FRANCIS OTOLE is a fast rising African Poetry Voice. I call him the Poet of. His verses raves the mind and shells the heart box like Afro-Jazz.And the rhythm is the soft rain sound of the MBIRA- a thumb piano. The burden of truth carried in his poesy is hefty , bone cracking and heavy to carry in our ever pain scalded souls. The simple -deep lyrics are classical, educative and entertaining . Here verbal dexterity is laced with with human reason and the preservative is dramatic humor. OTOLE writes about life , humanity , spirituality reverence and confessional poetry. FRANCIS OTOLE is the Guest Editor of the BRAVE VOICES POETRY JOURNAL June edition.
Mother Africa survived the trauma of clanging chains of captivity during SLAVE TRADE , shackles of colonialism and winced from beatings of hard bolt nut clenched fists of apartheid. Children and grandchildren of Mother Africa watched helplessly her sorrowful dance to the acoustics of sufferance. Still , Africa remain resilient against beauty - smashing punches from kindred’s of neo-colonialism : global village, digital revolution and consumerism .Mama Africa’s groin is ripped apart by her triplets totalitarian regimes, economic malaise and moral decadence. Today Mother Africa of pyramids , Africa of Nefertiti , Africa of Lumumba , Africa of Mandela ,Africa of Kambarage , Africa of Lithium , Africa of diamond and Africa of uranium wallow in murky waters of poverty ,chronic civil wars and deadly epidemics .Young and established poets contributing to this Brave Voices Poetry Journal 65 Edition, AFRICA IS A POETRY REPUBLIC dipped pen tongues into dimples and crevices of our Mother Africa . The poetic tongues then spat their snort of satire and the saliva of paradox onto our mental inboxes. Tonight, we are pilgrims to the poetry gods and goddesses, we trudge through shrines of metaphor, altars of irony, mountains of hyperbole and forests of rhythm until we reach to the zenith of the POETRY REPUBLIC-Africa .( Editor of Brave Voices Poetry Journal).
MOZA IS OUR COUNTRY : 2019 arrived with omens of bad luck of death, hunger and disease. Maybe Gods are angry or bad devils are at it again. The wings of Cyclone Idai, Satan’s angel washed away the soul, breath and glint of Moza. Moza twice died and was raised by our Gods of resilience. Today we are warming the heart of Moza with metaphors of hope and we also mourn the loss of those buried in unmarked cemeteries of IDAI and KENNETH. We write these messages to massage the bruised confidence of Moza and with the hope that Moza will rise again from cinders of despair. We are African griots grieving with you Comrade Moza in this moment of forced silence and we shall dance alongside at sun rise. We say to the people of Mozambique Together We Rise. To those souls and spirits wiped away by the devils wing, we say Rest in Peace and we implore the Gods to calm your anguished spirits. ALUTA CONTINUA, land of the brave. From Tete to Sofala, Maputo to Beira, Chimoio to Manica, Nampula to Gorongoza. We say MOZA is our country .ALUTA