TENDAI MWANAKA- POETRY

 VOICES FROM EXILE, a collection of poetry on
Zimbabwe’s political situation and exile in South Africa was published
by Lapwing publications, Northern Ireland in 2010. KEYS IN THE RIVER: Notes from a
Modern Chimurenga, a novel of interlinked stories that deals with life in
modern day Zimbabwe’s soul was published by Savant books and publications, USA
2012. A book of creative non-fiction pieces, ZIMBABWE: THE BLAME GAME,
was published by Langaa RPCIG( Cameroon 2013) I
was nominated for the Pushcart twice, 2008, 2010, commended for the Dalro prize
2008, work has been translated into French and Spanish. I was nominated and
attended The Caine African writing workshop, 2012. From January- April 2014, I was a Mentor for 3 budding writers in CACE Africa Writivism. Published over  250
pieces of short stories, essays, memoirs,
poems and photographic/visual art in over 150 magazines, journals, and
anthologies in the following countries,  the USA , UK , Canada ,
South Africa, Zimbabwe, India , Mexico, Kenya, Cameroon, Italy ,
Ghana, Uganda, France , Zambia, Nigeria, Spain , Romania, Cyprus,
Australia and New Zealand. 

TENDAI MWANAKA

THE LATEST

Aftermaths of

garbage tossed about, sewage rotting.

Dirty water, empty stomachs,

empty lives, empty beings.

This garden is

a history of

thousands of them.

Political loose canons

living in the exclusive suburbs.

But in the dusty, populated

Budiriro's streets

Crammed thoughts like bombs are

waiting to explode- 

 

THIS ART OF SUPPRESSION

Now the windows and doors

 are closed

  in the tea-pot shaped country.

    But the battle still rages on.

     And the frames are shadowed

        by a shell that speaks of death.

        A sort of lofty remembrance

       in my mind

      paints tiny flitting layers of

    experience diluting limitation.

   Pushing my awareness

into some sort of epiphany.

     But can I see, can I smell

   with my eye, with my nose

 the blood in those battlefields

seemingly so clean of blood?

So finely crafted

this art of suppression

is a work of art!

No outside ear can hear

 the thundering guns

  flashing knives.

   Sounds of henchmen

     championing a killing!

Could I sense their obvious pain

  their valleys of tears, their cries

    their grief-strung hearts

      their endless miseries

        the path of self destruction

          they are now set on?

FATED

This people remains downtrodden

in their hungers, the emptiness-

of their lives.

In their victim's posture!

They scrounge for food in the streets.

Their children are in the streets.

Their women have chosen

a moonlight career.

There is no retirement for this people

like a dappled spider

in the specks of its own webs.

There is no rest for this people.

calling for you

 

 

"everyday that we live

we throw pebbles into the pool

and the pebbles create ripples

someday the ripples would meet."

 

you say you are leaving me today.

we are sixteen, young and immature. coz in our hearts we know we have to let go. in my heart i know, i can’t let you go. in your heart you know, we never meant to be. in our hearts we know, we have to marry others

 

this is our safety net

that someday

i would come for you

 

can i glimpse the map that’s sending you away. can i feel the

price you are paying now. can’t delay you, to help me escape. our hearts touches the pure silence between us. could only think of you, on and off over the years. she left me after thirty years. i knew it was time to call for you

 

goggled your name on the net, the rest is history. left Phoenix Arizona for Toowoomba Australia. mailed out my love to the address of your heart. Rod Stewart says the first cut is the deepest and i believe its true, that we belong together

 

this is my heart's call

that today

that’s calling for you

at all times respect your heart's potential by following your path through your heart. step strongly into your eternal sunset. for a push can bring us out of our calling in a lifetime contrived by time. but the mountain is calling us to its peak again and our calling becomes another calling. another calling, and another calling...

TO AGONY OF DEATH

Constantly being aware

Of the consequences of

Our beings, the souls

Of my people.

And creatures

Of that old cold hunt

Lost and concealed

Lessons lost too.

The first thirst of

Desperation

Is a moat of agony?

That disturbs the mind

It is a thirst

At the edges of the sea

And all time chimes

To this call

Impaled on a thorn of

Chance or something

To experience for itself.

LOVE

He wanted to believe you.

Love is this way-

Isn’t it, impossible?