Literacy Joint Projects
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She Left When the Grass Was Wet
Spirit of the early hour Struck the solace of the silence Transforming her blood and flesh Warm, tepid, cold I cannot reach through heavenly realms An asymptote to life She left when the grass was wet Comforters offer doting words Or meals cooked with love Stomach greets with groaning hunger But a nauseous heart protests My smile mirrors theirs - Mechanical In freeze frame - they are far away She left when the grass was wet A Leaden heart lodged in esophagus Breath is fractured by the weighty load Bereft of speech I stand A solitary teardrop burns soft cheek As rain slides down the windowpane In playful imitation, is it mocking me? She left when the grass was wet Should have. Could have. Why. Every pensive midnight invites insanity Dark imaginings flood the skull Like venom through the veins they sting Fighting not to dwell on them They do not quell the brain. She left when the grass was wet Tick-tick resonates within eardrums The Clock coaxes gradual acceptance When your time is up, it's up The stoical response They say she sings with the angels now And I hope so too She left when the grass was wet Peggy L. Berge I wonder -by Sinovuyo Rotya
Growing up in the township Being this tomboy sometimes girlie girl Depending on the mood, Makes me wonder sometimes Growing up in the streets Getting addicted to slang Being streetwise Knowing more about the HOOD Than I know about my school work Makes me wonder sometimes Makes me wonder If I was from a different neighbourhood Would I have been the person I am today? Would people love me more or less, Than they do? |
If only
If I had a wish, A wish that would change my present, I would wish for time to go back. For I would like to meet you again. If I had a dream, A dream that would last forever, I would dream calling you ''baby''. For that would be forever. If I had a mission, A mission that would exploit my vision, I would pour my emotions on you. For you to see my intentions. If I had a request, A request that would quench the coldness of my heart, I would like to know you. For you would warm up the glacier in my heart. If only I had a wish, If only I had a dream, If only I had a mission, If only I had a request, If only.... If only.... If.... Only.... by Ntsikelelo My thoughts
Your smile A thing of beauty Like onions It bring tears to my eyes Your face It sets into gear Emotions that are hard to disguise Your touch The warmest of things It thaws out the most frozen of hearts And your voice The most sweetest of things Turns the most lost of souls back to life. by Kwanda |
The Rain Has Tears:
The rain pours down just like these tears, Suddenly and unexpectedly it appears, Tears made of memories and of past, Kisses in the rain, that were never meant to last... Half truths and angry mistakes, More tears making pools, dams even lakes A broken heart beats silently, then still Shattered to pieces, each piece of broken will Time moves forward, racing on. It’s cold like death, my heart it’s gone The rain drops beat steadily on, to the rhythm of a forgotten song. The days never short become so long... and still the rain drops, they beat on and on. by Taige Thom What if I actually do know who I am?
And that who I am is found when I am secluded and in silence; Absent from those ferocious sounds of opinions and fiction. What if I actually do love my curved hips and dark skin and plumpy body? That when secluded I do not writhe of the answer the mirror gives But caress them with the very hands on that curved, dark body What if I actually do accept that my love is in art and photography? That in silence I choose that as my career path And that my report card aint got nothing on the lives that will be changed by my ‘artistic artillery to articulate.’ What if I actually took this silence and placed it in the world? Wouldn’t that be a shame? This is the same world that tells me that I am actually not that beautiful, This is the same world that tells me I am only as good as my qualifications This is the same world that advises me to be someone else… So how can it accept the silence? How could it appreciate my beauty? My innocence? by Tylor Dreyer |
