Fluently Poems

MY DREAM FOR ZIMBABWE

I wish I could speak Shona fluently
Trace the paths of old Zimbabwe
From the ancient cliffs of Chinoyi
To Nelson Mandela Avenue’s concrete.

But wishes, like dreams
Are shooting stars across the night
Lighting the sky with fleeting grace
Yet slipping beyond reach.

So I dream still
Of the misty beauty at Victoria Falls
Of a land where children laugh and learn
Well-fed, and free to roam.

I dream of Zimbabwe
Where no hand needs greasing
Where healing is a right
And greed is but a forgotten word.

Wellspring to Well-being

When the wellspring failed, 
thirst recast the shape of longing.
For the trust it bore had deserted us.
We then knew not. if and when, its source
would ever yield to meet our needs again.
We drank from it freely, without questioning.
Without asking, doubting why it flowed so fluently,
forever trusting that it always would.
With our thirst so easily quenched, 
we never had need to look at its source.
To see where and when the spring welled up from.
To unravel its purpose from intent,
belief from faith, will from fate,
hope from just riding along,
to reveal whether our well-being 
in our wellness was well-sprung.

THE EXPRESSION OF GRATITUDE FOR THOSE WORDS

Thank You for your wise words,
I learnt to be smart in stealing,
Stealing other’s hearts with my kind-words,
Which is filled like yours with meaning.

Thank You for your warm heart,
I learnt to be worth-adoring,
And stay awake and help others,
Even when I can hear their snoring.

Thank You for your lovely look,
Now I can fluently cook,
Cook heart-warming stories for those little children,
Who have nobody to pin their cloth’s hook.

Thank You for everything,
Without you- I am nothing,
Yet you gave me many things,
By which I can now fly and also make the world fly with wings.

New Year's Light

The clock strikes twelve, and the world exhales,
a breath held too long, now let loose in fireworks.
Here’s to beginnings wrapped in the glow of possibility,
where dreams unfurl like banners in the wind,
and hopes spark like lanterns lighting the night.

This year, I will weave stories from the threads of my soul,
binding words into pages that whisper to the world,
“Here I am—alive, striving, writing to touch hearts.”
I will stumble, perhaps, but rise again,
stronger, wiser, with ink-stained hands.

I will study the art of kindness,
learn its language and speak it fluently,
offering compassion as freely as the morning sunlight.
Each day will be a class in becoming,
not perfect, but better—a truer reflection of love.

Travel might come, or it might wait,
but journeys aren’t just of roads and planes;
I will explore within, a voyage into self-discovery,
mapping the landscapes of courage and grace.

So, here’s to you, to us, to the stories untold,
to mornings steeped in hope and evenings with peace.
May we greet the year with hearts wide open,
writing our chapters with joy and resolve.

Beauty A Medicine For Me

I love beauty
It's medicine for me
Color flowers 
Open up my color blind eyes
Your beautiful eyes
Cure my injured heart
The early birds song
Wakes my sighing soul
Your beautiful smile 
Makes my day bright
Your fair glowing skin
Reflect a good desire
As you speak fluently
Is like a spring me talking
To a beautiful nymph
And the whole you signifies
The Venus type beauty I like.

Communication

I step into a room of people.
All are strangers,
To me.

I stand on the sideline
To afraid to talk,
Knowing that I,
Stumble with Communication
And find it hard to get a conversation to flow fluently

Communication,
It's always been my struggle,
It's always been my weakness
But I have to persevere and communicate no matter what
on a daily basis

Communication,
It's a love hate relationship.

The Person I want to be

I dream of being bold, without a want or care,
To charm the crowd with wit, and much fanfare,
A fearless soul, who plays to the crowd every night.
Never doubting, never ever wrong, ever forever right.

I’d run marathons while eating cake.
I’d climb Mount Everest thrice without a break.
I'd compose a symphony from an idle hum.
I'd speak five languages fluently, just for fun.

I dream of being cool, calm, and collected,
Always sharply focused, never misdirected,
A polished version of myself, always on the ball.
Never prone to any slip up, tumble, trip or fall.

I'd love to anticipate, to always be way ahead,
To never stumble as I scramble from my bed,
To awaken with hope fulfilled to greet the morn.
To never be bedraggled, hung-over, nor forlorn.

But, here I sit, entangled in my own unkempt hair,
Locked by procrastination’s grip, tied up, in my chair.
I plan great things ahead, but then, I simply sit and stare,
To better myself, I'd need to be, another's self, elsewhere.

Honestly mom, it's fine

Dad either way always says: ,,Crying brings you nothing" 
So why do you cry mom?
To show me you are sorry? 
That I still don't know how to close my shoelaces and how to read fluently? 
When you cry mom, 
you make my bathtub full of foam.
I hate foam mom, it doesn't bring warmth.
The little bubbles show me, the other way around.
I am stucked in this weird ongoing yellowish shrunked bubbles mom.
I always used to get in the eye.
I hate when the sky turns yellow mom, 
Skies are blue.
And not see for two days.
I don't need to be cleaned.
I need something to fall asleep.
Can I borrow your pills?

Tolls the count

As the world community
Asks Israel to stand down.
Hamas murders with impunity
Then flees underground.

Isreal lives under scrutiny
And still held to account.
While terrorists have freedom
To pass their AKs around.

Free countries need unity
Not gloomy storm clouds.
When we stand together
Evil cowers in a shroud.

Thus, let us speak fluently
Yet justly so out loud
For murder there's no Immunity
And God tolls the count.

Movement Is Her Medicine

She fluently moves across the floor as silently as dust
Every muscle in her physique is on high alert to respond
Her body is perfectly sculpted from the legs to the bust
Painlessly lifting her weight by going above and beyond 

Her movements are spiritual and connect with her soul
The slim arms were in sync, blending earth with the sky 
Bowing, bending, swaying to the music, still in control
Fluttering and flapping symbolizing a monarch butterfly

Working herself into a frenzy while turning and spinning
As if pleading to life to give her a reprieve from misfortune
Tired of losing to adversity that prevents her from winning
Finally, collapsing in a heap on the floor from exhaustion

A choreographed dance is a divine artistic act of expression
It has become her medicine and the purest form of therapy
The movement hopes to reduce anxiety, fear, and depression
Though wearier than ever, for there is no cure for her malady

Learning a New Language

Ick spraeke kein Deutsch.

but i’m on a roll
of the dice,
to attempt to understand
a few phrases,
a little buzz.

mein Prinz -

he knows a little. he lived
in Germany, once upon a time.
I don't want to be dim.

I press on, past the thirty second
ads (they’re persistent)

Don’t give up.
Everyone knows a little. Perhaps not
how to spell.

This app is called Duolingo. Will it do a little
for a ding-a-ling like me?

mein Mann -

his Tanta Karen und Oncle Walter
will speak English to me
but I’d like to speak some Deutsch
to them…and listen in.

Mango also is a great help - free through the library.

I’ll never be a hyperpolyglot, but i’ll no more,
than not! You have to know at least six
languages (Do they say fluently?)

I know a little French, Spanish, German, Greek,
English of course and a little geek ;)

The Raw Truth

He was frightened by direct scrutiny.
He frequently was a pinball machine.
He knew he couldn't talk in this mutiny.
He was frightened by direct scrutiny.
After airflow, he repents fluently.
The naked truth is still taboo when seen.
He was frightened by direct scrutiny.
He frequently was a pinball machine.

Written: May 09, 2023

What a Life

We used to throw stones for enjoyment now we throw tantrums for enlightenment what a life!

Sick in the head like a rat on poison trying to find the next bread crumbs before l exhale my final breath what a life!

Beautiful , bold success the Language we fluently speak because the hunger is an insatiable monster that keeps wanting more as we give the more we drift apart therefore self realisation vital , what a life!

Goals set and in motion like a rocket headed for mass and dreams the reality of last night 's nightmare we go up and down we get high and low at the price for oxygen oh what a life!

Acquaintance and Neighbourhood

Sadly , my acquaintance  of IsiZulu and other local  languages was so badly.
hardly to speak to acquaintance neighbors in the erea
 as majority of them were sadly. 

Neighbourhood had an acquaintance woman 
superstar of Hollywood,
African woman who spoke American English 
fluently like an African - Americans. 

Hollywood superstar once carried firewood, 
Woodland is the name of  that Neighbourhood.
Place where you can find beautiful traditional houses
 and an  important old Palace.

traumatized good people always portrayed  Apartheid 
and colony as the causes of trauma. 
Hardly communication between some people
As  they were  wounded by  others hardly. 

Painful life when you are victims of  injustice, Trying to transform some unjust people by  sharing love 
and they continue to ignore your goodness 
and kindness to increase your pain. 

                February 18/2023
Written for contest sponsored by Sotto Poet

...Honorable win 
   In the contest...

Tongues

Some languages are fluently translatable
but only by how the mouth
utters and shapes them,
they are too musical to be not sung,
like Gaelic; it was my mother’s tongue
and her grandmother’s elder tongue.

Romani is acoustically spell-binding,
Grandfather was a gypsy
horses naturally understood his voice;
it’s an Indo-Aryan root language
like Yiddish, a colloquial melodia
in Ashkenazi/Aramaic.

My own genetically challenged branch
of a familial tree of tongues
is half-Jewish  – the wrong half.

These lips follow only English,
a language with too many roots,
its tongues are all blended into
a raucous silence.
There are many multilingual wounds
and they all bleed like dark treacle
out of a hide-bound dictionary.

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