We only talked sanely a few times,
About how he also had a condition like me,
Although my dad, who had a Medical Doctorate, when James was small wouldn’t say,
Obvious as it was that he had CF from his inward-growing finger-nails,
Dad decided to bypass the issue, medicine to assail.
I have CP, and needed James’s comfy chair to read,
It was given to him in misogyny because it was blue,
About three months before he died he said,
I could have it, and must convince mum and dad that it was mine;
They were Christians, fundamentalist and strict,
And so sometimes there was an elephant in the room,
Between me and James, about the physical.
Death is inevitable, but to them it was only a maybe for James,
When the doctors had said that 14 was the expectation,
I prepared myself for the worst well before it occurred,
As an atheist I am, with no qualms or hesitation.
James wanted for me the best, happiness and friends,
Wanted me to do my best physically, ‘cos he knew I wanted that too,
But he also suspected that I would grieve for him rightly,
Not like a sentimental fundamentalist who believes that Jesus is risen,
But as a steadfast atheist who knows what has been given;
So he knew to remark on my immediate life without him so as to adjudicate.
I cherished Christinna Georgina Rossetti’s poem, Remember,
Long before and for some time after James’s death,
And quietly held in my heart the loved-one’s good wish,
Mum used to think that sometimes I was cold as stone,
But really I'd faced the fact that James was dead and gone.
Although Rossetti was by no means an atheist,
Her poem recites the mantra of the bereavement psychologist,
That to get on with your life as best you can,
Is a right, the partner of grief, and the pathway for your lone self;
In the Bleak Mid-Winter puts Christ as relational to nature,
Instead of pertaining nature to Christ, as it is normally,
And so we must partake of it within our space and our pasture.
Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015
AFRICAN TRADITIONAL RELIGION
Our culture, our worship, our belief, our trait
From West they came, they marred our pride
As Blacks protest, the Whites defend
Religions they brought are filled with threat
So unprepared, the groom met bride
Right now in chaos, we still pretend
Now people cheat, and live un-straight
But if t’was then, t’would not be tried
We need retrace, let truth descend.
Our church increase, our Mosque expand
Our tears abound, our fears resound
And should I call for us to merge?
The more I think, I don’t und’stand
In time of old, our faith was sound
You dare not err, or try to serge
The gods would strike and take their stand
Those faiths from West could not expound
Alas! Oh God, our faiths enlarge.
Copyright © HOPE NWAGBOSO | Year Posted 2013
What is life???
Life is a journey
Life is a puzzle
Only the correct pieces to be connected
Connected to complete puzzle
Pieces which differ from size & shape
They made from different moments
Even if they fit but does not...
A human life.
It has to be the right format.
Life that depends in all seasons
Life is not completed with Rands or Dollas
Only those who has the strength to
Hang on will survive.
Life is a picture without a painter
Its a subject of tolerance.
Life is a gift from the Creator
Life is a Journey without a master
It is full of surprises and challenges
Consist of Great and Happy moments
Life is never good
Life is never smooth
Life is a storm just learn how to dance on it
It consist of rain,sun and cold weather
LIFE IS PRECIOUS...
Copyright © Benedict Msawenkosi Khubeka | Year Posted 2016
Your hard heart is a skipping grave stone
traveling over troubled water
The consequences of sin
is rippling out on fleshly tear surfaces
Those wicked actions of yours have touched
a lot of people indirectly
Waves of weeping hurt keeps spreading out
Foaming out your shame,
as the sin stone skips across the muddy water
Skip ... skip ... skip
With each skip of the sin stone,
the multiplying of transgressions radially ripples along outward
And your soul inevitably will sink downward
Feel the ripple effect take effect
Sin’s gonna make you drown in wet regret
Pull your soul undertow
with a heavy concrete block of pain
Ripple effect taking effect once again
This will be engraved on your skipping burial headstone:
You skimmed over a lot of watery warnings —
but causing the ripple effect, you never once did atone
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017
They teach me here on earth
that after life of living flesh
one of three places I shall go to
Heaven or hell or purgatory
Lord listen to me kindly;
If I do not fit in any of the three
and I find life there dangerous
could you allow me another choice
a place of three in one , one in three
partly paradise, partly hell
and partly purgatory
I enjoy happiness in heaven for a while
go for hard labor in hell for some time
and for tourism, I go to Purgatory
there I am sure to meet some relatives
some friends and even my pastors
I am certain life will be interesting
that You created us to enjoy life
Copyright © Solomon Ochwo-Oburu | Year Posted 2017
Oh God, omnipotent thou art
Accept this poet's humble prayer
Because thou art almighty
And ever present in my life.
You are there whenI need you
And like a hound you follow me
Wherever I goest.
When I stray, you call me back.
There is no escaping from your love.
Your love is eternal and endless.
More than what infinity means.
More than everlastingness.
You are the source of inspiration
An eternal muse that beautifies
My world, a world of limitation
I cannot grasp.
But you are there always for me
And oftentimes I cannot see
But faithfully I come to you
For hope and inspiration too.
Copyright © Ed Farolan | Year Posted 2017