CURATOR’s VOICE: Zimbabwe deserves better than bloody and deathly political power tussles. This journal is a clarion call to political players through poetic jabs and literary bullets to respect the citizen’s rights to life. We cannot wake up every day to lick tongues of fire or kiss the razor sharp wind of zing zinging bullets. Our cities cannot afford to be slaughter camps and our villagers becoming human abattoirs. Political players mainly ZANUPF and MDC ALLIANCE, the main political parties must preach tolerance and peace. This vitriolic and deplorable intolerant street slang of jecharists and pferorists does nothing good for Zimbabwe but harm . Supporters to the warring political organizations must be practical human and patriotic for the sake of Zimbabwe, the only country we know, the country we love, the country of our ancestors, the country of our dreams. There is no other Zimbabwe we have than the Zimbabwe we are burning and bathing in gore and death every dawn. Mr. President, you have an obligation to walk and talk peace. Zimbabweans let’s carry ourselves peacefully in the land of our birth , the land that should become a freedom Scape. The Zimbabwe We Want is of tolerance, respect of life, human rights and freedom of expression. Corruption, violence and cartels breed poverty . Polarization is a virulent vermin that is eating away the national humane. It’s time for hands down, guns down, swords down and seek the face of the man called PEACE and woman called TOLERANCE.
“Nyika yedu yeZimbabwe
VanaMai na Baba ndimomavari
Tinoda Zimbabwe neupfumi hwayo hwose
Tinodawo nyika iyo , Zimbabwe-eee
Tinodawo Rusunguko, Zimbabwe-eee
Dzimba dzamabwe , zuva rayo , hoho rasvika.” A song of defiance for a better Zimbabwe .The poems in here are bullets of peace that shoot into the skull of violence. Aluta Continua . Contact the Curator at firstname.lastname@example.org .
NANCY NDEKE is a widely published poet of international acclaim. Her writings and 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 MEXOCI CITY. SHE IS A RESIDENT CONTRIBUTOR OF THE BRAVE VOICES POETRY JOURNAL .Ndeke is an international poet with her own books and collections under her creative belt.
FOR THE BELOVED COUNTRY.
Providence has your favor led,
Rains and dust spoils of gems galore,
Heaven is kind bequeathing tons,
Of farmlands and hands to plow,
But O dear country men of global fraternity,
Land of free but wholly robbing of your fees,
Setting foundations of cement wrongs against kin,
Another you blamed and the world believed,
Who now spits on children’s tomorrow with cancerous phlegm?
Dumpster mounds of bloody ‘ lootery’ eclipsing your former genteel, Body politik of false parrots of pirates with priestly robes, Population malnutrition popping out like arthritic knuckles,
Siring sore souls drowning in debts over your greedy policies,
Masses marrying death at every meal time,
And you, the so called messiahs of this beautiful land,
Howl of your innocence on hired platforms,
Your guts pregnant with thievery and Judas juices and vices,
Anguish is calling the youths to act,
An empty stomach is a formidable charge be warned,
Look and listen to the interpretation of the raining eyes,
Hearken to redress the nation with a cloth of right,
And right is basic needs for all within,
There is hope for you O land of my friends,
But on the bed that births hunger for majority and excess for few, Seek to read history.
Mightier empires fell for less.
Go back and look truth in the eye.
There lies your salvation.
TYNOE WILSON an aspiring poet, human rights activists, page poet, flash fictionist as well as an editor of the Deem.lit.org ( Deem literature organization ). Born on the seventh of January 1998 at a local clinic in Chitungwiza of great svikiro, Tsuro Chaminuka. A Zimbabwean by birth and originates from Malawian tribe. The son of one Godwell Waison and Angeline Mandimika, being the first in a family of two, Annah Waison, little sister.
My bowl is full of escapades fertile,
Wiggly and nourished ready to leap into
The untold truths of bittersweet liberties
Her parturition a curse in times like these
For your sisters and brothers are coerced
Physically touched and suffering. Let not her
Waters to break in this epoch of coercion
For the fate I got your elder siblings
Tears apart my fragile heart alike the old
Cloth from the temple, the experience
It devours my conscience daily to
Acknowledge the reign of terror,
Flooded rivers with innocent blood
Flowing the depths of Hunyani stream
Spoils of the war bring misfortunes forth
Comrades backstabbing each for the gains
Till this impetuous signs end, Then I be
Glad to father all of you, in a tranquil
Land so harmonious and fright free.
ARABAMBI OBALOLUWA JOSEPH is a 26 year old Nigerian poet and a student at Federal University of Technology
NO TO VIOLENCE
Darkness! A part of nature
But, what’s to a land that know no sun?
Violence is a facet in life
But, what is to a life of no peace?
A face that know no smile
Adds wrinkles to tribe mark
Such is a home that harbors violence
All it does is lend a handful hand to sorrow
Violence is like harmattan fire
It has never been a option to change
If the heads are thought derailed
Ask the followers if they’ve got heads
When the fathers lacks sense of duty
Ask their wards to assume grey
Our power to choose makes us a being
But, choosing wrong makes us a thing
Say a strong no to violence
For it’s a cancer to the brain.
PROSPER KAVUKINA is Zimbabwean Poet , Philosopher , Writer and Linguist
Yenyu Hondo makarwira Chimoio
Yedu Hondo irikutibaya mumwoyo
Venyu vakapararira paNyadzonya
Isu vedu hamuna kana umwe wamakadzora
Imi makatiza muchienda Moza
Isu nhasi takutizirawo Joza
Iko kudzvinyirirwa kwamaiitwa
Nhasi ndomadzvinyiriro amavakutiita
Zvironda zviye zvange zvaoma pamuviri yenyu
Nhasi mozvivhura pamuviri yedu
Majere mamwechetewo amakagara
Ndiwozve nhasi omotigadza
Ko nhamo zvataiti yapera wani
Imi kwanyanu kwava kuiparura
Idzo mbwa dziya dzakaruma sekuru nambuya
Modzirega futi dzichiruma venyu vazukuru
Paye taibatsirana tichiti chimurenga
Asi nhasi motipandukira kuita chibhebhenenga
Kana tsamwa dziridzo nziyo dzevaroyi
Kubva vazhinji tichapera kuroya….
DR. ZACHAROULA GAITANAKI was born in Athens on November 30th, 1966. Now, she is a small farmer and lives with her family in Arcadia. She writes poems, articles, short stories, essays, novels and review of book. She is also a translator of books of poetry. She is a life member of the “World Academy of Arts and Culture” / “World Congress of Poets” (which awarded her the title of the Honorary Doctor of Literature), of the IWA, the “WPS”, the “Poetas del Mundo” and the “Asociacion Mundial de Escritores. She has published twelve books.
There are moments,
that Poets owe to keep silence:
When birds sing,
rivers flow their water quietly,
sun shines and warms everywhere
and people live in harmony.
And there are times
that Poets own to cry out:
When the sky is getting dark
from smoke of rockets’ and fires’,
sea is darkening from oil
and sea-gulls are dying from pollution.
When sun isn’t warming all the people
and children are unhappy.
When ear spreads panic,
fear and death,
leave behind ruins,
cripples and shuttered devastated dreams.
Then, Poets owe to write.
Making pen a weapon,
a message and a hope.
Till they come again these moments
that Poets owe to keep silence.
Adriatik Jaçe was born on 21.05.1971 in Përmet. After graduating from high school, he continued his studies in Tirana University. The passion for literature started when he was very young, passion which it grow throw years, as well as numerous reading, was transformed into poetry and creative spirit.
The diversity of life, Life metaphysics and deep sensation experience, those are the basis of this poetic creativity, which comes through symbolism and metaphor, that is used on creative style and creative art for the moment.
Death took her on cold feathers
And into darkness, its run
Somewhere with fast steps.
Somewhere like a leaf in the wind ..
Grabbed her, even she won’t
She was young, like a bud
Instead, an old man is living
Since in fatal crush,involved
Did not take one, but there were two lives
A life inside her, was growing
Everything, around make black
Her mother’s life destroy..
death could bring her back.
Even though mother’s call to God ..
Tearing with black and salty tears
Holding her tightly in her arms.
Dolorous,with no heart, no soul
Her soul is deeply poisoned
Wanted so bad, to have her back.
But the Lord take them, to Eden.
And the mother, with great pain,
Beat in chaos without side …
Cursed that black day …
Rip-offs all calendars …
NGAN EMMANUEL BEYIA Cameroonian born is poet, educationist, and an advocate of socio-political change. His writings address various issues and every reader is likely to find one that suits their interest. His works have been published in magazines and anthologies the world over. He has also received numerous awards of recognition
He studied in THE UNIVERSITY OF YAOUNDE 1, Cameroon, where he obtained BA in French and English. He then enrolled into Higher Teachers Training College, graduated with a bilingual diploma. Upon graduation has been teaching in local High schools in English speaking Cameroon
IS THIS NOT OUR LAND?
Fire dancing twirling in the heat
Throes of sociopolitical mayhem persists
Embers of hatred fanned in medias in an aura of
Knife and hot pepper sparked by dissenting voices
Adolescents unable to bite the bullet go out of way
Is this not our land ? Am l dreaming?
All l see is blood spilled in milk, fields of bullets
Dark fog of war lingering over the land
military muscle in drones and sensors
intelligence in unrestrained clamps displayed
All l hear are promises of bombshells and smoking guns
Hyenas hitting the walls and tables,Corruption, poverty
and injustices hovering like grey clouds over families
spilling itchy raindrops on every good thing
Icy violence numbing victims to the marrow
Swift as the eagle and cruel as the talons
Infrastructure set afire like volcano eruption
I see creativity and innovative instincts gnawed by greed
This no strangers land, it’s all ours, together
we’ll build Zimbabwe in love, unity tolerance and peace
SMEETHA BHOUMIK (Solidarity voices) is an artist, a poet, and she curates poetry at WE, as Founder of Women Empowered-India (WE). She is Chief Editor – ‘Equiverse Space – A Sound Home in Words’
In a chamber
of cherished moments
where dew nestles
in golden swathes
I remember sitting on a dew-drop
tasting the sky
feeling the ocean
on my salty cheeks
so close and warm !
Inner and outer rings
that beguile, but you’ve
been warned – the epics hold
codes, everything just the same
across millenia, and true to form!
The intent, the violence beneath
braided twines, you smile, in sadness,
awareness; because the dew makes it
Inside chambers of cherished
moments, in hushed monotones
houses of lac, elders who feign,
& elaborate overtures to dishonour
disrobe a space of its dignity
and honour, even maim.
Fear. Fear is the key. In the absence of fear
or envy, it would be infinite swathes
of belonging, of sharing, of creating
beauty and bounty in numerous ways
Where is the lack in this
Vast unending universe, its enchanted space?
MICHAEL MWANGI MACHARIAis a poet based in Kenya. He is interested in the arts in various forms including photography, fine art ,music and dance. He was anthologized in Echoes Across the Valley (2000) and has contributed articles in local newspapers. He also enjoys identifying and promoting youthful talent
ln the whispering wind
Floating the midnight air
The cheers,roars and jeers
Elation of charged watchers;
Messages from sleepless ones
Speaking of a yearning
Away from the desolation
And nagging restlessness
The quest for tenderness
An idyllic unbroken bliss…
NGOZI OLIVIA OSUOHA is a Nigerian poet/writer/¬thinker, a graduate of Estate Management with experience in Banking and Broadcasting. She has published over one hundred and fifty poems in over thirteen countries and featured in over twenty international anthologies.
She has published three poetry books and coauthored one, they are THE TRANSFORMATION TRAIN, LETTER TO MY UNBORN, SENSATION and TROPICAL ESCAPE respectively. She writes hymns, psalms and has numerous words on the marble. All her books are record breakers.
THE JUNGLE HAS MATURED
Hawks, hawking hawkers
Hawkers, hawking hawks
Hovering hawks, hovering hawkers
Hawking themselves for each other
The jungle has matured.
Vultures, descending and demanding
Dismembering, dedicating and defacing
Decaying, demonizing and dehumanizing,
The jungle has matured.
Snakes, vomiting venom
Voluminous venom, venomous volumes
Volunteers to be poisoned,
Venting violence on roofs without proofs
Conniving, concocting, colluding, conspiring,
The matured jungle is here.
Orange change, pink link
Brown gown, white kite
Purple marble, yellow shadow
Green screen, blue glue
Rainbow words in barren promises
Unkind kind, greedy breed,
The jungle has matured.
Puffing adders pouncing on lands
Scorpions stinging champions
Aliens godding natives, capturing warriors
Carnivorous angels, holy demons
The jungle is indeed matured.
Fierce spirit, bloody eyes
Filthy hands, dirty legs
Dubious games, cursed plans
Bribed gods, corrupt land
Enslaved ancestors, mortgaged unborn
Shining shrines to outshine Sunshine’s
Has the jungle not matured?
Bombs, mines, grenades and bullets
Slit throats and choking gullets
Accomplices and cohorts
Cankerworms and cancers
Which other jungle hasn’t matured?
Footsteps of robbers, ripping and striping
Footmarks of assassins, paths of death
Footprints of killers, traces of murder
Fountains of skull, pool of blood
See the matured jungle.
Ghosts, graving souls
Shackles, shattering solutions
What a matured jungle!
Fanatics facilitating frustrations
Falsehood and fallacies
Frames, flaring fame
Pollutants and nuisances
A matured jungle it is.
Spiritual warfare, physical tussle
Mental slavery, political enslavement
Actors and captors, social banditry
Moral decadence, world degradation
The jungle is matured here!
is a literary critic, blogger and writer who teaches literary studies at the University of Zimbabwe. He is currently writing his first novel titled MAGAMBA HOSTELS. It is some kind of auto-fiction which, as he claims, is meant to bridge the gap between a lie and truth.
A DYING CITY
she has things crawling inside her
inside the morsels of reason that she has left
they crawl around her
sickly things with tired grins
her parted thighs are the mouth of the stream
the stream that carries her future foetuses
to the puddle of putrefaction that lies downstream
where her former glitz and glamour sit at the bottom
like ancient artefacts of a forgotten civilisation
around her spires of former glory
point skeletal fingers at a vacant sky
while the eyes of the head from which the spires protrude
stare at the hollowness of the wasteland
on which she forlornly sits.
silence stalks the wasteland
with double-edged machetes
to slice through the heads of sound
that sprout above the garbage of the wasteland
from the hovels of the past and the future
the dying city is this emaciated body
this unclothed landscape
of the women
of the men
of a generation that has found itself
in an apocalyptic wasteland
of dead dreams and visions.
VICTOR WESONGA is of Kenyan nationality. He stays in Kenya. A Literature enthusiasts with roots immersed in Engineering. In the republic of letters, I read to internalize and learn .My submission comes from his unpublished anthology, MILITARISTIC STAIRWAY.
Oh politics, a tree with long stretched limbs
That struts to support prickly poisoned thorny twigs,
Holding blooming leaves and budding flowers, but
Feared by tendrils’ soft phloem and xylem, dart
With bark of stem, a shining lustre of a people
Raised above the intricate network of fibrous that
Sips ground’s moist, soil’s nutrients n economy’s minerals
Through roots irrigated by oozing blood,
Tears filling can, tears of feeling and emotions,
Tears that fuel fires of blooming leaves
Whose blood adorns red squares and streets,
For the budding flowers, even old,
Thriving on rifles that coughs, voices to silence, face
Of lives dispatched to early eternal phase.
Oh, recluse poise of Africa, what Psalm palms you plight?
Span of land that nature gives as north walks to south,
With soil as vast as East runs to West, starved of blight,
But why the political recluse in Harare? Whose mouth
And soil, hides ideas of brave men, fast of the
Ilk of Mujuru, Muzenda and Morgan, all rich
With women that wanders wide world at ease
Touching with touches of life that munches mere peace,
And brave alike, with zeal that justice preach
In face of tar turned flesh, down razing nation
Amidst red glown head torches that escort steel fists of brutes,
Oh! old ladies, descendants of faithful Sarah,
Holding to hoist high the tag to Abigail’s obedience
In protection of Africa’s hue in lieu of turmoil,
That forms nourishments that be of
Foyers of tribe that sites Africa’s beauty in essence
Of weaning bad governance with presence
Of humanity without overt fake wake that mess!
Sharp is thy anger, oh thy whose language is brute violence,
How doth such language prefer thou?
One picked by those sans reason, full of insolence,
Bereft of diplomacy, even clout,
sans ability and means to commune, but
rapture with mystic heads full of dark cloud,
That abuse bhang, to shake astrocytes, for atrocities
With abused khat still in swollen cheeks,
And heavy in eyes schist of somnolence,
To lower humanity and raise superfluities.
Tarry and see, nurture this enclave few pacifists,
Let life and peace blossoms like floras of Savanna,
And stroll across the winding roads,
Unclench to free your steel fist,
Droop your hands, ease ire, drop iron rods,
All are your neighbours, at heart kindness list,
Whiten to clear soft your blood infested
Cool your adrenaline, later be invested,
To your boiling blood, jacket its tubes with ice
Condense it’s vapour, convert it to wisdom
And with it savour to enjoy; the freedom
Of the flows of Victoria Falls
The life in the wild, striped in Zebras, in
Giraffes whose necks hold high
Heads,with mouth’s atop Heavenly Inn,
Enjoy powerful puffs off lion’s mouth,
Savour seldom recluse poise of natural kinds,
Of the chirping egrets, on Mt. Nyangani’s south
In the swishing lilting coasting winds
In which leaves play kissing, in dances of specific
Lyrics of rare rhumba, rare psalms, genre of Afric
Dressed in most pacific, dwells of Shona or Ndebele,
Luba or Mongo, Tutsi or Hutu,
Luhya or Kikuyu, oh, psalms that sums up Ubuntu!
PHILANI AMADEUS NYONI is a Zimbabwean Filmmaker , Writer ,Poet and Critic
MY MUSE AND MY PRESIDENT
My muse is a rebel who can cock a gun,
My president is a barman serving cock-and-run.
Alliteration of staccato, bodies drop she loves it,
While the barman’s expertise makes one move feet.
She loves the deadly ejaculation; bang bang!
He conveniently took care of the last bird that sang…
She is an assassin who kills impotent bloody thirsts’ with a silver bullet.
Barman grins, ‘Wanna play roulette?’
Her soft touch on hard pipe is beyond surreal,
While his liquor is hard enough to kill.
Her hands are adroit with the keeper of life and death,
While his punch knocks like nothing on earth.
Slide back slide forward, that is a cock,
Today he is serving it on the rocks, no Coke.
Slide back slide forward, locked and loaded ready to shoot,
He takes sour grapes ferments them in cells into brutal fruit.
She aims the gun at herself, quick blow and drops splat,
He reads this, cocks, I run… not fast enough, my head blows apart…
JUSTICE MASANGANO is Malawian Writer ,Poet and Thought Leader
ZIMBABWE WE LOVE
fill to the brim the pit of self-inflicted destruction
break loose from your strife and sorrow with hearkened ending
bandage the unhealing wounds of unrest gushing with myriad rivulets of rotten blood
cast the iniquity of the despised and starving masses into a dark dungeon of ridicule
pluck on the dead currents of your dark stars to illuminate and give hope to the heartbroken
utilize the looming dawn with unstifled vigor to stop the torment of the agonized
brave the tempest and adjust your sails to whispering heights of sound visions and winged knowledge
inflate the deflated tires of your titanic chariots and climb the tallest hills again, in quest of your tampered glory and visibility to the world eye
the Zimbabwe we love
blow zillion trumpets through valleys and rivers and mountains, calling the scattered hiding in the caves to return and build the fallen walls
the Zimbabwe we love
abolish your trembling and let the binding sweet counsel of charmers sing a new song of joy, in unison and triumph, buried past and reunion,
paying a deaf ear to sugarcoated lies
we have infants to feed and raise
UCHE AKUNEBU is a teacher of journalism at the international institute of journalism Abuja and Open University. Immediate vice chairman of association of Nigerian authors, Abuja chapter. A public scholar, poet and prolific author.
Not a failure
Sitting on the saddle
Frolicking with your future
And asking for another mandate
To make more mincemeat
Of what is remaining
Make a detour as he draws near
To drum a dry message
And bring to the bin of history
An excruciating experience
Nobody wishes to exhume
From the memory.
IMPRINT OF IMPUNITY
At the staircase
Leading to Lugards house
As Luciferans lord over
Destroying due process
Disobeying court orders
Disfiguring our diversity
Singing song against sleaze
While allowing its own
Gyrate like goats
In s yam barn.
GENE BERRY is a Poet , Writer and Literary Arts Consultant from Northern Ireland
Emotions without accents
pull me across this bridge
into a womb of understanding
where fairness swims in that
great lake called womanhood.
Let me use the stroke of
the genitally mutilated
mourning Syrian mothers
mud hut starving shoeless
love hungry ladies
the forced laboured
the victimised and raw.
From a boat called Maternal
my crew of podium tenants
and phenomenally successful
we will trawl to life the punished
hand back to Huda her father
conveyors of mothers
daughters and sisters.
We will haul in
dead little students
unfilled mothers’ dreams
an emotional morgue.
We will bring no gifts
of floral dresses
We will listen.
For those shadows
built with healing
we will attach to every
mother and daughter,
a shadow to
follow them into
histories of darkness.
From our deck we will spray
laws over Sudan
permission over Yemen
choice over Chad
voices over Afghanistan
rights over Pakistan
freedom over Palestine
sanity over Nepal
safety over girls from India
clinics over Africa
cures over Congo
votes over Saudi Arabia
education over the world.
We will jettison
the sexually abusive
child bride husbands
and tormenting qualms.
What matters the bolts man repairs,
the seeds he tractors and harvests?
What matters are the lives he steals,
the hatred he sows in children’s hearts.
CHRISPAH MUNYORO is currently a graduate of Applied Art and Design, Graphics and Website Programming. at Kwekwe Polytechnic College in Zimbabwe . Munyoro is a talented writer, journalist and a dedicated Design Artist
Clouded looks brewing cyclone
Smiles transformed into sneers
Voices booming with a clap of lightning
Shriveling, the beauteous lassie jumpy as a mouse
Physiologically tattered while still sprightly
Affection turned into an emotional wrecked battlefield
Bricks tearing laces into tatters
Voices unlocking stuffed shattered dreams and brains
Is this affectionate, so scorching, shocking and soul breaking?
Today you kiss me tenderly
Whispering how you always miss me
You need me
You hate me
You caress me
You harass me
Verbally abusive, designing a ring of blows
Hailstones of rage leaving chaos
I clearly fail to perceive your chameleon DNA
Do you have any remorse you
CHRISPAH MUNYORO CHRISPAH MUNYORO is currently a graduate of Applied Art and Design, Graphics and Website Programming. at Kwekwe Polytechnic College in Zimbabwe . Munyoro is a talented writer, journalist and a dedicated Design Artist.
THE JOURNAL CURATOR
MBIZO CHIRASHA is certified as a Global Literary Influencer by Directorio Mundial de Escritores through Academia Mundial de Literatura, Historia, Arte y Cultura. Recipient of PEN Deutschland Exiled Writer Grant (2017) Literary Arts Projects Curator, Writer in Residence, Blogs Publisher, Arts for Human Rights/Peace Activism Catalyst, Social Media Publicist and Internationally Anthologized Writer, 2017 African Partner of the International Human Rights Arts Festival Exiled in Africa Program in New York.2017 Grantee of the EU- Horn of Africa Defend Human Rights Defenders Protection Fund. Resident Curator of 100 Thousand Poets for Peace-Zimbabwe, Originator of Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Movement. African Contributor to the Table of Words Demer Press International Poetry anthology edited by Hannie Rouweler in Netherlands. Solidarity Member of Global Alliance for Politics and Arts. African Participant to the 2014-2020 World Poetry Almanac Anthologies series in Mongolia edited by Hadaa Sendoo. Co-Editor of German Africa Bilingual Collection with German International Translator Andreas Weiland in 2016 (http://www.street-voice.de/SV7/SVissue7.html).2003 Zimbabwean Young literary Delegate to the Goteborg International Book Fair Sweden ( presented at Nordic Africa institute, Swedish Writers union , SIDA Diplomatic luncheon , Radio Dialogue , Swedish International library Association , Sweden National Education Summit).2009 Poet in residence of ICACD ,international Conference of Africa Culture and Development courtesy of African Culture Development Institute .Founder of the GIRLCHILDCREATIVITY PROJECT. Curator of MIOMBOPUBLISHING, miombopublishing.wordpress.com and PERSONALITIES OF INSPIRATION,personalitiesofinspiration.wordpress.com., http://www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mbizo_Chirasha
BRAVE VOICES POETRY JOURNAL- A weekly platform of poetry for resistance, literary freedom of expression and protest Poetry in pursuit for a peaceful, just, non-dictatorial and nonviolent environment with a special focus on Zimbabwe , Africa and other nations around the globe through poetry , Flash fiction ,arts , brave voices and literary activism. Contact the Curator/EDITOR of the Brave Voices Poetry Journal MBIZO CHIRASHA at email@example.com , post on MIOMBOPUBLISHING Facebook Group or Inbox the Curator on Facebook Messenger