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Mthandazo Ngwenya Poem
there is a place called home,
where I meet my family and friends,
there is a place, where I meet my loved ones,
feeling free, feeling welcomed.
my heart takes me there,
my soul travels along those green leaves,
always having, joyous, squeaking birds,
the dry sand of the mighty river,
I long to lie there, and glance at the cunning monkeys.
the sun so bright and shiny,
beautiful African savanna,
no place like home,
surely no place like home.
how could I forget the sound of the cattle bells,
the barking of dogs, the braying of the donkeys,
the morning crow of the cocks,
surely no place like home.
away in a far away land,
where each man fights for himself,
i can't help thinking about home,
home is marvelous, home is great,
surely home is best.
Copyright © Mthandazo Ngwenya | Year Posted 2015
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Mthandazo Ngwenya Poem
dark clouds, thunder bolts,
free fall, rain drops, water bodies,
to the just and the unjust.
Copyright © Mthandazo Ngwenya | Year Posted 2015
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Mthandazo Ngwenya Poem
packing up my clothes,
looking good,
leaving the city,heading home,
I'm going destination Filabusi,
i'm happy,i'm joyous and alive,
the bus terminus a hive of activity,
the old battered bus has swallowed us,
yes i'm going destination Filabusi,
the drunken men sing,
old songs of their childhood,
heading home sweet home,
to see children before they go asleep,
in their beloved land of Filabusi,
the children perched on their mothers' laps,
glued outside the rattling bus windows,
told by their mothers to look out for the wild,
at Chipangali animal orphanage,
there we follow the marvelous Gwanda/Beitbridge road,
slithering on the edge of the mountains,
the deep silent gorges,not for the faint hearted,
on my way to Filabusi,
look at the gigantic exposed rocks of Mbalabala,
not to forget the mysterious burning mountain,
the great Mzingwane River we cross,
to the place of gold my home,
arriving at destination Filabusi,
pleasant view of the misty mountains,
the ever green fields and abundant waters of Fort Rixon,
coupled by the return of the chief,
dispersed by the colonial era to Gokwe,
we welcome you back chief Jahana Khumalo.
Copyright © Mthandazo Ngwenya | Year Posted 2015
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Mthandazo Ngwenya Poem
the poor old tree,
so long,to tell a story,
a story of scars,
a story of axe-wielding men,
a story of clown monkeys and squirrels,
suffer so,like an old,old tree,
rooted on earth,clinging to life,
so stagnant,in tears,perspiration,
bear fruit at old age,
do trees have families?,
do they visit each other?,
do they miss their loved ones?,
do they walk at night?,
it's their secret,
they won't share it,
for the wood seller,
went to a forest,
a thick forest,
he started felling trees,
"is the rustle the wails or
the acapella songs",
he left wild in mixed thoughts,
he however decided to return,
in the same dense forest,
green branches were growing on the stumps,
he thought and said,
'even a severed branch grows again'
that's what he believed,
he went on, to the village,
with important lessons from the veld,
'let's protect our trees!,they are essential,
in our lives,no to global warming".
i'm a tree,i live on the mountains,
i live in the valleys,
i grow in swampy waters,
i grow in cracks,that you can't imagine,
i grow towards to beautiful blue skys,
so long,my keepers,
the next generation,will never see me,
if you keep on,destroying us,
farewell.
Copyright © Mthandazo Ngwenya | Year Posted 2015
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Mthandazo Ngwenya Poem
roaring lions, crooked paths,
Lord,i'm coming home,
hailstorms, rainstorms,
Lord i'm coming home,
forever,
at home, i will have,
the soothe of the heart and soul,
Lord i'm coming home,
Lord i'm heading home,
forever,
taking my feet, on the dry grass,
when seasons pass,
with a twinkling sign,
taking my feet, on the wet lands,
where hidden thorns prickle my feet,
i have left those lost folks,
who vowed never to return home,
i'm heading home, sweet home,
indeed, forever.
Copyright © Mthandazo Ngwenya | Year Posted 2015
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