Thank thee MOTHER

 This poem was written by Julius Chingono. It is a great poem, which talks about the undying love of a mother for her child. It is for all mothers.HAPPY MOTHERS' DAY.

I thank thee mother
Your back I wet
when I leaked
like a broken gourd,
your breast I sought
like a blind bat,
on your back
I swung like a little vagabond,
but you said
"It's my vagabond."

Life is a FABRIC

 I wrote this poem at a time when I was trying to contemplate why we are put on this earth  with certain people. I realised that the people in this world, no matter where they are or who they are, are inextricably connected to our own lives. Consider how the decision of someone in America or Africa or anywhere in the world determines the flow of your life, and ultimately the fate of the world. So I compare life and the world to a piece of fabric, where a varied number of individual threads fitted together according to a pattern form unique wholeness, so that the absence of any single thread mars the perfect beauty of the fabric itself (every thread that makes up the fabric). I hope you enjoy it.



Each being is a thread, a fibre
Joined to another, and another, and another
Forming an interconnection of lives
Each independent from the other
But very much dependent on each other.


Each thread an individual on its own
But still connected to another in the fabric of life
Such that the destruction of one
Destroys another, and another, and another
Until the beauty of the fabric of life is distorted and marred.


Each thread is inextricably connected to the other
So that the actions of one
Ripples through the fabric of life.
Into this fabric is woven 
Intricate patterns which stay true
Never changing, never altering.


Life's fabric is not perfect
But it's beautiful
Worth donning.

No Sunshine When She's Gone

 I wrote this to mirror the feeling people get when they lose a loved one(a female loved one). The feeling of loneliness and longing for the past good moments which will not be experienced again, the moments of wonder and shear joy. I hope you'll like it.


  It's like winter,
  When the nights are so cold.
  It's like harmattan,
  When there is no beauty, but just.......dryness and emptiness.
  It's like a rainy day,
  When the spirit is damp and the soul is awash in despair.
  It's like a hailstorm, 
  When the soul is battered by threescore and a dozen conflicting emotions.
  It's like a sunless garden........when she is gone.
  There ain't no sunshine when she is away.


  When she is gone.
  When she is away.
  A million miles away.
  Many mountains and seas away.
  It feels like torment, like hell, burning and raging like the blue of a flaming inferno.
  It tastes like a beautiful recipe of life, 
  Missing an essential ingredient.
  It sounds like the well struck and strung, chorded and keyed music of the universe's orchestra,
  Lacking a voice as priceless and pure and perfect as her person.
  It feels like a vision,
  Bereft of lustre and colour, and brightness as beautiful as the sun repairing to it's home in the horizon beyond.
  It's like a sunless garden........when she is gone.
  There just ain't no sunshine when she is away.


  When she is gone.
  Gone..............
  Gone..............
  Gone with the wind;
  Gone with the sparkle of the stars-
  Floating in the silvery blue sea of the sky;
  With the beauty of spring;
  With the smile of the sun.
  It's like a sunless garden.........when she is gone.

  There ain't no sunshine when she is away.