July 2019 Over His Morning Coffee, Front Porch Review, July 2019 * Three poems, Our Poetry Archive, September 2019
SONOGRAPHY OF THE BORDER
“Take good care, Kushal,
we die in the end.”
He has been dying in his white skin.
I have been in my ebony.
The border stands still in between –
a tombstone with an epitaph
scrivened in some demised tongue.
The barbwire mocks a withered wreath.
On one of its thorns sits a wraith of a raven.
“Take good cause,” it caws, “we die in the end.”
“Hello,” my long and distant diction drops a coin.
Tim and I have been turning pale as ticks the tim
KUSHAL PODDAR , Authored ‘The Circus Came To My Island’ (Spare Change Press, Ohio), A Place For Your Ghost Animals (Ripple Effect Publishing, Colorado Springs), Understanding The Neighborhood (BRP, Australia), Scratches Within (Barbara Maat, Florida), Kleptomaniac’s Book of Unoriginal Poems (BRP, Australia) and Eternity Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems (Hawakal Publishers, India) and now Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel (Alien Buddha Press)AuthorFacebookhttps://www.facebook.com/KushalTheWriter/Twitter- https://twitter.com/Kushalpoe.
where in our times we these rocks piled into buildings
that fell down a thousand years ago dis(re)membered from war
or earthquake raised and razed again into where nothing
recalls again the warm day anemones bloom hollyhocks
poppies forget no one and another rain day another dry day
pass hot and cold while an orvani drops blue feathers in flight
a hawk sits calmly on a fencepost and flocks of egrets
traipse toward the sea no cattle no grains all harvested
in this place we would call holy land nothing left to it but conflict
with the passing of her life that tried so hard to hang onto one
moment many moments missed so many more empty echoes
a difficult way to say goodbye to a mother watching her
evaporate like rain in the desert her mind dust that dries
lips her droned words faded as warmth from a midnight rock
meaning what the layers of history these rocks un-piled
reveal sepia photos a couple of tin-types dust school
reports cards newspaper holes the shells of bugs raised and razed
again and again into our times where nothing remembers
MICHAEL DICKEL (Meta /Phor (e) /Play) has won international awards and been translated into several languages. His latest poetry collection, Nothing Remembers, will come out late summer 2019 from Finishing Line Press. A poetry chapbook, Breakfast at the End of Capitalism, came out in 2017 (free PDF ). His flash fiction collection, The Palm Reading after The Toad’s Garden, came out in 2016. Previous books include: War Surrounds Us, Midwest / Mid-East, and The World Behind It, Chaos…(archived free PDF ). He co-edited Voices Israel Volume 36, was managing editor for arc-23 and 24, and is a past-chair of the Israel Association of Writers in English. He publishes and edits Meta/ Phor(e) /Play and is a contributing editor of The BeZine. He grew up in the US Midwest and now lives in Jerusalem, Israel.
For the burning bush and running deer,
Those that know no rest from a creature dull,
He wrecks life just because,
His sport bleeding shot’s just because,
I speak streams of fearsome tears,
For the jumbo wild unsafe,
The rhino with it’s calf unsafe,
The wailing teak plucked for fun,
By a creature spoiling for a fight,
Stretching his muscular rifle for a shot,
Felling life just because,
I stammer at the wantonness open,
Clearing bushes for commercial buz,
Unfeeling tractors thundering at water sheds,
Scattering paupers out with thirsty throats,
A season too late, parched throats crack with death,
I shudder with ethos at the drilling roles,
Of multinationals secular rapes,
Open ulcers left to ferment among the displaced,
They howl to the moon with empty bowls,
Crude merchants feeding their crooked looting,
Leaving owners, ownerless,
I rest not at ease at all,
My soul protests,
My heart beats oddity,
To hear the silence on the lips of celebrants,
Toasting wine and stolen kisses,
On a cruise ship in the open seas,
Retelling lies of sumptuous meals grabbed from shrunken bodies of men ashore,
Where body count piles by shovel daily,
And human carcasses litter the plains of pain,
As corporeal looters fly aloft with the ease of a kite,
I tremble with rage at rape celebrated,
I gnash my broken teeth from the injustice visited,
Remain birth in Africa,
And other spots where interests lay,
Soundless tearful prayers,
And shame of my curse comes out loud,
That the heart that plans evil,
Should die not,
Before tasting the cup of sorrow,
That others so generously poured,
It’s not revenge, it’s not hate,
It’s only a fair feel of how the shoeless feel,
Running for dear life,
While you keep truck on your cross hair of your powerful gun.
NANCY NDEKE is a Poet of international acclaim and a reputable literary arts consultant. Her writings and her
poetry are featured in several collections, anthologies and publications around the globe including the American magazine Wild Fire, Save Africa Anthology. World Federation of Poets in Mexico. Ndeke is a Resident Contributor of the Brave Voices Poetry Journal since mid-2018. African Contributor to the DIFFERENT TRUTHS, a publication that sensitizes the world on the plight of Autism edited by Aridham Roy. SAVE AFRCA ANTHOLOGY edited by Prof. Dave Gretch of Canada and reviewed by Joseph Spence Jr has featured her poetry and a paper on issues afflicting Africa and Africans. Ndeke’s poetry and other literatures in WILD FIRE PUBLICATION in America published by Susan Joyner Stumpf and Susan Brooke Langdon. ARCS MAGAZINE in New York Edited by DR. Anwer Ghani. Her women Arts Presentation was recently published by WOMEN OF ART (WOA) in Cape Coast in Ghana. Soy Poesia, in Peru, Claudette V pg 11 featured her writings with great reception.AZAHAR from Mexico, with the initiative from Josep Juarez has also featured her poetry. She is also featured in WORLD FESTIVAL OF POTRY (WFP) from Mexico under the able editorial team comprising Luz Maria Lopez .INTERNATIONAL AFRICAN WRITERS from Nigeria, under the able hands of Munyal Markus Manunyi .Patricia Amundsen from Australia featured her poetry on this year’s international women’s day at Messenger of Love, Radio Station. Esteemed poetess Jolly Bhattacharjee featured my works on her greatly acclaimed awareness anthology for 2019, India.
Gather around the pedestal that I built for you,
Just below your majestically decorated castle,
Guarded closely with your golden keys,
And those in deluge with sister slander,
Absence of justice in your courts of chaos,
Comes the fury of prejudice and pride,
Sly manipulation lies pretending purpose,
Much as your judgement deems worthy,
I falter to the ground and my vision is blurry,
Dealing in doubt and uncertainty,
I gather my confusion and stutter my truths,
As you unleash your lightening bolt into the thicket,
Crashing into the night with a raging fire,
I dance with the embers ‘till morning light,
While you devise an avalanche to extinguish the fire,
You dropped your mask and it tumbled to the ground,
In the dust of the avalanche, beneath the rubble of your pedestal,
I will leave you there to mind your mazes,
Thank you for the lessons in pride and greed,
But I have much more to learn,
I will be riding the winds of hope to better days,
Searching for the unconditional love,
That will put an end to your war on peace,
In that fire, I forged myself a master key of resilience.
TRACY YVONNE BREAZILE is a Writer living in the United States of America. She was granted the opportunity to serve as Writer/Mentor in Residence with the 2018 Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Mentorship Program, originated by Mbizo Chrirasha.Breazile studied Language and Literature with a concentration in Professional Writing at Columbus State University, Columbus, Georgia, USA. The graphic images collected here are selected from the 2018 Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Mentorship Program Poetic Rhetoric and Composition Workbook she created to aid participants seeking to learn about poetic forms and functions. She would like to help people voice their feelings and attitudes about the many conflicts and dilemmas that frequent the human frame. She is currently working with Mbizo Chrirasha in hopes to inspire writers to create short stories. The program aims to discover the mechanics of the short story and illustrate some of the various genre and styles that a writer might like to utilize in their stories. Peace is her passion. She is currently working on a collection of poetry echoing culture and customs of Africa. This work includes definitions and examples of various forms and functions of poetry as it has evolved through the ages. It is her hope that freedoms of speech encompass the entire globe. She would like to help people voice their feelings and attitudes about their conflicts and dilemmas through poetry. Her poetry is included in anthologies such as “Expressions of the Heart.”
Kill me not for my words.
I am a library of our culture.
Do not kill our elephants either.
It is our tusk to use our trunks to draw water for droughts.
Let me live and I promise futures with thousand breaths.
Kill me and all you have are protests.
Itai Dzamara was a bird of a different kind,
Whose beak beat against windows to shatter the glass.
Let us remember our warriors
My country, tea pot land whose water is yet to bring to boil.
Whose cows still owe us milk, and honeycombs our honey.
I was stung by a million bees when last I thirsted for sweetness.
Tell our bees I’m no enemy.
I have planted flowers for their cause.
The smoke from my fire need not anger them, as I hold nothing against their Gods.
MBONISI ZIKHALI , I am a humanitarian, carer of our grandmothers and grandfathers. I am a warrior for truth, and leader of our youth. I am the new Zimbabwe, along with my brothers and sisters
He accepts nothing
which shall not fill
his bank account.
He is the center of his
like a gaping black hole
swallowing every direction
except his own.
His energy pollutes life on earth
in an all-consuming parade
of torching land,
flooding sea coasts,
feeding trash to whales.
Beware of a man
who ushers out science
as a lie,
projecting a void of superstition.
resonating through chaos,
lift people away from puffed up madness.
JAMES COBURN , an Oklahoma poet in the United States of America. Coburn has always valued the subtext of life and seeks to reveal its undercurrents. He believes indifference is the enemy of man as it is the benefactor of ignorance, racism and xenophobia. Coburn is currently collaborating with Nairobi poet Brian Kasaine on a book of poetry. His first book of poetry “Words of Rain” was published in 2014. The book was a finalist for an Oklahoma Book Award. In 2016, ten of his poems against terrorism and to save the Sunderbans (wetlands) were published in “Onnyodhara” (The Alternative Way) Eid-special issue festival edition in association with “Anushilon” (The Culture & Literature Society) the National Literary Organization of Bangladesh. Coburn is a 2013 inductee of the Oklahoma Journalism Hall of Fame. He has been published in several anthologies. Three of his poems were published in Canada’s Tuck magazine in 2017-18. He has served as a resident poet at NonDoc.com.
TIME OF THE POET CURATOR-
MBIZO CHIRASHA is (ihraf.org) 2019 International Fellow of the International Human Rights Arts Festival New York. Essays contributor for the MONK art and soul Magazinehttp://monk.gallery/category/essays/ in United Kingdom. Co-Editor of the STREET VOICE a German Africa Poetry collection, http://www.street-voice.de/SV7/SVissue7.html in Germany. Contributor Atunis Galatika,https://atunispoetry.com/2018/11/23/mbizo-chirasha-zimbabwe/, Belgium. Editor of the WomaWords Literary Press, https://womawordsliterarypress.home.blog/. Curator of the Brave Voices Poetry Journal, miombopublishing.wordpress.com, Resident Curator of 100 Thousand Poets for Peace-Zimbabwe , 100tpc.org/Zimbabwe and the Originator of Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Movement. Founder of GirlChildCreativity Project (Amplifying girl child voices through literary Arts.)me.facebook.com/mbizochirasha. Featured in the POIESISI Slovenia International literature Press, https://www.poiesis.si/, Slovenia. International poetry site in Untied States –https://anthonywatkins.wixsite.com/btsdec2017. https://www.nation.co.ke/lifestyle/artculture/BY-THE-BOOK-Mbizo-Chirasha-/1954194-4295122-h3nhojz/index.html. African Contributor of Demer
press poetry series since 2018 , Netherlands, http://www.hannierouweler.eu/category/demer-press/.Contributor of the International Gallerie 2019 in India, https://www.gallerie.net/about-us/., Contributor of the World Poetry Almanac series, https://openlibrary.org/authors/OL816823A/WORLD_POETRY_ALMANAC . 2018Recipient of Global Literary Influencer Certificate of Merit by Directorio Mundial de Escritores through Academia Mundial de Literatura, Historia, Arte y Cultura http://directoriomundial.allimo.org/Mbizo-Chirasha/. Vice President of POETS OF THE WORLD in Africa poetasdelmundo.com. 2017 Recipient of PEN Deutschland Exiled Writer Grant.2017 Recipient of the EU-Horn of Africa Defend Human Rights Defenders Protection Fund. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mbizo_Chirash