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Best Poems Written by Mcgregor T Chitawu

Below are the all-time best Mcgregor T Chitawu poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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A Mother's Son

One had to carry me in her womb for nine months awaiting the day on which I was to come out, Only to be cheated that I'm no longer nine months old.
I've known her all these years as what Science calls "A Biological Mother. "
Lately, I've come to know that that's just what it takes to be a mother in the eyes of many even though it ain't like that in the eyes of mine.
After all, Sometimes six can be nine.

I grew to love she who made sure I got my mashed bananas while watching "Bananas in Pyjamas" for she's the one on whose back I've slept a lot and at the same time messed my naps a lot.
She's the one I'd call whenever I was down and So I called her "Mama".
She is my "mother"'s Sister yes, but I grew attached to her motherly love that I felt appalled by those telling me she is my "Aunt"
After all, Sometimes six can be nine.

I gave headaches to she who had to accept a man and his son,
Whose silence burnt like the summer sun.
And still she loved and tried her best to bear with me for I was a better pain compared to the man of the house who'd come home a drunken comic.
I'm forever grateful for her presence and patience in my old man's life.
I ended up admitting that she is "A Strong mother" rather than what most people call " a stepmother".
After all, Sometimes six can be nine.

Then I grew up to be a man but was claimed by another mother.
She was the first to say she saw greatness beyond measured magnitude within me.
Another "Mother"'s Sister as they say but she's the one in whose footsteps I learnt independent thinking.
As great as she claims I am she still called me a son, a "baby" who must still grow and hence she put me under the wing of her ever watchful husband's eye as a son again.
From him I learnt and am still learning to be a being and staying in my lane to avoid crashing,

Life, being a matter of perception has taught me to define many things according to my preference but when it comes to the word Mother I know I have a handful of them.
And I chose not to define but to appreciate and love all of them as they vary.
Besides, Sometimes six can be nine

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Remember My Name

My mind races, and
Courage blossoms.
Grace presents herself,
Robbing me of my laziness.
Eloquence, being the only way to live.
Gratitude is given for all the breaths taken, and
Of all the wishes I have, the meridian is that, you
Remember my name.

Details | Mcgregor T Chitawu Poem

Do It Anyways

The wind blows in any desired style
Any day every once in a while,
Man's comments to it are just a riffraff pile.

The sun will give you some chilli sensation,
With no fear for it needs to take no consultation
From mankind whose whimperings cause no affliction.

Yet you still worry about what they'll say
When you know, they only speak once a Day.
No other day is given, for them to play
Take your clay-
Remember, just to mould a craft-
Trust your guts-

They help you, for no matter your move,
The tongue will move-
In critique.

But listen, "There has never been a statue erected for a critique",
I heard so...

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Healing Replied

(Aniyah Smith's "Healing" had to be replied.)

She said, "Write me a poem instead."
I complied and I wrote of matters of the mind and of the heart;
Of the love that I gave to all that I got to get to love and,
How it was frowned upon rather than being returned. 
Yet I still made it a survival story rather than a suicidal note,
Because there were smiles involved.
Had not taken the road to the bridge upon which souls separate 
from the places they call homes yet.
My soul reminded me of it's everlasting support and care up until that night.
So, no there was no end but a beginning I am now beginning to understand after hanging around my soul more often than I had ever done before,
For I now understand that the soul is the sole friend I truly have.
The one whose rejoices in my victories are entirely genuine and whose advices are with no hidden agendas.
We learnt to smile together, me and my soul, whenever we found purpose in our very own existence in the whole universe.
So, yes, I wrote a poem.
However, more than a survival story I had a gratitude note to the soul which refused to give in when the body almost quit.
The Soul which refused to break down when I had a break down thinking I had become weak only to realise that the soul grows in times of trials.

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Fishing

I threw my fishing rod into murky waters
And, as you might have guessed, caught a lousy nothing.
But true as that may be, my bait worm was ate
Now I know there is something to catch.

So, I feed the waters to check for action
As I prepare my hook to fetch in the motion.
Now that I've seen, I am keen
To send the hook as I lean,
To go and fetch the good bream.

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Now it is shameful!

To show that you care
When on your chin is fur,
Because..."All men are the same."

For, those who care will have their hearts damaged and eyes,
                                                  filled with bloodlike tears.
And once you're seen crying,
Or "whimpering", then you're a weakling.
Yet, men are supposed to be Strong.
Because, "All men are the same", right?

So, play along and tell tales 
Of how strong you are 
And how long in the dark you can dwell,
Fear, being the last thing you can even smell.

Now it is shameful,

To appear soft and loving
When others are rough and tough
If the blanket goes off, no need for tugging,
For you will give us another reason to laugh
Because, "All men are strong!"

For, soft and loving are qualities not suitable 
For a player who knows how the ball rolls.
You can't be a man, yet not a player
That's just a wish, you're a terrible liar.
And besides, "All men are the same", right?

Details | Mcgregor T Chitawu Poem

The Chill

This chill caused by 
the pills of rejecting
our life's will, unknowingly 
ignoring the purpose for which
we decided to till is what
will kill any skill which
we may have long drilled into the heads.