Nothing attracts me more than prowess and dexterity. For with these critical and creative ingredients. We are profoundly psyched up AND our literary consciousness is re-wired. WORLD PLAY IN A WHIRLPOOL is an all-powerful, sweet but infectious read, it haunts the reader forever. It tastes mature like red wine in old wineskins. It smells seasons like first drops of the first rain. Thus, is a scorcher, it strikes the nerves like the giant tongs of the sun during the dry season. It’s a metaphoric blast furnace that blazes and fires up iron hearted earthly dwellers into a repentant humanity of pure steel, we are baptized by the intriguing imagery as we are ritualized by the smoking waters of satire. We are born again. WORLDPLAY IN A WHIRLPOOL is heavy with subject matters that transcends from hope, death, disease, ecosystem, cultural anthropologies, biblical allusions, psychical exercises, climate change, menacing pandemics, positive change, race and perception change. WORLD PLAY IN A WHIRLPOOL is poetry that coils your heart caves and you vomit the bile of sins. It blows up your mental boxes, you shiver and weep. It rips off satans doeks to expose zealots, charlatans and political maggots corrupting and rotting the beauty of this our beloved earth. It fumigates the pandemic infested air as the earth fails to breathe due to unbridled human cruelty and wanton sin. It exposes the now sorrowful baldheaded landscapes, once shining with the verve of flora and fauna. The whirlpool arouses the skeletal sandy riverbeds that were once upon havens of laughing hippos, cackling water hens and dancing fish. it is poetry that weeps and as such wiping tears of bereaved mothers that lost so many lives during the menacing seasons of the cantankerous corona virus. It is a beautiful but heart-rending epitaph to black lives lost in barbaric racial battles, a touching eulogy to the earth succumbing to the dramatic effects of climate change, heatwaves and hurricanes. This Wordplay is an embodiment of promise, lost hope, love, loss, pain, sunset and moonshine. It is a spiritual whirlpool to transfigure ill minded political goblins and evil-minded war devils to repent from terrorism and warlords. The lyrical dexterity is superbly concocted with reason , history , spirituality ,identity and more WORD PLAY IN A WHIRLPOOL is a collaborative venture of Kenyan Poetry Tigress Nancy Ndeke and the Colorado Rockies Poetry Lioness Susan Joyner-Stumpf (Review by Mbizo CHIRASHA
The WOMAWORDS and BRAVE VOICES June Edition are marked with success, diversity and the exclusivity. The Guest Editors that included G Jamie Dedes, the WOMAWORDS Poet Laureate and Francis Otole, the Brave Voices Associate in Nigeria did a sterling job, the submissions turnover was superb and the selections were excellent. Salutations to the pen-slingers, wordsmith and great poets who took their time to submit to these great editions in June 2020. Your contributions are marked in the book of poetic life. We thank you profoundly. We take opportunity to introduce new in coming GUEST EDITORS of both BRAVE VOICES AND WOMAWORDS Journals.
Author OMWA OMBARA is a prolific African Voice in Diaspora. Her resilience hardened verses send a rebellious jab to the cantankerous, unrepentant COVID 19 pandemic. She sings a bitter hymn against chair warmers and lazy hands -on- keyboard scribes, who thrive on abusing and harvesting the sweat of resilient writers and voices from digital thicket, without any ounce of their own effort. Her rebuking lines in her hefty protest poem IN HONOR OF PRESS FREEDOM DAY 2020, a Satire glow with hard truth and snorts in the remorseless faces of double-chinned charlatans and double bellied pseudo media bosses burying the pseudo revolutionary imbecility in borrowed political berets. The Protest Poet is not holding her horses, back she throws sharp jibe into the belly of COVID 19 and her irritating twin imbeciles daughter Quarantine and Lockdown.
CURATOR OF DEFIANCE : Mr. Super-Power
It is very easy to watch child soldiers slaughtering other children in the name of war on CNN International and BBC Africa.
Hell easy to speak of democracy and peace in the comfort of uptown glitter built by Sudanese gems and golden oil.
Bloody easy to carry briefcases filled with blood money to buy rifles and mental cranking drugs for young boys in Juba to kill their elders.
It is hur….r aay cheap for you to cut off Sudanese news headlines and stash them in your political diplomacy library, get paid on the 25th of August, enjoy cups of cappuccino and forget.
Mr. Military Junta,
Sweat easy to swallow your heart and become a warlord, not ashamed to sit on tables to talk peace for people you are killing.
I say, it is not easy to see a Darfur mother’s giving birth biting a bullet. I go on to say,
It is difficult to see grenade shredded Khartoum babies on headlines of global news.
I find it not easy to walk on mounds of gun- caused shallow graves.
To see stacks of machete riddled human carcasses every day of our mighty lord.
Indian Peace Foundations,
Asian Peace Unions
And United Nations, Where are you?
While gun merchants, oil cartels
And blood diamond cabals harvest bloody wealth,
Sudan reaping death………….
Khartoum harvesting pangs of hunger
We are not mentally deaf and poetically blind ……………
Asijiki! We need a sweet fart of peace in Sudan and beyond.
Poetry is the Weapon of Mass Instruction
Tonight, after your dinner with poets of defiance. You can also pick some ink and write a verse of peace for Sudan, IN BOLD LETTERS –
Mbizo Chirasha is Editor and Curator: A Dinner with Poets of Defiance (Voice for Sudan, Brave Voices Poetry Journal 66).
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