Seasons of Zimbabwe
The country newly-born, we were younger still
Jacaranda blossoms paved the stone under our feet
We drank the bittersweet coffee of the Chipinge hills
By the roadside in the glow of Independence
As we explored the central park's every hidden corner
The miniature Victoria Falls, the botanical treasures
And the open-air soapstone sculpture displays
You told me tipsy tales of Mzilikazi
We rode the flying bus down to the old Zimbabwe
And walked among the peaceful ruined walls
As peacocks strolled insoucient in the gardens
We climbed the fortress to view the rolling plains
The corn was white and tall the month we married
In an improvised bare office filled with laughter
Animals graced the hills above our reception
Music drifted to the border with Botswana
We made love in the wedding suite, high above the city
Embelished by the gentle blues of Cape China
With joy I entered you as your husband
And sunrise filled our window with its glory
Today we're not so young, Zimbabwe is much older
Its splendour is revisiting its ruins
In Namibia's childhood you were lost, your sweetness
Is held only by the warm earth of Mochudi now.
For we have all been claimed by our addictions
The richest topsoil worn down into powder
Dreams of liberation have been stolen
And seasons of young love are past their flower.
poem by Frank Bana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Zimbabwe frightened you
Zimbabwe frightened you,
Zimbabwe where we could be alone
and in a way I felt at home.
The dark black faces,
the savagery, hunger
and wretched poverty
were more than you could take.
You panicked thinking
that the unruly young teenagers
and so-called war veterans
would not just drive
the farmers away,
but were sharpening
their Panga-blades
even for white tourists.
Everywhere you looked,
you saw death, destruction
and black rule taking its toll
and the ever hungry
begging people
was like a prophecy
of what in the future
may be waiting for us
at home.
Visiting the places
we had dreamed of,
the Zimbabwe ruins,
Mana pools, Kariba lake
and the Victoria falls
was like a nightmare to you.
Even the African art carvings
of people and animals
and rural paintings
of the Ndebele people
hardly caught your eye
and you would rather die
than stay a day longer.
African dancers screaming
around a fire
and dancing like shadows
on the beat
of ancient drums
drove the fear home,
so that you wanted to get into the car.
[References: To Minette, of whom there is just memories. You Hated Spain by Ted Hughes.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
North - South Road
Two-lane blacktop in the night
Breeze across the plains
Are there parades of beacons
On the low hills of Mochudi
Or stars with blinking eyes
Marking the quiet graves
Of those who died so young and fine?
Be careful, little child
Listen to the cowbells low
As the white relief trucks pass
Step back to the thorn trees
For sleepers hold the wheel -
Stand back from the tarmac-side!
Are those the sounds of Kwela
From the bars of Mahalapye
Refugees and swallows
Asleep in Francistown?
Are those human echoes
From pitiless Zimbabwe?
Asks Motsumi from his solitary
Rondavel in Maun.
Kudu leap the ribbon
A soda-can procession
Lines the roadside
Glares in moonlight
Winks up to the satellite
The North road leads to Cairo
The South road to the Cape
So I hear returning travellers tell
I am just a builder
On the midnight shoulder
And I am standing very still
Still between the headlights passing
Cricket melody unceasing
Is that the Marula fruit
Raining from the trees?
Don't walk the narrow line, my child
Too far with burning feet
In case your life becomes condemned
And never finds its peace.
poem by Frank Bana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Consolation
How great it is not to be going
to Zimbabwe this summer
not having to go through
a packed border post,
the ruins that’s left of her cities,
or visiting friends on their farms,
since they have all being driven away.
No need to hunt for petrol
from fuel station to fuel station,
no need to find your way
through a crowd of hungry children
and no need to feel guilty
because you have food
and a car and a place called home.
There’s no Victoria falls here,
no Zimbabwe ruins built from rock,
no Kariba lake to live in a boat on,
no great Zambezi to white river raft on
and no need to be afraid
because you are white.
How much better to take the familiar highway
past Durban down to Margate
or to go somewhere on the South coast
and not to study outdated maps
of the unknown to find a place
called Mana pools
on a dirt track
in the middle of the veldt.
How much better to eat in great
familiar restaurants,
that does not charge in US dollars
and to holiday
right next to the big blue ocean
and to tan on a choice of beaches.
Robert Mugabe can have his whole damn country,
even if he’s not the chosen leader
as long as he keeps
his population there,
but everywhere I look
there’s Zimbabwean aliens appearing
out of the blue
and even on a lovely beach
a Zimbabwean girl
swims in panties and a bra
or walks without any.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Happy Birthday Love
For my wife who is -? Today
Today is your birthday
and you are telling everyone
that you are twenty-one years young.
The children don’t believe it
as it makes you younger that them.
When you tell them they say,
“In your dreams, mum.”
However, having said that
you are twenty-one to me
still filled with love and vitality.
We’re still young as when we fell in love
and today is your birthday.
You are sure to have a good one
surrounded by friends and family.
That is all I have to say except
Happy Birthday Love,
have a wonderful day.
Your loving husband David,
the one born down on the funny farm.
8 March 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dreams of Africa
There are days I dream of Africa
and my life as a child there
where running through the wild bush
was a joy beyond compare
Never a thought was given
to the animals who may be close
I loved them all and a big baboon
was one that I loved most
I travelled to the great Zimbabwe ruins
and walked within their walls
Thinking how it must have been
for people who were tall
I've stood in the rainforest's at Victoria Falls
one of the most magnificent sites to see
And the memory still makes me sad
for what has come to be
Bodies dead and suffering
murders cruel and wrong
people starving from prices so high
all sing the freedom song
Yes I miss good old Rhodesia
and Africa as a child
I miss seeing nature at it's best
free to roam the wild
I pray that one day very soon
life will start to come good
and God will shine his precious light
the way I know he should
poem by Janice M Pickett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hollywood Nights
Words and music by bob seger
She stood there bright as the sun on that california coast
He was a midwestern boy on his own
She looked at him with those soft eyes,
So innocent and blue
He knew right then he was too far from home he was too far from home
She took his hand and she led him along that golden beach
They watched the waves tumble over the sand
They drove for miles and miles
Up those twisting turning roads
Higher and higher and higher they climbed
And those hollywood nights
In those hollywood hills
She was looking so right
In her diamonds and frills
All those big city nights
In those high rolling hills
Above all the lights
She had all of the skills
Hed headed west cause he felt that a change
Would do him good
See some old friends, good for the soul
She had been born with a face that would her
Get her way
He saw that face and he lost all control
He had lost all control
Night after night, day after day, it went on and on
Then came that morning he woke up alone
He spent all night staring down at the lights of la
Wondering if he could ever go home
And those hollywood nights
In those hollywood hills
It was looking so right
It was giving him chills
In those big city nights
In those high rolling hills
Above all the lights
With a passion that kills
In those hollywood nights
In those hollywood hills
She was looking so right
In her diamonds and frills
All those big city nights
In those high rolling hills
Above all the lights
She had all of the skills
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I'm Very Young Today
I drank the sky, the summer sky
And watched the orchestrated trees
Symphony with woodwind breeze
And 'Lovin' Spoonful' on the radio
In long grass where I lay
As children's laughter narrates this play
I'm very young today
I'm very young today..
Your strawberry lips with a forever kiss
As I slumbered to a faraway shore
Setting sun takes pictures for the memory
That the wind alone will store
And Dylan on the radio
On white sand 'Lay Lady Lay'
I'm very young today
I'm very young today.
And now after all these years, time pushed you away
Love burns bright within me, just to find you in the dark
Dreams just lend me moments
Stargazing in the park
I never held you tight enough
But would have crushed you like a flower.
Yet when your hand stroked my cheek
- I wasn't tough
God give us one more hour
And Beach Boys on the radio
I close my eyes and sway
I'm very old today
I'm very old today.
poem by Kevin East
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
No Rescue
Civil war:
Again you are visiting
the childhood.A green pond.
Smoke filled eyes ask, what
was a home?
A black city of white hills.
You were climbing on dreams
to reach a baby moon.
And the night
was very long, like a bad name
you cannot spell.
The anthills, fireflies and
snakes. You are still lost
in cobwebbed age.
Pawned:
After books there were no other
tales.
poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Unseen City
Not far away does that bright city stand,
'Tis but the mist o'er its dividing stream,
That wraps the glory of its glitt'ring strand,
Its radiant skies, and mountains silvery gleam;
Oh, often in the blindness of our fate
We wander very near the city's gate.
We love that unseen city, and we yearn
Ever within our earthly homes to see
Its golden towers, that in the sunset burn,
Its white walls rising from the quiet sea;
Its mansions gleaming with immortal glow,
Filled with the treasure lost to us below.
Yes, dear ones that we loved and lost are there;
Bright in that fair clime beam those sweet eyes now;
Fanned by its soft breeze floats the shining hair,
Hair we have smoothed back from the gentlest brow;
Softest white hands we kissed and clasped in ours
Slipped from our grasp, lured by its glowing flowers.
Fairer it seems, its velvet walks were sweet,
Dearer its quiet streets, with gold paved o'er,
Since o'er them lightly fall the little feet--
The light feet bounding through our homes no more;
Oh, heart's dear music, tearfully missed,
That city's filled with melody like this.
It is not far away; down from its arches roll
Anthems too sacred for the outward ear,
Pouring their haunting sweetness on the soul;
Oh, how our waiting spirits thrill to hear,
In listening to the low bewildering strain,
Voices they said we should not hear again.
Oh, dear to us that city. He is there,
He whom unseen we love; no need of light;
His tender eyes illume the crystal air
Where His beloved walk in vesture white,
What though on earth they wandered, poor, distressed,
And saw through tears His glory, now they rest.
Oh, that fair city, shining o'er the tide,
Thither we journey through the storm and night;
But soon shall we adown its still bay glide,
Soon will the city's gate gleam on our sight,
There with our own forever shall we be,
In that fair city rising from the sea.
poem by Marietta Holley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Days Filled With Colour
Days fill with colour
As the dawn breaks on another day
Clear skys, not a cloud in the sky
Vibrant blue skys
Warmth fills the air from a winter sun
A gleaming shape floats by
Colours catch my eye
Parrots all the colours of a rainbow
Chatting all day about whatever
Maybe it is laughter
Happiness
Freedom in the winter skys
Parrots all the colours of a rainbow
Vibrant blue skys, fill my day
Colours of winter in the country
Hills filled with colour
Green hills soon to be colourful crops
Winter storms colour the hills with ice
Warm air from a winter sun
Colours your day
I see things differently now
No city skys filled with doom and gloom
No buildings cramped into one corner
Open spaces, trees, all filled with colour
Fill my day with happiness
Now I take the time to listen to nature
My heart is crammed with excitement
Everything now a new experience
Colourful parrots
Vibrant blue skys
The warmth of the sun
poem by Batibchar Mocculta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
House Carpenter
Well met, well met, my own true love
Well met, well met, cried she
Ive just returned from the salt, salt sea
And its all for the love of thee
I could have married a kings daughter there
She would have married me
But I have forsaken my kings daughter there
Its all for the love of thee
Well, if you could have married a kings daughter there
Im sure youre the one to blame
For I am married to a house carpenter
And Im sure hes a fine young man
Forsake, forsake your house carpenter
And come away with me
Ill take you where the green grass grows
On the shores of sunny italy
So up she picked her babies three
And gave them kisses, one, two, three
Saying take good care of your daddy while Im gone
And keep him good company.
Well, they were sailin about two weeks
Im sure it was not three
When the younger of the girls, she came on deck
Sayin she wants company
Well, are you weepin for your house and home?
Or are you weepin for your babies three?
Well, Im not weepin for my house carpenter
Im weepin for my babies three.
Oh what are those hills yonder, my love
They look as white as snow
Those are the hill of heaven, my love
You and Ill never know
Oh what are those hills yonder, my love
They look as dark as night
Those are the hills of hell-fire my love
Where you and I will unite
Oh twice around went the gallant ship
Im sure it was not three
When the ship all of a sudden, it sprung a leak
And it drifted to the bottom of the sea
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Mellow Mood of Christmas
The mellow mood of Christmas
Soft music and thoughts of you
Thrill me through and through.
I relive childhood dreams filled
With laughter and candy canes
An orange, a few nuts and one apple
Just simple little things...
There's not much money this year,
Mama said tucking us all in bed...
Her smile was warm like a gentle kiss
And we didn't miss the flashy
Red wagon or the crying doll
We thought we had it all...
And we did,
Oh yes we did.
It was Christmas in a house filled
With love and music and
Those peppermint candy canes,
Home made cookies, and
Made up games...and
So much love!
12-23,2009 (written)
11: 43-11: 47 p.m.
Dorothy Alves Holmes
poem by Dorothy Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Patterns Of Herringbone
Step out along those well worn pathways,
through dappled woods, beneath lush trees.
View verdant grass as it gently sways,
wafted by a soft balmy breeze.
Tread blithely down well known byways,
over winding hills and flowing streams.
Out across the salty golden bays,
where the sand is kissed by bold sunbeams.
Move slowly through well paved alleyways,
between the old walls of brick and stone.
Knowing that people back in past days,
walked these block patterns of herringbone.
Stroll towards well hidden bridleways,
where wild flowers edge the gritted tracks.
Stand still and watch the sheep as they graze,
then take a nap, against warm haystacks.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Usa
When I was young
I watched the cars
When I was older
I drank in bars
When I was young
I chewed the leaves
When I was older
I drank with thieves
I found a love
She gave me dreams
She left me drunk
In new orleans
So cold and lonely
So all alone
I wished my heart
Was made of stone
I took the cold bright needle
I used it as a sword
My eyes have seen the glory of
The coming of the lord
I burned across the delta
I swam across the ford
My eyes have seen the glory of
The coming of the lord
When I was a young man
Standing on this road
My empty belly
An aching hole
An old man said to me
Kid dont you know
That its the same
Wherever you go
I gambled in two graveyards
I won against the odds
With the smiling saints
And the silent saviours
With the maggots and the gods
I cursed the things they showed me
I could never see again
And the howling of the wind at night
I wrote upon the rain
I found the thing
For which I prayed
And came back home
To the usa
With a heart of stone
And now I know
That its the same
Wherever you go
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Golden Yesterday
AFTER a spell of chill, grey weather,
(Green, O green, are the feet of Spring!)
The heaven is here of flower and feather,
Of wild red blossom and flashing wing.
Hither of old queer flotsam drifted,
Borne on the breast of an age-old stream —
Men and women, with hope uplifted,
Spurred and stirred by a splendid dream.
Hither they quested, the young and eager,
The social misfit, the aged, the banned;
Friends were lacking and fortune meagre,
And here was promise — the Promised Land.
Each had a goal, a star, a beacon —
A good-bye smile, or a soft love-trees —
To urge his feet lest his feet should weaken,
Drag and falter with weariness.
Love and honour, and mirth and pity —
The joy that brightens, the gloom that chills —
Dwelt at once in the tented city,
Set of old in these watching hills.
The birds aroused them with matin numbers;
The air was scented with waking flowers;
They woke renewed from their starlit slumbers,
They toiled, dream-warmed, through the sunlit hours.
They had their triumphs, their gains, their losses,
Their noons of laughter, their nights of care.
Back on the hills are some rough crosses —
A name . . .a date . . .and, perchance, a prayer.
It seems like a dream that flashed and flitted,
That reigned a moment and passed away,
And only the earth — its kind face pitted —
Tells the tale of that old, dead day.
They dug the clay, and they broke the boulders;
They turned the creek, and they washed the mould;
But vain as makers, and vain as moulders,
They lived and wrought in the age of Gold.
They worked and worried, their labour blotching
The land's green surface with scar and pit;
Yet, all around them the hills were watching
Flower-crowned, tree-crested and glory-lit.
Like time-worn sages the green hills waited —
Clouds round their foreheads, their hips in grass;
They knew that the man at their feet was fated,
That he and the work of his hands would pass.
A breeze comes down from the highlands, smoothing
The green young wheat, and a bird makes mirth,
And Spring is here, with her soft hands soothing
The ruined rocks and the wounded earth.
The diggers passed: and the last red embers
Of their night-fires they are ashen grey;
But, while hearts beat and the mind remembers,
They shall not fade as a dream away.
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Snow wedding in jo'burg
No! Radio wedding in Jo'burg on a snowy day
There is a snow in Jo'burg
And there is love in the air
A silent heart to heart conversation in a studio
no one can hear it except lovers
Love have found its place in their hearts
And there is happiness in their faces
Wedding takes years and months to plan
Yours done and planned in three hours
A dress, pastor and flowers
Sending invitation cards didn't happen
People just came, who can remain out
When every body wants to witness the 'Miracle wedding'
Wedding in the radio on snowy day!
Jo'burg stood still and listened
Out there snow is showering the city
City cleaning her eyes to witness.
The city is wearing a white blanket like a bride
In here the bride is wearing a white dress like a snow
And the groom is showing us his white teeth
All is white! This wedding is holy
But weddings take place in halls or private lodges
Yours took place in a radio studio
Decoration on its take three hours
The oaths, vows and pledges in our mist
Vows are flying like birds
Monique and Rui? 'I therefore pronounce you husband and wife'
A couple not single, live together like Dove.
Born as a couple. Couple born like doves
All done, well done Martin and the team
Your show is what grass is, to animals!
All done and well done Jacaranda FM
You are the best and you are still the best
Like a water to a fish
poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Hills That Surround A City
There are hills that surround a city,
I do not know if everyone loves these hills as I do,
From a child to an adult, I traveled the roads of these hills,
Through all seasons these hills are inviting, to a city dweller,
There are hills that surround a city,
In summer these hills can be dangerous,
Bush fires, the enemy of all,
But a friend at times,
Trees and plants re-shoot after bush fires,
Foe to animals and residents,
Cool nights, bring summer breezes to these hills,
Autumn colours surround the hills,
And bring the city dweller to visit,
Colours line the ever winding roadways,
Magical colours along the roadways,
Breathtaking trees, so tall,
Falling leaves line the winding roadways,
Around the hills that surround a city,
Log fires creating smoke from chimneys, dot the landscapes,
During winter,
Winter rains flushes the creeks and rivers,
Throughout the hills that surround a city,
Frosts, fog create an old world atmosphere,
Don't forget your scarf, beanie's, or gloves,
It is cold in these hills,
Spring, the hills are coming alive,
Magical gardens, on display,
Watch for the colourful birds, that come alive,
There is still a chill in the air,
Grab a bit of sunshine, feel the warmth,
There is another world in these hills,
A historical world, for those who wish to visit,
The Adelaide hills surround the city,
Many abandon the city, for the day,
Or a weekend retreat,
The many winding roads amongst the Adelaide hills,
Will take you many places,
I have traveled these roads all my life,
Now I am finding many new roads to travel,
Around these hills that surround a city.
poem by Batibchar Mocculta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Innocence was stolen
You stolen my innocence
As a young child
The painful memories
Filled my childhood with
Tears, hurt, and pain
The unbearable pain
The hurt
You put me though
You lost nothing
You gain power
I lose my innocence
Lost my life
Lost my happiness
Gain nothing but pain
My childhood forgotten
My childhood lost
My childhood stolen by a man
that was my moms friend
You voilatd me
You molesed me
More then I can count on my hands and feet
You took the innocents out of the child
And left pain
poem by Tiffany Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Time Is Not Our Cage (Gabry Ponte Power Cut)
We are flying
and we're flying high till the end
We are men without an age
Time is not out cage
and forever we go on
We are flying
and we're flying high till the end
We are men without an age
Time is not out cage
Born to be forever young
Children of eternity
Always searching for a faster race
Defeating what time wants to be
There's no king
In this place
Like a star that belongs to the sky
And the times are our names in your mind
Our souls are the wings as we fly
Against time
We are flying
and we're flying high till the end
We are men without an age
Time is not out cage
and forever we go on
We are flying
and we're flying high till the end
We are men without an age
Time is not out cage
Born to be forever young
Just like an old song that's playing a tune
That revives what seems lost in the past
With dignity fighting for whom
In a way
Wants to last
Like a friendship of 10 years ago
That is frozen inside of a picture
That tomorrow can cancel and go
Against time
We are flying
and we're flying high till the end
We are men without an age
Time is not out cage
and forever we go on
We are flying
and we're flying high till the end
We are men without an age
Time is not out cage
born to be forever young
Free as a soul is
Far beyond all the boundries of time
Its you mark that lives on
We are flying
and we're flying high till the end
We are men without an age
Time is not out cage
and forever we go on
We are flying
and we're flying high till the end
We are men without an age
Time is not out cage
born to be forever young
song performed by by Eiffel 65
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A House of Memories
Four generations of my family have lived in that house,
everytime I pass it fresh memories are aroused.
It was once filled with laughter, music and conversation,
now there’s only creaking floors and insect habitation.
My younger sister and brother were born in the master bedroom
and their cries are in my memories as they left mum’s womb.
With the midwife shouting for more hot water and towels,
and dad pacing the floor listening for the new baby’s howl.
The happy times ended when sis fell from her bedroom window,
we all blamed ourselves and for years we suffered in sorrow.
Mum and dad spoke as if she was still about the house each day;
to them reality had died and their sadness was hidden away.
Soon after my older brother went to war at the age of eighteen,
he was captured by the enemy and never again seen.
My granddad was killed whilst working underneath his car,
the jack gave way and he wasn’t missed for over an hour.
My young brother was an adventurer and explored the garden well,
the rope snapped and he drowned, it must’ve been hell.
Mum and dad had so much pain and distress locked inside,
they said nothing could stop their misery except suicide.
A week or so later, the morning began unlike any other day,
the master bedroom was quiet in an odd sort of way.
My twin sister and I had this feeling of gloom and despair
we broke down and cried before we got upstairs.
We entered the master bedroom and saw mum and dad,
in each others arms, no longer looking sad.
And now there’s just my darling sister and me,
who daily live with our childhood memories.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!