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Best Poems Written by Kamogelo Maubane

Below are the all-time best Kamogelo Maubane poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Kamogelo Maubane Poem

Bilocation

In the tapestry of divine embrace,
Aspect of God, woven with grace.
Indivisible from the cosmic whole,
A presence ensouls, a sacred soul.

Feeble form, ordained to unfold,
On earthly stage, a story told.
Not merely actors in life's grand trance,
Bilocating awareness, a cosmic dance.

Recognizing the script, we play our part,
Life's drama echoed in the heart.
Bilocation unfolds, a spiritual stance,
A joyful ballet, soul's exquisite advance.

Details | Kamogelo Maubane Poem

Imagination

In the realm of dreams, where echoes dance,
"Imagination" takes its chance.

Sparkling realms and cosmic hues,
A kaleidoscope of fanciful views.

I soar on whispers of fantasy's breeze,
Through moonlit seas and enchanted trees.

In my mind's embrace, the mundane unwinds,
A tapestry of wonders, where magic finds.

Creatures unseen in daylight's glow,
Tales unfold, where fantasies grow.

Unbridled thoughts, a carousel of delight,
Where time dissolves in the softest light.

Majestic dragons, guardians of the night,
Guide me through realms, surreal and bright.

Imagination, the muse of the soul,
A masterpiece painted on dreams' scroll.

So, let's traverse the astral plane,
In the poetry of imagination, let's reign.

Details | Kamogelo Maubane Poem

I am not a black , I am a black woman

He forgot our roots, from where those women came,
Raised by resilient black women, breaking trauma's claim.
Not a black , I stand as a black woman, strong,
In the absence of your father, I've learned to belong.
Speaking of black pussy, don't reduce us to disdain,
My essence, an ocean's scent, a heritage to maintain.
Hating black women, misguided and unkind,
My body, not your rehabilitation center to find.
In the tapestry of resilience, my story unfolds,
A symphony of strength, in the narrative it holds.
To understand, you must listen, not condemn,
My black pussy, a sanctuary, not built for them.
In the echoes of silence, I rise above,
A black woman, not defined by others' love.
My worth, my power, not for rehabilitation,
For in my own essence, I find restoration.

Details | Kamogelo Maubane Poem

The Strength Within


I will not bow, nor bend, nor break,  
For I have fire no storm can take.  
My voice, though quiet, will rise and roar,  
A wave that crashes on every shore.  

No chains of silence will hold me still,  
For I am forged by iron will.  
The world may press, but I stand tall,  
Unafraid to speak, to risk it all.  

In every shadow, I find my light,  
I stand my ground, I own my fight.  
For I am more than what they see,  
A soul that’s fierce, forever free.


The Strength of She Who Leads

She walks where others fear to tread,
With battles fought inside her head.
Not every crown is made of gold—
Some are silent, fierce, and bold.

She leads not just with words, but fire,
With vision sharp and soul inspired.
When storms arise and voices shake,
She stands unbent—she does not break.

Her power isn’t loud or grand,
It’s steady grace, a guiding hand.
She’s fallen, yes—but rose again,
Each scar a medal earned from pain.

She does not wait for paths to clear,
She carves the way and conquers fear.
Her tears have watered fields of growth,
She’s made of iron and of oath.

To lead is not to seek applause,
But rise each time for higher cause.
Through doubt, through fire, through darkest night—
She shines, a beacon forged in light.

So if you seek the soul who wins—
Look not at ease, but where it begins.
In every heart that dares, believes—
There lives the strength of one who leads.

Details | Kamogelo Maubane Poem

ANC Greedy Leaders- South Africa

In a land where shadows linger long,
A tale unfolds of a people's song.
Apartheid's chains, a cruel embrace,
Enslaved hearts in a divided space.
Kindred souls, with no love for gold,
Living lives where stories are told.
No ego's sway, no material desire,
Yet, history unfolds, a somber fire.
Through years of colonization's hand,
A web woven tight across the land.
Black against black, a twisted game,
Materialism's rise, igniting the flame.
Brothers turned enemies, sisters in strife,
A discord sown in the fabric of life.
Marriages crumble, love replaced,
By a hunger for wealth, an insatiable taste.
Men with men, for coin's allure,
Sisters sell bodies, hearts impure.
Fathers oppressed, bearing the weight,
Of a legacy forged in a bitter fate.
Mothers, once pillars, now torn between,
Feminist fervor, a tumult unseen.
Destroying man, a misguided quest,
As unity crumbles, a nation oppressed.
In the chaos, a stark divide,
White families thrive, with values beside.
Raising children free from trauma's stain,
While others suffer from history's pain.
Land ownership a tale of despair,
As the majority's share becomes rare.
Charges for power, land, and more,
A cruel toll on a people's core.
Nelson Mandela, once hailed with cheer,
Now accused, a clone, a double near.
ANC's leaders, bellies filled with greed,
Stealing from those with the greatest need.
A nation weeps, in sorrow and woe,
As the coming generation begins to sow,
Seeds of despair, young lives entwined,
In a web of darkness, seeking to find.
Awakening sought in the depths of despair,
A plea for help, a nation's prayer.
To break the chains and rise above,
Reclaiming a heritage, a legacy of love.

Details | Kamogelo Maubane Poem

awakening verse,

Its an institutionalized war against a black man yet a fellow black man is glorifying his brother man who cheat and lie to his wife and family, this is bull how are we building the nation with lustful horny old boys.We need disciplined committed men who are not easy destructed  to fight with this institutionalized system intended to destroy a black melanated man.

Its an institutionalized war against a black man  yet an illiterate fellow black man will call you a scammer for choosing to HodL bitcoin instead of material possesion now they have 25 years on bonds, ballon payment and debt while one is sitting on 25 bitcoin.

Its an institutionalized war against a black man  yet an illiterate fellow black man assume 27 cars is a symbol of wealth i told them i rather have 27 bitcoin or 27 hectars of land.

Its an institutionalized war against a black man yet a black man  is celebrated for accumulating vanity slaves material possessions when you ask about assets vs liabilities balances sheet or cashflow thats when you realised these people are uninformed, illiterates who worship vanity instead of accummulating cash generating assets then you ask yourself whats the purpose of school if it produce so many vanity slaves.

Its an institutionalized war against a black man  yet a fellow black man will never encourage you to start a business let alone support your initiatives but rather call you names for unplugging from a 9-5 employment  matrix cause the only thing he ever wish for was to escape the village and experience city  life. 

These are some of the things that contribute to overall  moral decay.The problem with us is that we dont keep it real with each other.We all allow our fellow brother man to indulge in unproductive economical and personal life activities that only keep them in a rat race or destroy thier mental peace.The ripple effect of this ignorance is the current state of the nation.

Details | Kamogelo Maubane Poem

The world war 3

In the tapestry of turmoil, World War 3 unfolds,
Yemen, America, Palestine—stories of war retold.
Hamas and Israel dance on a contentious stage,
Nations entwined in a conflict that fuels rage.
South Africa intervenes, with a knowing heart,
A history of apartheid, tearing worlds apart.
Freedom's taste lingers in their collective soul,
Yet, the present echoes a globe out of control.
Colonizers, architects of exploitation's creed,
Ravaged nations, left scars that still bleed.
Unusable lands, resources stripped bare,
A legacy of pain, a burden we all share.
The problem of wars, a tragic human tale,
A narrative of power, where the mighty prevail.
Brother against brother, ideologies collide,
The casualties mount, as humanity's hopes slide.
Emotion seeps through the wounds of the displaced,
Children robbed of innocence, dreams erased.
Mothers weep, fathers fight an endless war,
In the midst of chaos, what are we fighting for?
Controversy whispers in the corridors of peace,
A world divided, yearning for a sweet release.
Yet, solutions elude, like shadows in the night,
Caught in the web of politics, power, and might.
Could diplomacy be the balm for wounds so deep?
Or are we prisoners, in a cycle we can't sweep?
Emotional echoes, pleading for a global change,
Can we rewrite our story, on a broader range?
Controversy rises, challenging the status quo,
Is peace an illusion, or a path we can sow?
In the heart of chaos, can compassion ignite?
A world united, where love takes flight.
Solutions beckon from the realm of empathy,
Understanding the root, not just the legacy.
Education, dialogue, fostering unity's art,
Perhaps therein lies the key to mend each heart.
Controversial or not, the answer remains unclear,
In the symphony of chaos, can harmony draw near?
Emotionally torn, seeking peace's sweet refrain,
For a world at war, yearning to break the chain.

Details | Kamogelo Maubane Poem

Mother Nature - The Great

In the realm of existence, where time unfolds,
A tale of wonder, in verses untold.
A symphony of life, in hues of vast,
A saga of futures, present, and past.

From the womb of chaos, creation springs,
With every heartbeat, the universe sings.
Stars dance in the heavens, a cosmic ballet,
While galaxies twirl in an endless display.

On a small blue planet, in a corner of space,
Life emerges, with a delicate grace.
From microscopic cells to towering trees,
A tapestry of beings, living free.

But amidst the beauty, there lies a strife,
A struggle for survival, in the theater of life.
Mother Nature, with her gentle hand,
Crafts the world with care, across the land.

Yet she's also the mistress of chaos and woe,
Unleashing her furry, with a relentless blow.
Storms brew in the heavens, fierce and wild,
As oceans rage, like a tempest unbridled.

Earthquakes rumble, shaking the ground,
And volcanoes erupt, with a thunderous sound.
Wildfires rage, consuming the land,
Leaving scorched earth, in their burning hand.

But within her wrath, there's a hidden grace,
A reminder of the cycles, in this cosmic race.
For after the storm, comes a calm so sweet,
And from the ashes, life finds its beat.

In the quiet of dawn, with the sun's first light,
The world awakens, from the long dark night.
Birds sing in the trees, a melody divine,
As flowers bloom, in colors that shine.

So let us cherish this gift, this world so rare,
With its mountains, rivers, and clean, fresh air.
For in the tapestry of life, we all play a part,
A thread in the fabric, of this cosmic art.

In the grand tapestry of life's design,
There lurks a shadow, a sinister sign.
For amidst the beauty and the grandeur,
There lies a truth, cold and pure.

Death, with its icy fingers, does roam,
Claiming the living, far from home.
In myriad ways, it takes its toll,
From the young to the wise, it steals the soul.

Like a thief in the night, it comes unseen,
In sickness and health, in famine and green.
It whispers softly, in the ear of the weak,
And with a gentle touch, it bids them to seek.

From the battlefield's carnage, where warriors fall,
To the silent halls of hospitals' call,
Death knows no boundaries, no creed nor name,
It's a universal truth, an eternal game.

In the grip of disease, it tightens its hold,
Leaving loved ones grieving, in sorrow untold.
From cancers that ravage, to fevers that burn,
It takes its victims, with no return.

In accidents sudden, where fate takes a turn,
Lives are shattered, as bridges burn.
From car crashes to falls from great heights,
Death claims its prize, in the darkest of nights.

And yet, amidst the despair and the pain,
There lies a truth, that does remain.
For though death may claim us, in the end,
It cannot break the bonds, that love does lend.

For in memories cherished, and stories retold,
The spirit lives on, in hearts that hold.
So though death may come, with its silent shroud,
It cannot conquer love, for death be not proud.

Details | Kamogelo Maubane Poem

Who is truly free, what is true freedom?



In the depths of our souls, where shackles crumble to dust,
There lies the essence of freedom, in which we all must trust.
It's not in chains unbroken, nor in walls torn down,
But in the spirit soaring, where true freedom is found.

Freedom isn't just a word, it's a state of mind,
It's the courage to be different, to leave conformity behind.
It's the power to choose, to walk our own path,
To embrace our flaws and scars, and to laugh and love and laugh.

True freedom isn't bound by borders or by time,
It's the melody of the heart, in its rhythm and its rhyme.
It's the whisper of the wind, the dance of the flame,
It's in every breath we take, in every soul aflame.

So who is truly free? It's you, it's me, it's us,
In our dreams and aspirations, in our triumphs and our trust.
For freedom isn't given, it's something we must claim,
In the depths of our being, where our true selves remain.

Details | Kamogelo Maubane Poem

Unmusking the lies - to Elon Musk


Unmusking the Lies - Poem written to Elon Musk

In the stillness of night, a truth stirs and grows,  
A chorus of voices, where our history flows.  
From the ashes of burdens, our spirits ignite,  
Our pain woven deep, and we’re reclaiming our light.

Elon, hear our cries—this narrative’s flawed,  
To claim we are killers, is a strike at theawed.  
The echo of struggle, the chant you condemn,  
Is a cry for the fallen, for our lost sisters and brethren.

"Kill the Boer," they chant—not a call to the blade,  
But a voice through the silence, where our heroes were laid.  
It reflects the suffering, the scars of the past,  
A fight for our freedom, a hope built to last.

We carry the weight of history’s chains,  
But our joy and our strength break free from the pains.  
We aren't the oppressors; we rise, we stand tall,  
In the shadows of anguish, our spirits won’t fall.

So listen, dear world, and lend us your ear,  
For the truth of our struggle is steeped in our fear.  
To label us violent is to silence our soul;  
We rise from oppression, reclaiming our whole.

The chants of the past are our stories of strife,  
They honor the fallen, they honor our life.  
In the face of injustice, we won’t turn away,  
We’ll sing for the chosen, who fought night and day.

So stop with the labels, and see us anew,  
For our strength is in unity, and our hearts hold the truth.  
That mourning is layered, and pain wears many forms,  
But in justice and healing, our resilience transforms.

Let love be the narrative, let wisdom be clear,  
For only in understanding will we silence the fear.  
Together, we rise, hand in hand, side by side,  
In the tapestry of justice, our souls will abide.