Excerpt for Art Plus Hope: Poetry by , available in its entirety at Smashwords








Various Poets One Voice

Art Plus Hope| ©2019 Jurgen Namupira

All rights reserved

Foreword by Abel Mavura

ISBN: 9780463816134

Publisher: Smashwords, Inc.



In one of his writings he says; "No no no...I can't see the morale decay prevail." Talk of people preaching about Ubuntu yet "they can't control their conjugal thirsts for fresh blood Enough is Enough No acrimonious man should temper with the honey of my generation." Jugen is a natural wordsmith gifted and talented. I have never regretted reading his writings, his uniqueness is on how he plays around jargon and his words create poetry that heals, gives hope and assurance of better things ahead. I encourage readers to take their time and enjoy Namipira's work together with the contributors to this anthology. They have all exhibited a commendable level of excellence in the creation of their poems within.

Editor’s Word

In my personal view, literature is one medium with the greatest potential to make unity and peace a reality. My passion for art is immeasurable and I wish to see literature heal the broken societies.

Calling for submissions was something I decided after a serious consideration. I knew there are poets out there who can come together and write something great to either teach or inspire the world. What was stopping them? An initiative was needed that could recognize them and create a platform for them to write. Hence, I started this anthology of poems.

I have to admit, most of them are way better than me. Yet, they have been hibernating for so long. I believe and trust this anthology will help inspire more poets to breaks out of their own silent corners.

Furthermore, I am overwhelmed that the project has received recognition beyond my Zimbabwean community. We also have contributions from two poets from Congo and South Africa. Hopefully, in the future we will grow bigger.

Enjoy the read!

Jurgen Namupira (Poet, Freelancer, Author & Public Speaker)

Heartbreaking Ordeal

By Emmie Lembe

They all sit and discuss my future without my concern, if I'm a senseless toddler

My hands are tied together,

My mouth clamped.

I have no say towards my life

I'm just a twelve year old investment...

Whose parents are marrying me away?

My childhood is destroyed, gone in a meeting

Only to pay my parents’ debts

I want to voice my thoughts

My decisions and my rights,

But one silly attempt will earn me a bruised cheek.

I'm not being abused

I'm just being imprisoned

They say they are doing it for my sake,

But I don't remember asking them to,

But what can I say?

I'm just a child after all

And my life has come to an end.

I'm getting married

To a man thrice my age

It's ridiculous if you ask me,

But what do I know

I'm just a child after all

I tried to make them understand,

But I always end up with an aching body.

My future is ruined and there's no

Turning back


By KyTheGenius

It started when my parents died early that year's dawn

Since that time, days were stagnated and time never seem to be gone.

Happiness never seem to be common, but rather feels strange,

As I lived the whole of my life in danger.

My stepfather who claimed to be my guardian,

Neither cares for me nor provided me with proper guidance.

But rather chose to gave me sexual harassment,

And there was no one to share the stories of my pathetic circumstance

One day he pretended to be a good person,

I could even predict that from his actions.

He bought me sweets and chocolate to make me cheer,

But from deep within I was trembling with fear.

Late that night as I was doing my homework,

I overheard someone's footsteps pounding towards my room through the hallway.

I thought it was a nightmare but realised the truth when I heard my room door open,

My heart throbbed with fear, power was drained from my joints and was left nowhere.

With a fierce grin on his face, he closed the door from his behind.

From his behind, he popped a box rapped as a present.

A present that shocked me since of it was a thing he never ever did,

That made me shiver and more frightened to such a bid.

I watched him unbuckling his trousers belt and threw it on the floor,

Realising I was in danger, I tried to reach for the door.

I couldn't reach any further as he hit me with a blow,

And later realised I've been raped as I found myself lying in blood flow.

By that time, I was only twelve

Give Me Hope

By The Drtyreblyk

Every day is a story, all of its own

And each night is a mystery fully blown

A single moment can change the mood and tone

So many moments and turning points have come and gone

Why wait for the next one? I choose right now

As I take a bow while I make a vow

In a pledge... an oath...and a promise to keep

Only way to be bound so that I can go so deep

Redemption- a beauty that I can't ignore

Wish it for others so that they earn more

Close my eyes. Not in defeat but for all the energies I summon

For this is going down as I get it on

Easy going? Because I'm strong and defiant

It needs a lot of understanding among ants as a giant

Demigod levels that require a lot to be done

Still rest before I rise again after being number one

Now that is when I have to defeat myself

Evolving to be better, put my old self on the shelf

Then give number one to others, for it's never enough

Never kept by the top because staying there is a bluff

Must keep walking to finding virgin territories

I only maintain to change patterns of histories

Rest when I can and move when I have to move

Dance to my groove as the beat improves

With the voices in my head inspiring me

Nurture ideas to reality. Ideas that I sired

Drinking nectars from the heavens so that I never falter

Enjoy the scenery but my own vision I won't alter

Like a child be as simple as I can be

Each moment, a masterpiece to the world

A gift from me

Free my heart. Undo the chains and ropes

Give me happiness. Give Me Hope

Until When!

By Duke

Single parenting in an old shaky home,

Sitting on a sceptical patchy infant's blanket,

Thinking about the vain promises,

Streams of tears flowing down the withered cheeks,

Torn stockings covering the crack-pricked feet,

Until when should you suffer?

You are now like an orphan,

Yet your parents are still alive,

Eating once like a hunting dog,

Begging for food like a widow,

Spending the whole day peeping at your schoolmates through the window,

But who is to blame?

Your parents accepted a bubble gum bride price from a rascal,

Oh little sweetheart!

You deserve much better than this,

If you found a responsible caring mother,

We would have had a strong upcoming nation

Stolen Youth

By DocFreezy

I could have sworn I left them right here.

Stepped out to play for a second and when I returned they were not there

It’s just so unfair

Who in their right God-fearing mind would dare…

Steal the little God-given rights of a little pers1on like me


I am a 9 year old man

Understand that I have to make a plan,

I have to report for duty clock in and begin my shift

There is cotton to be picked out on these fields I need to make my quota

Pick enough lint so there is enough material for my mother’s daughter to sew together into a garment for her quota too

Yes, she too was up early today

I left her at the gate of the clothes factory

Clocking in for her own shift

All I know is what I have been taught,

What I have seen

What I have experienced

And all I've been taught

All I've seen

All I’ve experienced

Is right here on these plantations and fields

In these stuffy factories

To eat you have to work

There is no time to play

For he that plays will starve

There goes our manager driving out

In the back seat of his car are his daughter and son

Everyday as we clock into the farms and factories they drive out

Clean clothes, I hear they are called uniforms

I wonder where they go to work

They always seem so happy, so clean, so healthy

And when the day is done they return too.

With so much energy they play

We have lost all energy

All we want to do is hit the hay

Who stole my rights I say

Why would you

What benefit has it done you?

Where have you placed my innocent youth?

Why am I one of the youngest adults I know?

You could have waited

I could have grown

And been a more productive Ox tomorrow,

But alas and to harsh reality sorrow

I'll return to my work station tomorrow

I was never young

My youth was stolen


By Munyaradzi Muvezwa

No car can outrun fate,

Destiny inevitable;

In a young bright day, star of the war

Of a sweet tender age, pure than earth

A short while lasting joy was destroyed in seconds

The blood with murmuring hearts stormed the earth

The fresh decay Christian grudges astonished the nature

In thousand blood showers, the night poured its sorrow

The weeping air on earth foretold illustrious tragedy

Flourishing with fierce tyrants, highest exploits were performed

Sending the young to die, a hopeful world was gone

Setting in motion the holy war that never was

Streams turned red like Mars's star

Stars seem set only to quench the rage

In mourning black continued more marks of woe

From dark shadows, sad echoes, the unborn wept

With untimely tear, though far, the skies complained

The sun never set, only ugly nights

Men's Standing

By The Drtyreblyk

O men. How do you stand?

What is your drive as you exist in this land?

Is it for others? Or do you fulfil selfish desires?

Even if it's for yourselves, what's for others you aspire?

Did you ever stop to see the Truth just to realize?

That how can popular opinion ever make you wise?

Will this erudition show you the value of your own choice?

It's someone else's experience. What about your own voice?

Can it rise beyond the universal silence or do you keep it shut?

Does it show the Truth or is the Truth trimmed and cut?

Since when do you decree what is important or unnecessary?

Are you okay with turning a visionary into a mercenary?

If I walk my own way, will you still call me stray?

When I pick your choices, are my consequences what you will pay?

Should I play like a double agent and have double standards?

As I get my dues who should benefit from my rewards?

A peace of mind! What's a peace of mind in a world so blind?

How can I be free when Inner Peace I still have to find?

Why should I walk on pathways that don't feel natural?

Must I do away with myself and keep appearances through lifeless rituals?

Boys will be boys but why our eternal youth we sacrifice?

Should I be pleasing to your principles just to be nice?

Do I have to be complete when I endorse your branding?

Tell me brothers. What's Men's Standing?


By Judith Mahla

You strip me naked when you hit me

How heartless you are towards me;

My tears do not shake you at all?

You feel like I am a burden to you

I shed confused tears Why God?


I am a child

Destined for a bleak future

I will not even stop crying.

For how long

My mind is full of grief

My life is full of misery

All I seek is love and peace.

How do you do that?

Why do you treat me so badly?

I will not even say a word.

My body will not be tattooed with your hands and belts.

All I seek is guidance from my care givers.

They say education is...

The key to success,

The only weapon to change the world,

But to me it has become a dream that shall forever remain a fallacy.

Now I fear for my future,

But l still believe that one day tables will turn

I shall chase the red devils away from my life.


By Gerald Tapiwa Moyo


Offer of the day.


Has been the tolerated charisma


Is the life of the girl child


Fooled by false honest looking faces,

She loses the ability to satisfy her heartfelt chances.


She thought it would make her traveling dreams come true.

She became the captured.

Human trafficking-

Is the malady

Manipulation of

Our Sisters,

Our Mothers,

Our Aunties,

Our Girls!

Sex slaves they became.


Money is really the root of all evil,

If anyone who reasons,

Tries to dispute

A clear agreement in association with the devil

Stripped naked-

To be advertised.

What a shame.

Tagging a human being



There is the Two Edged Sword.

Why such an awful inheritance?

Slave traders-

The Ruthless




You the audience

Make the change

Enough is enough

What our girls are facing is tough.

Even in the public places,

What is harvested no are chances.

Sexual Harassments-

Happen again and again.

I say no to all this folly.


By Chenjerai Mhondera

--- Let us peace


To avoid become pieces.


--- You are brothers

Do not fight.

The fight of a brother against a brother

Does not make you strong;

It exposes you where you are weak.


--- Let us peace


To avoid pieces.


---- You are brothers,

Do not fight.

The fight of a brother against a brother

Does not make victory;

It revives old wounds and lives hatred – so is vengeance.


--- Let us peace


To avoid pieces


--- You are brothers

Do not fight.

Save soul and develop the nation;

Brothers are one –

they build one another into a strong power.


--- Let us peace


To avoid pieces,


And crises


--- You and I

Are tenants…

How can we be, if we do not turn ends?


By KyleTheGenius

When my parents died,

In hell I was thrown.

Like rinsed clothes in scorching sun, I'm being dried;

My body is in pain as if I'm stoned.

Even those who seem to guide;

Their happiness comes each time I mourn.

Nobody seems to care,

Even when I'm as sick as hell, they always stare.

Trying to ask for help, they won't even dare.

I'm left nowhere, only crawling on these grounds that are bare;

And this life of mine is full of drama and nightmare.

I can't see what my future holds since my sight is blare.

Trying to standout for my rights,

I always end up in a fight.

Their penetrative glare is full of fright,

As I know I'm in danger, not even tomorrow but that very night.

A long-twisted sjambok with spikes,

Could actually give my back a strong strike

Trying to disclose that aim misunderstood,

They give me three days without food.

With a rumbling-empty-stomach, I look around in orchards for fruits.

My toes are always hurt as I walk on bare foot,

They chase me out, as they say I'm rude.

And I could actually depict their stinginess from their mood,

Everybody knows their attitude even from the surrounding neighbourhood.

I'm forced to work like a slave,

And I couldn't do anything as fear trembles in my nerves.

They always force me to carry heavy bags,

With a mockery tone of their evil voices, they call me brave.

I'm only sinking in this stinking pain,

As I wish if my parents could ever come back again.

It’s Complicated

By Doctor coGwila

Complicated- the most abused word by people to shun reality

They say we are defined by what we do but it turns out that most of us are pretenders

Is it really the world I signed out for?

A question to ponder

As Jesus was betrayed by a kiss so am I being led astray by these slay Queen's and Kings

People who thrive on fame

People who are afraid of commitment

Their faith is shorter than John 11vs 35

Jesus wept...

Apparently he will cry seeing what this world has become

Sleeping around and immense drug abuse has become our main definition

Verily verily where purpose is not known abuse is inevitable

Youths of today are living life without a purpose

A life where we get into relationships without clear intentions

Are we not digging our own graves?

Nobody knows

A good character the only pathway to success so they say

Does this mean we are all doomed?

Now I'm confused

We go clubbing on Saturday night and Sunday morning we are in church singing hymns

Who are we deceiving?

Yes he is a forgiving God but can he bear our everyday lamenting

Sometimes it advisable that we man up and avoid the avoidable

The Bible says we are little gods

As he is in heaven so are we

But do our deeds really depict a picture of him?

Philosophy and reasoning has become our scapegoat

Where we say we are liberal and free spirited

We all quote the bible to justify our deeds when it says Enjoy the time of your youth

But is it all what the verse says

It's so complicated I guess we only reads what suits our ego

Wish I could know

So I say repent for the kingdom of heaven is at hand

You better seek ye first the kingdom of God and everything shall be added unto you

Solitary lover

By Duke

Alone, sitting on a old armchair,

His chin supported by his left hand.

Seated there thinking of his,

only lover who is distant from him.

Although having side affairs,

When he thinks of his precious one,

His heart pounds having mixed feelings

Then tears will fall down his cheeks

Through his rhysom bearded chin.

Whenever he tries to whistle a gospel song,

Instead a love song is popped out of his mouth.

Mad as he may seem to be, like Hamlet,

Till his peers think that he was given a love potion

Whereas it is a grand fortune for him.

He was left two years back by his lover,

But thou yet memory be green.

Fantasy and memory is just what is left for him,

Yeah, she's been loved by the best,

A solitary love


By Chychy the writer (Chenai Boroma)

I’m done with this life and I surrender!

Allow me to pour out my heart,

In agony yet so earnest

Hold your guns of judgement for now

And for a minute listen!

I fail to speak,

I stammer,

My words are jumbled

Like a Greek puzzle you might fail to understand

Maybe it’s the pain I’m feeling

Or rather it is the liver poison I’m gulping

But just for a moment play not the role of God all you who are quick to judge.

You know me not,

Then why cast a stone like you never sinned.

Why become a barricade to my smile and freedom

Like the Mosaic law you always leave me broken,

A ramshackle.

Spare my pride and personality for once and judge me not.

Uniqueness wasn’t chosen but instilled in all of us during creation

Why then attack my difference when you yourself are also different in some way?

Develop some thick skin for once and cover the devil in you.

I’m referring to you brood of vipers,

Who are the darkest of darkness inside,

White washed tombstones.

With nothing resembling life in you,

Here you are extending claws,

Sharpening Jaws,

Just so you can devour me.

For what?

What’s the price?

So I can bid myself out of your sphere and beyond your reach.

Where are you who claim to care for me?

Aren’t you busy fuelling the fire

The inferno burning my ego to ashes,

The flames clamping down the least of my being left,

What is to remain of me then?

Amongst a multitude I’m lonely.

These eyes they sat on me are not of love or concern,

They’re programmed to pick on my errors

But I’m asking you;

Who’re you to label me a sinner?

Why ignoring the plank in your own eye?

Are we not meant to complement each other?

Then who are you to act judge and condemn me guilty?

Break away from poverty

By Doctor coGwila

There are many philosophies, mantras and things that I never believed in nor contemplated about it

Things that I thought were not worth pursuing

Coz as I grew up my mind was always telling me that all this was child play

A Psychological trick that teachers and older peopled used to get us participate in sporting activities

All because of fear to be labelled as an outcast in society ,I had no choice but to comply

Fortunately it was a blessing in disguise

Since I later discovered that when you exercise

Your mind refreshes, it's a great time when you get to reminisce with your inner person

It's more like a supernatural world where you breach the laws of nature and with speed you get to travel through space and time

Amazing, isn't it?

After all I'm just a weirdo

I now sound like a broken recorded when I keep on mumbling the psychological facts over and over just to prove a point

Is this the choice that I made to let philosophy flood my brains?

Vague but true....

Basking in glory is what I do when a woman gets pregnant

For four times I have conceived n I still carry the pride

But what went wrong with this one?

Did I commit any crime?

Contemplating if the laws of nature have changed that’s all I could do when months were passing by

My heart filled with hope that the foetus will grow and find its way into the only God designated home

But lo it never did.

As if it had been told I was a taboo that shouldn't be associated with

I have never felt so useless.

So Afraid of what this child could become

Why the fallopian tubes of all the places

Conspiracy is now the new order of the day

Where nature takes its course without any boundaries

So wake-up and smell the coffee

In this world anything is really possible

Henceforth allow me to welcome you to the world of endless possibilities

Where limitations are a fallacy

From now you identify yourself as a victor and it can only be achieved by a change of mindset, attitude and Gratitude

With this in place there is no limit whatsoever for you will have broken the chains of poverty and regret...

Roots for Medicine, Leaves for Manure

By Chychy the writer (Chenai Boroma)

Roots for medicine,

Leaves for drugs

Less roots and more leaves is their lifestyle

The reason why they don’t glow to match their age

Their grandparents’ siblings, is what they look like

But in age they’re our youths.

Running and hiding from today’s reality and hardships is the order of the day,

Escapees of their own selves,

With no time to strategize solutions for development they escape reality into an untold world.

A sequence of a spark, smoke, followed by inhalation is what gets them in their own space.

A world where elders, morals and shame exist not

The aftermath is unspeakable,

Shameless and heartbreaking

They’ve grown thick-skin for defensive purposes so how can we even counsel them.

Some of them are so violent that we live in fear of the untold worst.

They’re a curse to a woman’s womb.

They waste a day to wandering around in confusion like spies of Babylon.

With no tangible production but tones and heaps of crime they commit in a second of the leaves’ influence.

We’re used to their unusual faces

Bulging red veined eyes,

On the verge of popping out for a horrific scene,

Dark black cracked lips,

Most of them suffer from malnutrition.

Some complain of dry mouth,

Even saliva lives not in a slaughterhouse of life.

Their nasal passages have become so widened,

Mucus trickling out in disgust of the those watching.

I won’t even mention the internal damage of their bodies,

Lest I break down in tears of sympathy

The leaves know their value,

For that reason they claim their worth not by coins or pennies but by one’s health

Slowly but surely,

Eventually, you pay.

By that time no root can save what its own leaves spit out.

It’s a choice you take,

Get merry today,

Have confidence to cause scenes now,

Have supernatural strength and speed

But for just a moment

The bill is on your health.

Or stay clean and sober for the betterment of your own self.

A disappointment it remains,

Having to be conquered and sent to the grave early and young

By leaves which talk or act not.

They’re Puppets of the seed they water and grow.

Sanity prevails not under the leaves influence,

The brain seizes not to think straight,

Only to wake up later from the illusion and face reality head on

They own no assets,

Not even their characters and visions.


Until when are they going to learn and grasp the concept?

Roots for medicine,

Leaves for manure

Just for the growth of the state and health for our youth.

Mother Earth

By Bertha

Earth! Ooh dear Earth...

What have you turned into? Once upon a time praises were showered upon you .

"Mother!" they would call you with honour and dignity. I wonder if you still stand worthy of the respect.

Not that you are to blame for it all,

But it all happens at your watch

You leave me no choice…

Maybe a narration of the tragedies will assist in stealing your attention

Abortions have become normal, in fact a lifestyle,

People now use science to cover it up; "it's not yet human"

So they say!

Despite being aware of its pulse

Women have lost their dignity.

Wonder who advised them altering the creator's temple is the only easy way out.

It's time you honour the name bestowed upon you.

Please the mother you once were.

Mother Earth the glowing lamb of the universe.

The flank street

By Curt Masango

If only, only if

For the purpose of unity

If only, could unite

Its mid day and the sun is blazing

Reflections of the hazy illusions

Packed and shelved in retreat mode

Ailing, succumbing to life

Ulcerated, lacerated to the deepest born

Dry skirmish bones cling by a weary dark black skin

The eyes glowing amber, sunken deep

Cracked dry and rough, the lips like the old munhondo tree

The legs scurvy like an old pirate castrated for evil doing

Unsanctioned and ill mannered like a chunky stomach

It's sad and the sun is scorching

The street is flank and small

Deep in the midst of an old location

An abject side trodden reflected with a white straight like tarred road on the middle

Nostalgia of the past drinking from a now old rusty cup

All tainted in a frown smile, exposing black and yellow stains

Tears trolling down like the roller coaster out of the rail on a free falling spree

In conversant;

The rains have to come

The breeze with the morning aroma

Healing and strengthening of the weak weary ones

Life kneeling down to the ancestors and the Almighty

For justification and nemesis en route the flank street...

Then like a faint maiden's voice

To the saint it was a clear choice

"If only... could unite."


By Nashiey 360

She is girl....

She is African....

Her birth is met with snorts and hisses

At three, she's deflowered with the razor

And at ten, she's ripe

Ripe to become a bride..

So she is sold

Into celebrated slavery

Her mates are in school

But she's her Man's tool

She gratifies his urge

Satisfies his lust...

She is child

But she's been robbed childhood

Now she toes the way of motherhood,

But Girl!

Even if her happiness is tied with uncertainty's rope

She is still with hope...

Hope, maybe not for her

But for the future - her generations to come

A future where uncanny traditions will cease

A future where her daughters heart will be stolen, in love

And not sold to the highest bidder.

But this future.... she merely hopes…


By Nashiey 360

Hi dad, it's me, your baby girl

When I came into your life I had hopes and dreams

I hoped for happiness, acceptance and understanding

I hoped for peace, warmth and stability

I hoped you would hold my hand as I grew up

I hoped you would be there when the sun set for me and the light behind the clouds seemed forever lost

I dreamt you would be my hero, my knight in shining armour,

I dreamt you would be my friend, my confidant my mentor,

I dreamt you would be my teacher, my guide and light of my life,

I dreamt you would lovingly showing me how to mature into an adult

I dreamt you would accept me through my most rebellious days

I needed you to teach me how to stand on my own

I needed you to teach me to own that space in the world that's solely mine

I needed you to teach me to live up to my responsibilities

I needed you to teach me appropriate speech and behaviour

I needed you to teach me how to stand up for myself

I needed you to teach me boundaries and how to protect myself

I needed you to teach me right from wrong.

I needed you to be there when my life fell apart

I needed your support and understanding through my darkest days and nights

I needed your comfort and love when I fell into the abyss

I needed your tenderness and understanding when there was none

I needed you to save me from my darkest demons and scariest monsters

I needed your encouragement, your praise, your recognition, your honesty and security

I needed you to believe in me and my potential

But most of all, I needed to you to show me that I matter to you

Not because of what I do or what I wear or what I think or my friends, my music, my marks in school or my choices

I needed to know that I matter to you but because I'm you're little girl

I now know that you couldn't be that person for me,

I know you had a hard life, your mom passed when you were eleven,

You were abused by your step-mom and left home at thirteen,

I know you struggled to just catch your breathe

I know you struggled not to succumb to the darkness, the loneliness, the solitude and the silence

I now understand that you craved the happiness, acceptance, peace and stability just as badly as I hoped for it.

Dad, now that I am an adult, that little girl inside of me still needs you to be my hero,

But, how can I explain to you how it hurts when you now reach back to me now without acknowledging the pain, the hurt and void you gave me?

How can I show you that without accountability, there can be no healing?

How can I show you that our relationship mirrors that of the men in my life?

How can I show you that as much as I love you and as much as I would to let you in

I still need to be unconditionally loved, accepted, praised, encouraged and supported

I still need my boundaries to be considered and respected

Dad, I do understand your struggles and now,

I wish for you the healing, hope and clarity that I found,

I wish you for the strength to withstand the tests we face in life,

I wish the peace you so desperately crave and the love that's gone missing for so many years. 

I love you dad.

Tears of a woman

By Cep The Unpredictable

Being a woman has become one of the hardest thing in this lifetime

Always expected to hold all the responsibilities

Rarely save time to spend some quality time with my fellow women in the society

With my husband treating me like an inmate in a solitary confinement

Shading tears became a habit till now

I wake up early every morning & carry out my daily routines

I prepare and send my children to school

I do the same for my husband who is always unappreciative and despising my efforts

This is what I do on a daily basis

However, as a daughter-in-law,

l have always been trying my best to fulfil my obligations

Though my mother-in-law never bothered to mentor me on how to do that staff

She even dislikes the idea of me having my own neighbourhood friends

Evidenced by her mockery & scornful statements about them

As time went by, l was getting more & more used to her heartless attitude

Up until now, the drum beat is the same

My life is not an attractive one

I rather call it a middle class life

All because of an uncaring, careless drunkard of a hubby

I had to start up some piece jobs for better family survival

Having to walk two and half kilometres to and from the water source

Same for firewood, l die hard using my one & only head to carry a pile

Being a woman, a mother & daughter in law has finally gave me greater experience & lifetime lessons

Above all, l always pray that the almighty intervenes

Because I have an hundred percent surrendered it all

An innocent cry

By Tanyaradzwa Mtema

His smile gave me a hint.

All I could see was the power of greediness,

And an effective suspension of consciousness

Only because of that bunch of dollars his fatherly love evaporated.

How I solely wished for the rein of a thread of normalcy.

Gone are the days when my tears would trigger his anger.

He preferred offering a tissue to wipe them,

But has he thought carefully of the pain that I am enduring.

Eyes red hot with anger I waved my childhood home,


I knew my next return would be different than my going.

Today I am a child but tomorrow like a mother I will return.

The sight of the other girls of my age playing and dancing,

Triggered pain and an affection of my lost future

What have I done to deserve this?

Poverty! Oh dear poverty!

Look at how within a glimpse of time you have transformed my life.

The toned small brown suitcase on my head,

Signifying my scratched heart

How I wish I would be enduring the pain of my textbooks.

Yes I am a child,

But that does not mean I can be tossed and turned like any other object.

They advocate for CHILD RIGHTS,

But all my society sees is the post


I am a girl but that does not mean I can be bought and sold.

I am not an object but I am an angel.

I have a future just like my male counterpart.

Yes today I might not be allowed to speak but,

I will not stop fighting for my freedom.

Like a wife I have lived,

Turned into a mother at a tender age

Do you not have pity?

Enduring the weight of his huge masculine body,

Together with the odorous perfumed air from his sweated body.

Finally his odoriferous act was over!

You might have taken my pride, but I am still a child.

I will stand up for my little sister’s,

Not to go through the same ugly road.

Though I have endured shame and laughter as his youngest wife,

Like an eagle I will rise!

Victimized not by choice

By Tanyaradzwa Mtema

“Hey young lady can I give you a ride.”

His protruding jaws gave out the ugliest smile.

His face so wrinkled and aged enough to be her father

Unfortunately looks did not make a difference.

All that glittered in her eyes was nothing,

Other than the wavery of his dirty money

Back in the village, grandmother does the all the house chores.

Daily prayers offered upon her grandchild,

How hopeful she is that light shines for her in the city.

So sad!

Eyes glowing with the glittery eye shadows,

The long eyes lashes, adding the beauty.

Glowing red lips matching the mini-red dress.

She is a goddess of beauty,

An envy for every woman, but an admiration for any man.

Transformed into an adult whilst she is only sixteen

“Hey that’s my client?”

Fighting for men other than books,

Envying the naked dresses other than school uniforms

Holding a cigarette in her left hand and in another a bunch of money,

She now prefers the night clubs not school.

Only if she knew the cost of her pride as a woman!

The fear of ‘Big Mama' trigger the shivers.

Her own share of money is always set aside,

Whilst grandmother suffers in the village

Big mama took her out of the gutters,

Now in her heart she resides and,

In her mind she cycles.

She has no shame but has to please him.

She has to give in for the survival sex,

Not ashamed of the young girl’s age,

He fell for the incest.

The pornography playing on the screen disturbs her mentality.

There he is taking the first move and asking for the apple.

Out of desperation, she gives in only to survive to see the next day.

At the end of the day she needs food, clothing and shelter.

Not so long ago she used to hug her tiny teddy bear,

Always praying and dreaming to becoming a doctor in future.

Now she is the patient lying helplessly on the hospital bed,

As AIDS continues to take aware,

The little that’s left within her

The unbearable pain

By Rinae Mabodi

Her tears met with the blood;

Brutally she was beaten;

For she was a child to her late mother;

Introduced by her father to a forced marriage;

Married a man who never cared of her feelings

As he only wanted to satisfy his manhood;

All because of her greedy father,

Taking advantage of her late mother;

Running away from being a responsible father

Selling her to a beast all because of money;

Hell on earth she experienced,

For the marriage was nothing but pain;

An idea of being a woman she had not;

Oppressed she became,

The inner person slowly died,

To an early grave she followed her mother,

For she couldn't bear the pain anymore

The Pending Period...

Gerald Tapiwa Moyo

A little distance

Not more than where the breathes heat

Stands in thin air,

A fist in pursuit of striking her

Once lovely nose with less hair,

Misses when suddenly a loud noise,

A bang on their front door

Window frames shivered.

The husband flattens out

His wife’s friend with lie

Visitor leaves the apartment.

A blank space was detected,

Right there in their forced attachment.


She rushed into this tragic situation.

Without her consent to choose,

An unexpected ballistic missile stroke

At the very core

Her educational life was suspended.

A teenage pregnancy became her meandering shock.

Parents attempted to disown her,


She attended a child marriage,

Of which she was the child being married.

She muses about her previous educational life.


Misery smites her face.

She waits.

Firstly she thought it was just a story in a fairytale book,

Yet she witnesses as other little girls get on the hook.

She calls it life in remand.

An open prison

She waits.

Asks herself,

“When will this early marriage doom come to end?”

She tags her case pending.


By Chantell Tsitsi Murembeni

Born of a servant woman,

Who fled and left me serving her punishment.

An innocent child smeared with sin.

So many aggravating scenes

Impeccability vanishes

How does a child survive?

When faith has eroded?

Forlorn hope,

And father never cares!

The smile on his face, when his other children play

Is totally priceless

Are we not all products of the same seed?

This turmoil is too heavy!

The anger I harbour for this universe! Mother especially

I feel helpless, it is beyond my capabilities

An imbecile like me, brought into this world,

To only suffer more and whither

Do children have to be compared?

That pain searing moment

When your siblings call you names

I know no scent of new clothing

These tatters I wear are my identity

The school I go to, can never be compared to theirs

My world is very dull,

I wish I could have died from the beginning.

Wild Flower

By Tashinga Luckmore Majiri

In a territory of fangs and claws beauty stood

Her peaceful nature silenced the howling danger

The hue combination lured me closer

The exquisite petals revealed nature creativity

Plane beauty yet so mystical

Devine in stature. It must be biblical

It appears this moment will be historical

Moonlight reflecting on past droplets made it all magical

I look into my heart I see she owns it

I’ve lost control of my own mind

In the depth of her eyes I realize she is really is wild flower

Amazing rare creature, at the same time fragile

Maybe I should keep contact minimal

Yet the core of me that’s not practical.

In Her Mother's Shoes


The girl, upon realising she had passively inherited her mother's pair of shoes, stood up to her full height...

Strutted on the runway?


Looked down at her feet in admiration?


She stood to her full height and...

Stood the ground

You see,

This the million others in the world who inherit their mother's shoes;

Is expected to sustain the legacy by holding on and passing the token to their offspring...


But how do you toe along, when the shoe does pinch?

How do you even strut, when the stilleto squeaks?

The pain

That discomfort

It's a sore struggle

In a world that's notorious for handing the weak with lemons,

And in a society that teaches the victim to make lemonade out of the lemons...what more do you expect?


But this girl dares;

She threw back the lemon and demanded an orange...her orange...her own share of the sweet succulence of justice and equality and fairness...


Don't get too confused yet, there is no complicated allegory to this story,

It's a simple story-albeit not sorry...

About a girl

The girl;

Who found herself in the same spot as her mother;

Yelling hubby

Saucers breaking

Pans flying

Glass smashing

Blood on the pillowcase

Door banging

Lights off

And silence

The silence...

The silence as the closing quotes to the chaos

The silence perpetuating into infinity

The silence commuting on from generation to generation...

Morphing into a culture

The culture mutating into an entity: a bleached sin

So this girl...

The girl;

In her mother's shoes,

Can't contain the pinch any longer

She yearns for comfort,

She longs for freedom

So...when the day came

All she did was stamp the her mother's shoes, looked in his eyes and said in a fearless voice:


Still we rise

By Tashinga Luckmore Majiri

Out of spite and greed, all wrapped up in stupidity

They burned my home

Fortress of masters and stars

Roots to what's eternal

A vain attempt to uproot the earth

Oblivious that fire is creative

Just as it is destructive

The ash Valley

Today is a flower bed

A millennium of repetition

The still send armies after prophets

Full armor with bigger guns

A heart, slow and turning dark

To cease and destroy is the job description

Still we rebuild with a faith stronger than our fears

Glory is for the bold

The future is foretold.

Woman Walking In the Rain


It poured and purred

The rain falling in swathes

Forget cats and dogs

The deluge was gracefully silky

I stood by the wooden window

Looking out into the rain

Tracing the patterns of the fall with my mental finger

Counting the bubbles made by the raindrops

Wondering if the sun would shine again


A woman;

Dark and lean

Drenched clean

Walking quietly and slowly

Walking in the rain

Nonchalant and ease

A bundle of firewood on the head

Walking home

In the rain

To start a fire

And make supper

For the children

As she passed

I stared long into a water bubble


My mind whispered to me

There are millions of such women in the world

Women walking nonchalantly in the rain

With bundles of fire on their heads

Fire to feed families

Fire to light paths

Fire to warm hearts

Fire to make love

Fire to spark life

Fire to inspire

Fire to lead

Fire to fight


The next it rains

Look out your window

You might see her;

One of the million few

Women walking in the rain

Scary Scars

By Rinae Mabodi

Her scars were discovered at the mortuary;

A young lady who silently died under abuse,

As she was a child and a lover to her father

Surprisingly all happened under her mother's watch

But she couldn't say a word,

For unto her death was promised

Watching her daughter's coffin going down

She broke down into pieces

Her husband standing tall as a comforter

Acting so strong and innocent

As they bury their own child

A gift from God that many cry to have

Was treated like an animal by her own blood

Slowly but surely her mother stood tall

And gather all the people from her hood

She explained everything from within

And in sock they were all

Listening to a woman pouring her heart out

Nevertheless they didn't know

That it was her first and last time speaking

As she ended up taking her life

Status by Colour

By Silibaziso Chuka

A lone outsider,

That black insider,

The marked

All because of my skin colour;

My black skin making my natural label,

Which reads





As victim to their violence

Juxtaposition of the inevitable is intangible,

Smiling in a way that mocks my spirit

This delusion is nothing but a pragmatic mechanism of madness.

This severe dislocation of morale and humanity,

These social injustices.....

As history becomes the nightmare from which I am trying to wake,

The present is but a phenomenological disembodiment.

My body they kept but my mind they took.

Somehow they equated my skin colour to failure.

Soligism becoming a requisite to the common

This primordial darkness,

Snatches away fundamentalism,

As in this oculus mad pursuit after their vain and lost battle we suffer;

Alas a spear of sunlight

We are,

For it is but a "status symbol of the first order.

Rebel Woman

By Silibaziso Chuka

Once a victim of violence,

A black woman in exile

An epipitome of mental slavery,

But no more has become her mantra...

Woman of the world she has become,

She walks the world with her cracked bare feet,

Weary and tired in those winter mornings.

As that life of toy grinds up in her;

Fearless woman of the well,

Her people cry

Her history is kept from her children,

As they live for food and food alone.

In the illusion upon this earth she stands;

As she rises like the ashes of a phoenix,

"Daughter of Nehanda",

From the spirited dry bones

Her spirit awakens.

Spirit of Africa rising to conquer the injustices upon her people...

As they try to survive on this planet full of mystery.

Facade with docility,

A gun she holds,

A pen she wields.

Her prowess evolve it has....


By Jurgen Namupira

I simply like it that way,

The torture my thoughts subject me to

That moment when my brains can’t stop.

My processing unit seems to be over speeding.

The idea is good

But timing seems to early.

3 O’clock in the morning,

I wake and sit

Nothing to work on

But mind at work.

I picture the young lady somewhere

Sitting by the seashore,

Her tiny face hid behind the uncombed hair.

With her torn jeans she sits direct on the sand,

Her mind miles apart with her body.

Her soul seems tormented

Only if I could predict…

Armed with curiosity,

My tongue won’t stay still

That is until I understand her story.

Whether it’s worth it,

Or not

No one cares.

My mission, almost impossible

Is to put a smile on her face.

Chit chat and the story goes on,

In a flash she drops a tear

And the next moment they are tears.

Young girl pours out her heart,

“I am young, I have dreams, I have expectations…”

“And the problem is,” I jump in;

Young girl bursts out;

“He is old, ugly, polygamous…”

That is when I understand her trauma,

Young girl is suffering the wrath of rot tradition,

A husband imposed on her

Simply because parents believe she is an asset.

To her the marriage will be a daily torture,

For them it will be a fortune

For he is a rich bastard.

A man of no shame,

Lacking sense in it’s commonness

Finding a wife in her

A girl his son was senior to in school.

Tell me;

What’s wrong with this world,

If all these old madalas enjoy the honey of our generation,

What will be left for us then,

Or do they expect us to then take home a secondhand wife?

So we should wait for their final sleep,

Until then we would to suffer in lust

Longing for their wives who could’ve been ours,

Only if they were not greedy.

No no no,

For me this won’t work.

I can’t see the morale decay prevail,

And they preach Ubuntu

When they can’t control their conjugal thirsts for fresh blood

Enough is enough,

No acrimonious man should temper with the honey of my generation.

Free Spirit

By Jurgen Namupira

She just wants to be alone,

lonely with her own thoughts…

embraced by nature,

wishing she could hug the wind;

whisper into her ears

‘take me with you please’

truth be told,

she’s sick and tired of being sick and tired,

she smiles

she laughs

she shouts

yet she sheds dry tears.

We see them not,

for they are hid behind the mountain of courage,

covered under the cloud of hope.

Here we are today,

praising the visible beauty,

when she’s busy fixing the inner beauty we broke…

the heart has bled,

and emotions have sped into her mind

knocked her down to her knees

but she’s still fighting.

I hope we won’t charge her for locking the world outside,

she needs to heal and pick us one by one

selecting only the worthy vine to produce tasty wine,

one day’s one day

it shall be well for the free spirit,

and she shall sing of the good new days

emanating out of the brutal past.

Thank you for reading.

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(Pages 1-58 show above.)