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 miombopublishing@gmail.com, 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.

Testing us…,

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.

 

kissing****

 

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

Competition, copulation

Cooperation, conversation?

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.

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