Editorial Chat– Tendai.R.Mwanaka is becoming a granddad of writing ,poetry ,literary arts activism in Zimbabwe and beyond.His writings rattles hearts of many and speak to every reader.He is widely published. He is a global creme- dela -creme of African Creative Writing and an advocate of literary arts .His writings are both metaphoric , satiric ,allegoric,juxtaposed and paradoxical.He is a well traveled poet and writer endowed with character, strength and thoroughness.please send your comments to firstname.lastname@example.org, follow the site, like it and follow miombopublishing on Facebook.
I CANNOT SEE YOU
What adventures have we experienced
from animal furs to human garments?
What hardships of our youths
are the long steps of our ladder?
We would make another long leap, but we need water rings
because this room would reject us.
I mean here…, this time.
this time is always testing us.
Too much has happened, too much…I said too much has happened to us and there is no honest reality anymore. And if you don’t trust me, then I must pity you for trust is my first reality.
It is the designs of my religion, wheels and wheels upon wheels, rolling…
Rolling like an insane wheel.
Even these will go…,
You are looking for another frontier? We could go there and never return, really! We will grow, we will evolve. Are there any strange animals where you are going?
Find it in your palms, this planet for you are holding it…, find it!
You anger knows it where your reason does not.
Cling to it!
Wallow in it!
How does a child know it and what would a child choose? Your youth still demands that you be given your moment.
But if one of us dies…It is only the required event
for one direction is as good as another.
We cannot go back…
The sun comes up; Sand is soft beneath our feet and this is what we drink. The sand is our enemy. The longer we endure it the more vulnerable we are.
I love you by right of loneliness and I read you by your emotions.
This is the worth of your measure-
The motivation for the leap is lost in this revelation.
My love does not discard, accumulate, stimulate, delude…My love is without centre, self… My love has no desires of results, goals, perfections, visions… My love accepts your nakedness.
You say you are not arguing, but that I permit you to know nothing else.
This derives from our ancestors.
For we can create nothing, but ourselves.
We can see our tracks on the sands, but our tracks do not have flesh. You will go…, but may never return and I cannot follow you.
Because I cannot see you.
CATHEDRAL OF DETOURS
Fighting on the shores of; the soul, memories, Beingness
Trying to escape angular poverty; empty books, brooks, shelves, she lives in
In subordination levels, hammering into the soul, such soul sinking oppression
The poet in her, she stinks to the moon and back
Floating her dreams in the vast deep
At her own beck and call
Poetry being her only religion, playing a dirge, the dirge a sacrament
More than wine changed into water or water into wine
Or the fish swallows Jonah, Jonah swallows the fish
It’s a jungle of minds, her insides
Walking dead on streets, empty streets too real for dreaming
Her eyes can see nothing anymore, only the wind
Unhurricaned wind, wild
The “too” soon of tearing, the wind parting the drapes of her mind
The wind, air’s chthonic suction, plenary in volume, in voice
Black, tickling leaves, muslin
She is a life painted by chaos
Her future is painted in a lead color
Painting asking for a second, seconding, opinion
Screaming in the storm
Like lost beauty, the beauty she had, screaming
Bottles and pills, screaming for freedom from her
Her brain matter is suffocating the space within the walls
In the prisons of her mind
Heartache flows inside her, beaten thick with despair
So sweet the despair, so good like stolen food would taste
Drowned in the depths of a cesspool
That she has created, liturgical lock nobody will unlock for her
This ocean of despair is all too consuming
It’s kind of a zone
Blood zone, life zone, knowledge zone, grinding zone
Danger zone, separate zones, gaps sewed together
With strings zones
Life’s pendulum swinging between the two zones
Life and death’s zones
Death, to be stoned, it’s a charming death for her
Let the poet in her be stoned, she tells them, in her acidic liturgy
The needle is always too closer to my eyes
And my mind is frozen, soaked in fearful, tearful memories
I am a mind-damaged casualty
Recollections only, of feelings
As I journey into the blended earth.
Constructing a meeting with her
She weaves an appearance
Allowing the impossibility to enter
South winds of desire rising
Ready to snuggle in cotton candy dreams
She kisses you: brown lips
Dark honey, the sweet lips
Dripped in spit like a newborn thing
Her tongue pushing in, bequeathing
Assaulting each other with love
Your heart is caught on her lips
Your cold, ideal slowly melting
Under her hot particulars
While the moon-red, soft
Inevitable, sizzles around you
It is a full moon rolling down
The stairs, like a heavenly
Body, gliding, crashing onto
The earth, the light, the weight
Of its heat pressing layers
Of your flesh down.
A deeply planted splendour
Burns beneath your breast
You are a teenager bursting
Into his surprising body,
Headlong and you, alive to the light
Telling you of steps to be taken
When the kissing consumes you
You face each other
With vengeance, ripped
Each other’s clothes, rolled
Around in the dirty
And make love like animals
So she is born, and you watch
Born of men, born in need
In lust that is in love
You are her world, she is yours
You have a partner for anything
THE WOMAN IN ME
On a sunny lovely May-morning.
I found a rose red brightly blooming.
Besides the road, under a shady Baobab tree.
Oval features implanted so craftily!
Upon such a lovely shape and face.
Soft red-lips, spring of such a voice!
Doubtlessly sweet, fresh and promising.
I will suckle her lips like a bee on honeysuckle.
“Oh, you are so sweet like honey!”
Can I posses you, can I be possessed?
Fix you, fire you, cradle you, case you.
Come on, come nearer, I will reach you.
Breathe the same air that I am breathing.
I will circle you in my arms like ivy on a tree.
My lips on your lips, your heart on my heart!
Sating this awesome yearning, this thirst too!
Think of her as the Woman in me.
Let me mould my Eve, Sculpture her for you.
Let her candid doleful eyes seek yours,
And her sweet-song voice calls for you.
Let her footsteps as she comes and goes
Be like bird-markings appearing faintly-still,
After a full day’s disturbances and winds.
And she will dwell in you like the Woman in me.
I find in her eyes, an innocent heart-truthful.
No pencil can sketch her picture truthfully.
Neither the poet, not a song can sing a true song.
No words, not even thoughts can express her so.
She touches sympathies that are too deeper for words,
Too deeper for my thoughts and feelings.
And to my visions, dreams, hopes and heart,
She bestows life, strength, beauty and light.
She is as fresh as the sun awakening.
She makes us aware of our hearts.
That we have them, they are now timbering.
Awakened to the love they see lusting.
Welcoming this joyousness into our lives.
She fills a void in our spiritual being.
We are ourselves, we are now over-brimming-
In happiness, life and laughter.
She is nurse to wounds still painful,
A prescription the doctor ordered for.
She is stem to sprouting green leaves.
Against the suns, winds, colds, and rains-
She nourishes and shoulders, my heart tenderly!
And lets her love like the sunset surround me
Stirs feelings no other woman has ever.
Deeper sources no other woman ever sounded,
O, the sensations, I can sigh over them.
Pity me, despise me, laugh at me!
I will confess it with outmost humility.
I love her, O, how I love her!
I will be her wall against the suns, winds, colds, rains
Her faithful shield against all wrongs, trusting her!
I will guide her through life’s shoals, rocks and thorns.
Living and loving, O, being loved too!
Mwanaka Tendai Rinos: Published books include among others, Zimbabwe: The Urgency of Now (creative nonfiction), Finding a Way Home (stories novel), Revolution (poems), Democracy, Good Governance, and Development in Africa (scholarly essays, co-editor) Best New African Poets 2015 Anthology (co editor, poetry), Zimbolicious poetry (Zimbabwean poets anthology, co editor), Pearls of awareness (poetry collection), Playing to love’s gallery (poetry collection). Upcoming books include among others, Experimental Writing: Africa Vs Latin America, Volume 1 (co-editor), Best New African Poets 2016 Anthology (co-editor, poetry). He is also a published and exhibited visual artist (photography, painting, drawing, installation, collage, video.), represented by ARNA gallery, Sweden. A sound/musical artist using mostly tradition instrumentations like the mbira. A mentor, translator, scholar, theorist, reviewer, editor, critic… Work has been published in over 400 journals in over 27 countries, translated into French, Germany and Spanish.