The Old Man and I

By Tendy Kay

The wind blew hard,

Cars swooshed past;

Bicycles, people, swayed faster,

And he stared.

As we walked along,

The old man with the bristly hair,

Yellow but fair,

He stared;

At me…?

In shock at first;

Soon he realized,

I was real,

Just very dark,

Darker than him,

And so, he stared.

We walked side by side,

Slow, sometimes fast;

Wrinkling the cold kissed skin,

His neck motioned,

Sideways, sideways,

His eyes squinted open,

The old man,

He,

Pretended not to see me.

But together, we

Snuck looks;

One of wonder,

The other of disbelief,

Is he serious?

Can he be mad?

What is he looking at?

I need to pull up my leggings?

Damn, what is it, he wants?

He just keeps looking…

Once in a while;

He gazes,

Into the distance ahead,

His patched coat from winters gone.

Up, up, he climbs the steps faster;

Only to stop, and look down,

One long hard look,

She backs away, irate!

He sighs, unconvinced,

Scoffs almost,

Holding on to his plastic bag;

Chow mien,

He mumbles on…

Past the high buildings,

With all the lights beaming,

Onto the muddy streets,

We walked;

His back, stooped,

Stealing glances,

In acquaintance now,

Connected.

He now understands a truth,

He knows, he has seen,

This person…

Black but with hair;

Just like his wife’s,

She is not bad looking at all,

In fact…

But just look…

And so he stared,

One more time,

And to the crowd she was lost.

Swinging by Kate Wolf

Swinging: Should I stay or should I go?

I never thought I’d be here in forever. In fact, I wasn’t even sure I’d be here as long as I’ve been. My arrival was a conflict of acute appreciation of calm with tremendous trepidation about the depth of the quiet. Now, the wonderment of newness has been left far behind as I examine the space around me.

Rats in the Race by Qodebreaker

Maybe this is a rant, maybe I am just tired of running and running. They said I should excel in primary school so that I go to secondary school and then I get to college. They said I should finish college so I get a job.

As We Swing by Andrew K

Deep into my inner provocative mind boggling mind circles
Enclosed into my small dark imaginative vacuums
Then a flash hits my mind
As the smell of violets and petals flood the space

Tomato Attack by Acacia

Tomatoes. The frozen kind. Red hard cricket balls, expertly bowled towards me… as I carefully protect my wicket, dive desperately around the goal posts, keep my gloves up – swinging, guarding my face.

Time and Motion by Nicky Ndovi

My earliest memories……

The sun shimmers on my skin, my hair blows lazily in the summer breeze. I lurk at the bottom of the garden; my fingernails and knuckles pitted with the dark earth, as I lazily dig for and examine earthworms, and other interesting things that await discovery.

To My Wife by Kada Phiri

The celebrations are over and all have departed to their home,
They dances, drank and ate till they left empty domes,
The journey of our lives has begun,
The union of our families extends to our clans

Moon Swings by Cherry Nicely

Don’t.
Talk to me.
You irritate me
Your voice, your smile, your patronizing understanding…
Don’t touch me
Actually you disgust me

Elpin’s Embrace by Cherry Nicely

You were dancing, waiting for this to be over
Sitting in class for another hour
Butterfly wings graze finger tips
The first time we kissed I came alive without thought
A moment of stillness
Tickling
Wordlessly against my ribs

Paved with Gold by NN

The Streets are Paved with Gold

My eyes see a flash of gold. In my mind I equate this glistening color with wealth, although in truth money, cash, ndalama, comes in many colours, shapes and sizes. Money, money, money!

Coins are pressed into my palms, some cold and hard and shiny, others warm and worn. Notes can be crisp and new or else crumpled and dirty, the lingering fragrance of the hands, pockets and wallets of the many different people that they have temporarily belonged to remaining like a scented legacy.

... Less (Hope) by Tendy K

My glass is half empty,
My insecurities are quite full;
Overflowing the brim,
I can feel the pressure of an overdose.

My confidence is bipolar,
It cannot decide whether we are up or down.
Swings in all sorts of directions,
It sees things that cannot be heard.

The Ideal Week by Acacia

A crazy civil servant called for litter-bins in minibuses, if only clean streets were that easy. It was Monday morning; Acacia drank her coffee, listened to the radio and smirked at such naivety.

Admittedly, she had had a few crazy ideas of her own. There was a photo of a smiling younger woman holding a banner, protesting outside the houses of parliament in London.

The Song by Cherry Nicely

Once upon a time there was a land of joy ruled by a wise king where love grew on trees and yielded generous fruit everyday such that the people were always happy and singing. One of the rulers of a neighboring kingdom was a vain, selfish and jealous man. Though they didn’t complain in his hearing, the king knew his subjects secretly envied their happy neighbors. His secret police told him some were inter-marrying and others processing visas to emigrate to that land.

Our time has been brief by Limbika

Our time has been brief, but it cannot be over

Even though our time has been brief, you have moved me.
There is an undeniable connection between us, one that few can ever hope to find.
A platonic friendship, with ambitions.
Sexual tension, without sex.
We can share a moment, an experience, a bed,
Without any discomfort and without sex.
We share hopes, the same ones.

Godslayer by Qodebreaker

My name could be God-slayer. I have slain God twice, figuratively. If it was literally I would have to find Him first and produce his mortal remains.

I have renounced his existence twice in my life. I looked into the heavens and declared him non-existent or impotent and dared him to show up to prove me wrong. And apprehensively I waited for a dark cloud tinged with angry purple lightening serpents. I checked the ground beneath lest I miss the suddenly yawning earth about to swallow up my foolish self.

Round by Otumidwa

Life today is like looking at a carousel
up goes one little horse, down comes another,
nausea still lingering on from the first trimester
as I focus on the motion
of generations past, present and future
in turn experiencing the mystery
of two people sharing one body

Round by KW

It’s a dance, what we do, that takes us round and round in circles. Sometimes your left foot moves back and my right forward together in time with the rhythm. Other times, we each stamp out the beat of our own melodies which swirl rapidly in concentric circles that often bump headlong into one another before vibrating off to opposite ends.

It’s a crowded dance floor, where we are, but I can always feel your pulse through the other paces wrapping around me in time with the music. We coil, we curl, we curve around the hurdles strewn haphazardly throughout, never forgetting the sound reverberating through our skin.

Me, Myself and Us by Acacia

If we’re ever talking… and some guy reaches for my leg… and eyes glaze over, I stop mid-sentence… shoot me! Remember the last time you were the third wheel. Were they fondling and fawning, and playing with each others hair? Did they touch cheeks, stroke arms and distract each other from the conversation? A bit inconsiderate, a tad antisocial?

Memories from the Shadows by AK

Listening to the glittering hymns from the birds
Across the captivating blue sight
Welcoming the yawning waves and bubbles
Like a twinkling light in the morning sand it mirrors and flickers afar,
Too far to appreciate the aftermath of climatic change
Stumbles, rumbles, mumbles roll round aloud, too loud to hear
All is but in the reflection and meditation of humanity

Round by Ntawira

I can see the world flashing before my eyes, but really it’s only a blur, a multi-coloured blur. There are what appears to be thousands of bright lights flashing and dancing. Although, I am not too sure that the lights are everywhere. Is it just that I am that disorientated to the point that I think they are?

I am holding on for dear life, but I think I’m losing my grip as my hands get sweatier and sweatier. They are one of the only things I can see that are in focus, and my knuckles are white. Probably matching my face, that can only be showing absolute fear. I can feel my stomach churning, and the feeling is getting worse.

Round the Blue by Qodebreaker

I don’t know how long I had been standing there staring into the distance. I had heard that they could be unpredictable sometimes. It must have been hours since I threw the letter written with my own blood into the bottomless pit at the bottom of Kamuleka Falls.

I needed one of them to show up, so they could stop the world. Then I would get off.

Where would I go? I don’t know. I was just hoping they would rip the fabric of time and hurl me into some alternate universe. Where I could be a blue mango and get eaten by a hungry double headed Mokocha Giraffe. Or maybe I would be one breast of a Muse in some mythical Greek city.

POWER by Otumidwa

An Ode to my Husband
Your life is filled with Power. In '72 its abuse was the cause of your forced exile, when you were just a thought in your mother's heart, and at the same time that was the sharpening tool that filed down your weaknesses and ignited in you a spark of resilience.

Mtima Tradeoffs by Acacia

Mr. Mtima lived in a world of milk and honey and complete self-knowledge. In his world, everyone knew what they wanted and placed exactly the right amount of value on getting it. For example, he wanted a promotion, and day after day he jumped through hoops for his boss.

POWER by Z. Allan Ntata

Freud argued that sex is the primary drive and the primal instinct in all living things. A very simplistic view of the Freudian argument is that achievements are essentially driven by the desire to win mates,

Power / Dreams by Jim Wild

Danny doesn't seem to have a lot of recurring dreams these days (these nights). He used to have a lot more. There was one, not so long ago and quite regularly, in which he was supposed to be taking an exam, or simply graduating from a class (to Dan’s surprise, Freud had talked about this one), usually a maths class, only to realise that he hadn't attended the requisite number of lessons to qualify, and so he'd have to do it all again if he ever wanted to be a writer, or get a degree, or finish high school, or whatever.

No guts, no glory by Acacia

I rallied the girls. A friend of a friend was launching his project somewhere in area three... should be good maybe interesting. First disappointment – no booze. Secondly, it was full of young, enthusiastic, teetotallers – us alcoholic grannies didn’t know anyone. Thirdly, since when was spirituality a requirement for humanitarian interest?

Space on Trip by Tendy Kay

The room spinning
My temperature constricted in one valve about to POP!
Eyes doubled in size
Am sure I hit the light switch
Was it off or on?

SPACE by Qodebreaker

Hungry, thirsty faces. Pale, weeping, hollow, needy begging. Stretched limbs echoing the need, they beckon.

She sees them, waves and waves of faces, outstreched arms and rigid phalluses. A sea of humanity all longing for some connection.

"Validate me, Love me, notice me, respond to me, befriend me, give to me, screw me!" And many other voices cry, shout, whisper in the cacophony.

Rebound by Z. Allan Ntata

It has a feel good factor comparable almost to that of watching the misfortune of an enemy. After a disastrous relationship that leaves us devastated, we quickly find re-assurance in the new found affection of someone who makes us feel that we are not failures after all, we are not unlovable. The problem was with the other guy!

Now What by Tendy Kay

So you left in huff,
All sorts of excuses in a bag,
More like a cargo box, because all that stuff was heavy,
I should know, you left me to muse about it,
Okay, so am over it, now what?

The next guy he is so so!
He does not sell like a promo,
Am bored when he calls,
Fall asleep when writes,
I think he is so feminine; he could be a homo,

Rebound by Ntawira

As I look into your eyes, and you look into mine, I have no choice but to look away.
I feel embarrassed; I am ashamed of my own feelings, made worse by the knowledge that I am just your rebound.
I would love to dream that we have a future together, and dream that one day you will love me, but I know that I am just your rebound.
You have good intentions, you check me out, and really, you think that I'm quite nice; you don't even realize that I am just your rebound.

REBOUND by Qodebreaker

In the golden valley where lay Nerfetiti, Tutankhamun, Ramses I and Seti II, in collosal wedges pointing to the sky. In the land of the fertile Nile under the eye of Ra, there I walked.

A pharaoh young and powerful. At my word people were raised or humbled. There I built palaces befitting my glory and power.

I was a god among mortals. I was like the child of Horus, the blood of Amun.
But irony is a cruel queen of fate. From the Nile's fertility came an insect so small, its fecund bloodthirsty kiss was the Osiris' kiss of death. In fits of fevers my life expired.

LWC