AFRICAN WRITER: For I wrote so long a letter to Mayombe and Anowa.That will marry when I want. For the beautiful ones are not yet born.
While we wait for the rain, In the coming of the dry season. Behind the anthills of savannah. Milking the cows of Shambati,gathering good bits of wood and the fortunes of Wangarini.In that forests of a thousand demons. A sleep walking land, for things had fallen apart. We faced the wrath of the ancestors
, bones and shadows. For it was not any easy walk to freedom
With farai girls, Nehanda and the son of the soil. In that long journey of popynongena.We met Matigari,And the tycoon from Peter Maritz burg. The poor Christ of Bomba.We saw the devil dangling on the
cross and his blooming petals of blood. We had the arrows of God
We wanted to kill the mangy dog.In the river between, was this a war of freedom? Indaba my children. We sang the song of la-wino and Ocol.Walking down Second Avenue.Fighting to decolonize the minds of the people,
We became the house of hunger. In the country of our own
The butterfly was burning. In the burning summer season,
We never ate the grain of wheat. For we harvested thorns
And nervous conditions. Cry my beloved country. Country of my skull. For Nehanda still snore. Even after the struggle of Zimbabwe.

• This Journal instalment is a tribute to African writers. It is also paying a befitting tribute the accomplished Zimbabwean Writer Dr. Charles Muzuva Mungoshi and also celebrating Celebrated Zimbabwean Literary Icon Tsitsi Dangaregbwas gig at the Curator of Berlin Book Festival in 2019* ALUTA CONTINUA. Follow our Brave Voices Poetry Journal at , Contact the Curator at•


Mbizo Chirasha. Miombo Publishing Header Image. a publishing platform for young and EXPERIENCED fiction writers

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 In the republic of letters, I read to internalize and learn .My submission comes from his unpublished anthology, MILITARISTIC STAIRWAY.

victor wesonga

Oh, Okoth! You told me as a neophyte,
Poems are best words in best order as graphite,
I try this, as a starting cough with stock
Of my nakedness out, sure and ready for a father’s stroke,
Teach me more;
Teach me logics my mind finds me unable to stoke,
Teach me as a great you are, with calm eyes of science,
That detests words at face value, but depth!
Your zest is free, your zeal, of a honcho’s conscience,
Scrapped are your hide pads, scathed sowed by trudge
To the world of know, daily and often without grudge,
Oh, you of ilk of griots, but a sage of our society,
Known globally and locally for eyes that art spits,
Citizen of Glo-cal, Global and local is your province to keep!

Teach me some more, that sages, even savants,
Put their hands in the ‘battoxs’ of an elephant,
And still win their tempers,
Teach me that braves are as well cowards,
Rich are also poor and equally need medication,
Perhaps through laughing and crying and meditation,
Which are all estimates that bind mortal emotions.
Teach my eyes to raise with the sun every morn’
And sparkle with the silver stained sky distant stars,
And my spirit my character to couch not to mourn,
But plead with the sun, oh so often to rise and shine,
On the greenery paths my feet make to trek and strike.
Teach me of congiary, how to give more and give for free and take less, And stay awake long to what I deem with gem regard case,
And to discern, that heart cries at stark mirth and pain,
Teach me tricks of survival at Batian and Nelion peaks,
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.

uche naija


Master story teller
In that country you wrote about
Telling us what the trouble was
Your thesis is still tenable
As the jokers are still calling the shot
Making many miss your counsel
Things still falling apart.
Purveyor of proverbs
When you see Joshua Nkomo
Refusing to smile in your new abode
Bear with him the inimitable one
As revolutionary turncoats
Have taken over the landscape
Making mockery of his beloved land
Things still falling apart.
Conscience of the nation
When you see Madiba murmuring
Understand his situation
As those he left the country to run
Are running it underground
To utter disbelief of those watching
Things still falling apart.

*In honour of Chinua Achebe.
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 .ND eke is an international poet with her own books and collections under her creative belt.

nancy ndeke
Some souls touch words and immortalize them,
Engraving them on the canvas of the universe and the thoughts of men, Giving the globe a taste of the stories of history as so richly “Things Fall Apart” has done, Some souls don’t die for beyond their silence their speech echoes, Characters and landscapes calling attention to old and new detail, From lived and observed chapters of a marauding empire come to stay, Some souls are oceans deep and expansive,
Taking in for storage the wounds and scars incurred in measured sips, Upon lands that see all visitors as friends, as so richly “Things Fall Apart” continues to do, Some souls are the mystics and hermits pregnant with prologues and epilogues, Seeing the future being replanted with a slave tongue and dress, Watching with a sad eye as birthrights are uprooted by a red nosed brother, Turning coats of men who sold their beliefs to merchants of lands and gems, Years have piled on and so has decades as so richly “Things Fall A part” continues to do, Integrity has tested the words and given them a scepter,
Neither color, creed nor language can lay denial of these fact at all, Seeing the discord long sown continues its assault spree as so richly ‘Things Fall Apart” has continued to say, To this, honor, age and true test of time Achebe lives on the thoughts of all men, Regardless of culture, State or school of thoughts of all,
And readers, writers and critiques continue to this son salute.
ARABAMBI OBALOLUWA is a 26 year old Nigerian poet and a student at Federal University of Technology

arabambi joseph a

There is a source that gives water

It moisturizes the dryness of time

There is a source that gives food

It gives strength to the weak of mind

While, there is another source

All it does is inspire the soul

The three embedded in one

A pasture of words so green

Not at any time know other

A known soul with hat of words

Clothed with inky influence

A mouth of audible voice

A light hand with illuminating ink

A prolific mind that touches souls

Though dump but forever speaks

Words aren’t enough to identify his personality


SEHLOHO PIET RAMPAI is published Author of two Anthologies namely Mabinabine and My Words and I have won several writing awards.
He writes without any remorse
As his thoughts are parallel to those of Biko
He vibrates life into words
Since he carries wisdom on the shoulders of his words
He writes of words that blast through heaven’s door and serve themselves with Manna a lehodimo
He turns guns into words and changes life
He is a writer who can charm words off their feet
He is a writer and Hunter of humanity.
As he feed the masses insight with his writing
As he changes so much pain and strife
Like cupid he brings about love
The degree at which he writes
He invented new new testament for us new generation
Since flowing in his bloodstream is a nations dream
As he speaks of fraternity, equality and liberty…


REUBEN WILLIAM is performances poet and literary artist who read at Midlands State University for English and Communication. I was born in 1991 March 26 and enjoy blue mooning.



Is a prickly mupangara banging the labia minora;
The dangling intellectual womb, a tomb of Tutankhamen embalmed in the Vaseline
Of African poplitics. Am the Niagra Falls of the stream of consciousness; a placebo
in a gazebo of the doppelganger; the gangrene eating the third leg of the hegemony?

Am a horror to myself and terror to my face;
In my case am the witch hunt of Vhengere. The uranium of my blotted past
Scarecrows with six rows of pompons. Burnt Oxford popcorns; the wriggling worms in their oatmeal.
This Columbus syphilis of Illinois, a chandelier of trampled lilies, lets walk down Piccadilly amigos.
Picking my nose, gross as it is, this cheese needs no icing.

Beautiful ogres of cupid darting my satori like
Quivers of beavers, a Nile giving piles with my psyche for the chewing of papyrus paper;
These curtain drapes will tail and curl into the next cosmology, a spiraling
Medusa spell freezing their logic with Rapunzel’s hair lock.
Snow White is the Black Sunlight of my Judas kiss to the bureaucrats.

A feline instint catwalking their open legs parliament
Sent from the above
This heat, burning my subcutaneous; the anus of Mlomo weSizwe;
Sizwe Banzi is dead domrades.
Who is your caddy, Daddy?


MICHAEL C. IKEGWU, is a graduate of Ebonyi State University Abakaliki, Nigeria. He is a young and passionate writer who aims in reaching out to the world through writing. He’s about making his debut publishing. His work of poetry was shortlisted and published in 2018 Shishir and Water Anthology Publication, India. He also came 3rd in poetry during the 2018 ANA-AEFUNAI International Conference and Creative Writing/ Workshop. His short story is published on


African literature won’t be complete without this name, ACHEBE.
He is a giant stride, a fictionist and a poet; literate tongue with a literate pen,
The way he coined the African story with African English baffles non Africans,
He made an impact Africans and the world at large will forever remember,
Achebe is a man of valor and vigor; he is my muse.

The pen is afraid of what he can do, because he gives a story life,
He wrote things fall apart and things really fell apart,
The work of things fall apart makes one smile, cry and makes the mind wander in that era; the era of our fathers,
Did you know it is no longer at ease? The man of the people foresaw it.
Achebe is a demigod, a god of literature death can never remove from history; he is my muse,

Achebe told me it is by hard work and not lucks; I had to struggle for success,
When I remember this great figure, I pick up my pen of change; more writers like him can do the impossible.
African history must survive because Achebe thought me to pen them down,
He is indeed a man of the people; my muse, mouth piece of African literature,
I must domesticate English to suit my African story because Achebe thought me,
LULAMA JALI is a budding writer from East London, South Africa. Her first poetry collection is in the making and very soon , she will be a published poet .



I was a small fry when I heard about your name in this game

Pardon me if what I’m going to say is lame

But I’m going to say it anyway

For there’s no other way

You are the bulldozers of African literature

You paved a way for the African writers

You are the archive for young budding authors

You are the inspiration to the uninspired

You are the bridge for the those who want cross this great river

A step ladder for success starved Africans

You are the leaders to the misled

You are the fathers of the African Renaissance

Africa would not be Africa if you were not African

Africa would not be recognized if you were not recognized

Africa would not shine if you didn’t shine

Africa would not be spotted if you were not spotted

You tell our stories the African way

If not which other way would be?

Because we are Africa

For Africa is the mother of story Tellers
EMMANUEL DOUGLAS MULOMOLE was born on 8th December 1994. He is a conscientious poet, avidly quotable writer, story writer and Life advice writer. He is from Africa, Southern part which is Malawi as his country. Many of his poems have been published on national and international website and some of her poems have also been published on international anthologies. He has won many awards from international poetry forums.


(Chinua Achebe, Jack Mapanje, William Shakespeare and many more writers)

The bards of lofty passion and mirth
Their souls of life are not on this earth
But they left us a streamingly aptitude
Today we beaming them with gratitude

Our hope tells us about gorgeous glory
Shining their wondrously splendid story
With the words of no huge pillar of fears
With the voice of voiceless folk of tears

Their sagacity is opening our knowledge
Building our years in their sagaciously age
Showing their poesies in golden histories
Painting all stanzas with fulfilling promises

Philosophic numbers in the train of smooth
Is still teaching us, their happiness of truth
Lifting now our aptitudes to self-confidence
With prolonging of peerlessly great peace
TANAKA CHIDORA 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.

(To Dambudzo Marechera and Charles Mungoshi)

on this teapot-shaped piece of earth
two writers once walked and took their breaths
and scribbled on it ominous fore tales
of dreams and visions that will hang, stale
in the dead autumn airs that will forever hang
like a witch’s sceptre over the country’s denizens

Dambudzo squirmed under the house of hunger in his mind
a hunger that mercilessly ate the shriveled bellies of mankind
he took the hunger and transmogrified it
into a confectionery of pleasure that lit
the minds of the young whose fiery rhymes
are now the voices that fly in the wind to scythe
the rhetoric of the beast that lords over us

Charles looked at the abandoned and rusty scotch-cart
and it conjured an image that made him start:
an accusing finger at the empty sky
an accusing finger from a junk-heap that continues to sigh
while waiting in abeyance for a Lazarus drop to stop this vice
of the dry throats of the ancestors and dry memories of their children
an accusing finger to a dusty sky
which, in the place of tears, wrings tattered underwear in reply

on this teapot-shaped piece of earth
two writers scribbled with their pens
the breadth and depth of the fate
of those who wait and hunger for
a home that is home no more
a home whose children wear tired grins
while the beast drowns his conscience in the gin
that is purchased with rivers of blood.
RICHARD RUNYARARO MAHOMVA is a Zimbabwean political-scientist and an avid literature aficianado. His passion for literature is grounded in African philosophy and social-science research in the areas of political-theory, public policy and architecture of governance in Africa. He is the Founding Board Director, Leaders for Africa Network, a Zimbabwean pan-Africanist governance think-tank.
PENS –DOWN ( for Charles Mungoshi)
Wake the boys up
Kick them hard out of slumber,
get them ready to receive Mukoma.

Dambudzo and Chenjerai must go with you
No hangover excuses

Leave Cde Kanengoni and Nyambuya
to the unclutter the mess of all your inks
and dirty drinks. All your thinks just stinks.

Hush Vera and wash away the joys of your tears.

You are the sober one, the most calm,
collected and deep enough though ‘Without A Name’

Gukwe (Zvavanhu) write to the living-dead who
refused your wisdom with Tafataona.
This time they will listen. They are all desperate,

“Waiting for the Rains”.

Tell them:
He is in a better place.
The Doc is not DEAD

Cuando el verso toca las fibras de la vida, las palabras se levantan de entre los polvos y comienza a andar o el viento lo esparse y cae hondo en el corazon de los libertarios que se resisten a ser esclavos del sistema. Hay miles de Scorza y su declamación se multiplica.


“Mientras alguien padezca,
la rosa no podrá ser bella;
mientras alguien mire el pan con envidia,
el trigo no podrá dormir;
mientras llueva sobre el pecho de los mendigos,
mi corazón no sonreirá.
¡Matad la tristeza, poetas!
Matemos a la tristeza con un palo.
No digáis el romance de los lirios.
Hay cosas más altas
que llorar amores perdidos:
el rumor de un pueblo que despierta
¡es más bello que el rocío!
El metal resplandeciente de su cólera
¡es más bello que la espuma!
Un Hombre Libre
¡es más puro que el diamante!”

Manuel Scorza

#Manfred Vargas Ulffe

The living rebellion of Manuel Scorza

When the verse touches the fibers of life, words rise from the dust and start to walk or the wind will spread it and fall deep in the heart of the libertarians who resist to be slaves of the system. There are thousands of scorza and their declamation is multiplied.


” while someone suffers,
The Rose can’t be beautiful;
While someone looks at the bread with envy,
Wheat can’t sleep;
As it rains on the chest of beggars,
My heart will not smile.
Kill the sadness, poets!
Let’s kill sadness with a stick.
Don’t say the romance of the lilies.
There are higher things
To cry lost loves:
The rumor of a people who wake up
It’s more beautiful than dew!
The shining metal of his anger
It’s more beautiful than foam!
A free man
It’s purest than the diamond!”

Manuel Scorza

#Manfred Vargas Ulffe

GOPICHAND PARUCHURI  is  an accomplished Literary scholar ,publisher , writer and poet in India.



Distant howling
A chorus for me
Running words
And sentences
In a novel

Eyes burning
My clock hands
Running to make a new day

Great people, with great ideas
Great words making the world great
Great deeds and good words
With rain bow colours
Fill our pages

Every word a history
Every picture a great glory
Every second an immortality
Every suffering a grand epic
All these ‘great’ belongs to you
I am always missing ?!
This is the world ….
OSMAN MBINDI, Osman Shato Mbindi ( Shato the poet) is a passionate, Zimbabwean poet. Currently residing in Beitbridge. I discovered my passion in 2016 thus when i started writing. However, my first anthology will be out somewhere along mid-February in 2019. So far I have contributed to an anthology Pleasure and pain and also on Poem Hunter on the internet. To me poetry is medicine, my mouth piece and my solace. I feel I can heal our societal ailments through the chemistry in words. I look forward to be one of the best African poets in the near future.

In this rolling world
There are branching streams that flow in the dark
The setting sun
The dusty atmosphere
Trumpeting the coming of the dry season
While the ailing World is Walking Still
Gazing at the solo angry skies
Waiting for the rains
Forgeting that;
The milkman does not only deliver milk
You held the healing ink wells
Painted words with the drops of our streaming tears
Lit the candle in the dull savanna caves
Told the scattered seeds of the baobab tree
Its wind blown fairy tales
In riddles, proverbs and stories
Under the moonlight
You told stories from the bushy forests
The troublesome cattle on the pastureland
Twittering birds
The farm land bliss and aches
That solo life lived
Watered the brown dried stumps
To shoot, flourish and bloom
Providing a shade for Africa
The whole world
Your departure
Broke our hearts into two bloody chunks
Ditched-trod our scarred souls
Would you mind coming back for a goodbye?
A celebration of your life please!
NGOZI OLIVIA OSUOHAis 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



(They Have Killed UBUNTU)

Things are falling apart
Homes they vow to thwart,
We are no longer at ease
Lives they always erase,
It is not the arrow of God
But the wickedness of a god;
They have killed UBUNTU

You fiercely fought apartheid
And your destiny untied,
Your long walk to freedom
Was an act of wisdom;
The audacity of hope
Inspired in order to cope;
They just killed UBUNTU

Frying people like potato
May cause nightfall in Soweto,
The message of Mandela
Preaches no violence for Madiba,
The dream of your fathers
Contributed to your prison diary;
Where then is UBUNTU?

There was a country
With half of a yellow sun,
Almost wiped by gun,
By an adverse effrontery,
A victim of circumstance
Searching for greener pasture;
UBUNTU is murdered.

Papa Africa, call them to order,
Enough Is Enough.


MICHAEL MWANGI MACHARIA is a poet based in the Rift Valley region, kenya.He contributes literary and education articles to the Kenyan dailies. He is also involved in directing, adjudication of music and drama. He has developing interest in History, Fine art and photography



(For Dennis Brutus)

Ever the restless soul
Your words travel the breadth
Of the entire universe
Seeds that were sown in soils
Of eager and longing hearts
Sprung into trees that hugged
Yellow moon and sparkling stars
Ushering the hour of loving-

For poets the time to weave verse
Break shackles of servitude
Reawaken hope for tired humanity
That yearns for a few raindrops
To quench the searing thirst
Strolling the parched dusty streets.
EDWARD DZONZE , a poet , publisher , writer and  organizer in Zimbabwe


Rhythms and rhymes resurrected
from the known tomb of a legendary writer
Lines lost to the grave at the expedient behest of death ,
the ultimate Angel of doom
Poetry as fair and fine as nature ,
Words exhausted to their immortal end
Huffing and puffing to Marechera’s Black Sunlight –
I see his House of Hunger turning into a monumental structure
One more puff please before i turn over to the next page

I’m smoking litetature and not toasted cigarettes
Books are wiser than weed
I know that better than a graduate
I don’t choke when i smoke, I only get wiser
Don’t give me a caricature , I know how “Marechera-sweet” literature tastes
I am a lyrical portal of poetic essence
but when it comes to this Throne of Bayonets
Honestly I maintain my silence
I would rather share, ‘cynical cigarettes
with a writer who tasted Harare and got down with diarrhoea…’

More literature for breakfast please,
I am not taking toasted bread or roasted eggs
Don’t give me a rizzla either ,
Purified perfected literature gets me high beyond the sky
How can the legend evade my penmanship?
I mean , I’m writing to imitate his “writership”
I mean the kinda dope verses
Shame, if you wanna tell me this very one is a cheap verse either
On that assertive note ,the writing pen got stark….
It got st…st ..sta …star….
Just like that it got STARK!
as if in affirmation of the rhetoric…..
Until the ultimate demolition of confusion from man’s psyche…
Meet me in the realm of light
JOHANNES MABAPA is a South African writer. He
started pursuing writing during his high school years .
He writes short-stories, novels and plays. He is passionate about reading and writing

When rainclouds gather high up to cover the African sky,
When it promises that in torrents soon it will fall,
When the sun gives a faint smile that it shall be a downpour,
Bessie casts her eyes on Bodibeng and picks Chief Sekoto.

Through Chief Sekoto’s naked eye Bessie sees justice,
She envisages an African dream of a need for coexistence;
She sees this man’s unique cranium carrying common sense
And the power to make Africa heal the insanity of humankind.

Bessie paves a path for man and reason to marry,
Otherwise the rainclouds would not have gathered,
It would not have promised to fall in torrents,
And Chief Sekoto would not hold court for the sake of justice.

It intrigues he or she who is not a casual observer
To see Bessie through the pen which is mightier than the sword
Outlaw our customary vice that undermines dear Africa
So that the clarion call for African Renaissance makes every ear itch.

Because the people of Bodibeng finally came to their senses,
Because they were purged of an insanity to attribute fate to witchcraft,
In their hearts dispersed the court of the gods of their hatred,
For the goddess Bessie had created Chief Sekoto and made him talk.


OMAR NASSAR is a Kenyan Writer and Thought Leader

Africa is indeed great
But we have let it down
As Africans when we sail
To address real issues
Subject our folks to ill use
Of political power
Of young manpower
Of natural resources
Of our economies
Of women potential
Of peaceful co-founder existence
All in the name of corruption….
When we refuse to learn:
Never to complicate
Whatever is simple
And never to replicate
Any bad example……….
Yes, we talk too much
When we could research
To better our lives
In place of futile strives……..
ROBERT ONTERI is a Kenyan poet, a teacher by profession and an M.A literature student of The University of Nairobi. He has been published in various journals and presented twice in the Kistretch International Poetry. A member of The World Union Of Poets and Piton International Film Festival.



The world, the continent came to a standstill
The climate, the cold fresh African breeze took a breath of pain
When you, A man of the people, took a last breath
When the cruel and merciless death alienated you from your pen
And now, with our palms on our cheeks, sorrowful faces can’t stop weeping
Things could have never fallen Apart on your favor

Great son of the African soil, rise up and talk through your pen
Your motherland is rotten with cannibals
Cannibals of tribalism, cannibals of dictatorship, cannibals of oppression
Cannibals who have made our sweet nations their personal property
Our people, the owners of the land, their servants!
Cannibals who got no mercy for the poor boy who needs education and shelter
Cannibals that can’t protect my daughter from molestation and harlotry
King of Africa, we need you!

You who God’s dagger-sharp arrow befell
Please come once again
Talk to their ears and before their eyes
For with us, we are mute!
We need you Father of Literature
MARYAM IDRIS BAPPAis a 23 year old graduate of Bsc Architecture from Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria who hails from Gombe local givernment and resides in Zaria. .She is a poet that participates in online and offline literary movement including Poetic Wesdesdays and Poets in Zaria. Currently studying masters in Architecture in the same university. She hopes to continue to inspire people to pursuit their dreams through her passion for poetry. When Maryam is not writing, she loves to skech and take leisure strolls



*** SON OF IRON ***

S-on of the gateway
sprouting manured seeds of the South soil,
O-n lands of your fore fathers
to royal courts of the white men.
Y-our fame is like thunderstorm
roaring the skies of the Giant,
I-nstilling a voice of promise
against the famine of our lands.
N-ot even the Nobel Prize lens
could capture your ravenous appetite,
K-indled by passion brewed
in the blood of your ancestors.
A-mongst iroko trees stands tall,
the trunk of your legacy,
O-h how the ‘Lion and the Jewel’
are metaphors of your image,
L-uring the pride of your people
to the beauty of your visions,
U-ntil Idanre itself
invites you to dine on his pedestal.
W-ole Soyinka! You are a sacred forge
to the ‘Iron People’ treasury,
O-nce upon a patriot,
on the pages of our freedom,
L-iving to immortalize triumphed wars
of knees of men in shackles,
E-levated today to be a lever
to minds of tomorrow.

GLORIA SOFIA 1985, Cape Verde. Majored in engineering and Environmental Management at the University of Azores. Develops various activities cultural áreas. Nominated as candidate for the R.M.& P Arts Initiative. She has musicalized poems. Festival poetry in Istanbul and Romania. 3 books- translate various international anthology.

Gloria sofia cartaz 01

Sun explodes in the sky
Burning the moon
Destroying the eternal blue
Germinates in my womb
Star packed with music It hurts everything
Swollen mother
Wrapped stomach
Blushing breasts
My undulating body
It’s just the blanket that covers a river
Blanket wounded by the shadow of music.
My feet step on the mud of the world.
With the weight of a child in the womb,
Fear steps my soul In a new dawn
How I suffer to have you, peace!

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. Inaugural International Fellow (2019) of the International Human Rights Arts Festival, New York( President of Poets in the World( .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 ( 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, and PERSONALITIES OF INSPIRATION,,



    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 , post on MIOMBOPUBLISHING Facebook Group or Inbox the Curator on Facebook Messenger

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