Feathers of Poetry

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Mama

Mama who art upon the earth

You gave me life, you gave me love

 Let me acknowledge the womb

Where I was conceived

With painful pride

Your presence is a living drama

Living drama of a race

Drama of flesh and blood

You accepted me on your laps

And let me open your womb

The fortune of your birth hood

And let me suckle your breast

Before they became human history

U floated deep seas in stormy

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days

U held your shoulders

 To the Earth’s foundation.

Mother, friend and guider.

Because of you

I am what I am.

Die no more

Let me die, to die no more

Die in an attempt to live forever

My name has been called

Called to die to live eternally

Oh mom, no need to cry

I died flesh and blood

Spiritually my life is guaranteed

Don’t worries be happy

For now I art in heaven

On earth I am miserable

I am going home, to die no more

My death is only my birth began

Remember

Remember Soweto

Bullet in the back days

Remember the dead

And be glad

Let the praise be to them

Rebel’s freedom is their cause

Being dead it does not matter

How guilt or innocent they died

Being dead it does not matter

How well or bad they died

Being dead we should pay them

Pay them Tribute

Because it is for Living they died.

African

I am not coloured

I am neither black

Nor white

I am an African

I, the child of all races

My identity branded in the cry of Mzantsi

In the distant lands of ubuntu

I am proudly

And mysterious African

The porter of all sorrows

I, the rascally child

Die hard like a wild animal

A person associated with the springbok

Without a doubt

That’s what I am about

I, the child of poor African society

Never shall I rest

Rest under the colour hedges,

Black, green and gold

The intense proudly African

The God boiled my blood in a clay pot of passion

To course in my veins

My colour shows it all

My heritage identifies it all.

My music sings it all

I am an African

My dream

When I was young,

 My imagination had no limits

 I often wish I could change the world

But I grew older my wiser

I discovered that the world

Would not change in my last

Desperate attempt I settled

Down for changing only my country

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But it too seemed immovable

And I ask myself

What if I Change myself

Then by example

I might change my family

Their inspiration and encouragement

They might better the country

Who knows even the world?

Never give up

Life of eases difficult pursuit

Along the path of odds

 Fall, but rise every time

Rise as the struggle develop strength

No pessimism no surrender

Be like a Leaf in the wind

 Go at the drift of your

Dreams no matter what it takes, never give up

Through hardship character can be made

Through commitment success can be achieved

We live in the age of hope, trust undying God

Perseverance is the mother of success

Hector Pieterson

He died

When he was young

Full of pride

Full of passion

He was born in adversity

Grew up in oppression

And schooled in struggle

In longing for freedom

Clouds overcast the world

He has gone to a higher life

He was asked to leave

The beloved son of soil

I saw faces of Africans

Tears and sighs, sighs and tears

Expressing absence of their hope

His brothers and sisters left

Hopefully and eagerly

His death it doesn’t matter

It is for freedom he died

His death it doesn’t matter

It is for freedom he died

His death it doesn’t matter

It is for unity he died

His death it doesn’t matter

It is for living he died

Sikelela

In the dark quarters of the world

Neither light nor life

But anxious to live

Dreams are shapeless

In my neighbourhood

I struggle to impress

While others work to suppress

I live in others pockets

Envying my neighbour cooking pots

On my road to nowhere

I met the poor little boy

I counted Ribs on his chest

 His stomach is a den of lions

 Roaring day and night

 People are starving

Why are we so lamented?

How long would we be tormented

Light the candles right now

As the symbolic flame of love

For those Infected and affected

By HIV and aids

Chaos is walking the land

People are being used

Things are being loved

Our birth is only our death begun

Views: 19

Enjoyable

Cassandra Parker

Friday 2nd of October 2020 10:09:53 PM

I enjoyed this. The writing evokes visual images. Nice.

Nice

Jinang Dangkat

Wednesday 30th of September 2020 11:11:39 PM

WOW! This is incredible.

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William Dawson

Writer and Reader user