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Best Poems Written by Gerry Sikazwe

Below are the all-time best Gerry Sikazwe poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Gerry Sikazwe Poem

Don'T Break Me

I'm fresh, a fresh rose,
With beauty unscathed,
Covered in a skin, soft and smooth, unscarred.
If you mean harm, just let me be,
Touch me not, if you endeavour to crush me.

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I'm green, a greeny leaf,
With youthful blood and zeal,
Of wishful dreams and daring will.
So if your plan is not to tend me, leave!
Abstain from molesting me, the fairest of leaves.

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Don't break me, i want to grow,
Don't break me, nurture me instead.

Details | Gerry Sikazwe Poem

Dance, Dance

Shaking trees, flying leaves,
Say we too can dance,
Just as they follow drums beat by winds,
We also can leap to the sounds from our hearts.
Dance, dance to your music,
Let it echo till the world glows with peace,
Let love be that song, the song of hope to the world.
Dance, dance to the music,
The very music that your soul sings.

Details | Gerry Sikazwe Poem

We Too Were Here

Winds may manage to erase our prints off the belly of the earth,
Smiles we lit on faces of people may go off,
Life may even pretend to have not birthed us,
Dreams we molded to create better futures may be treated as trash,
Then, when death has had devoured our lives.

But now is the time,
Now is the time to inscribe our names,
Deep in the skin of the sky,
Tattooing them so thickly that stars should envy,
So that even when we pass,
Those alive then may know that we too were here.

Time and seasons will soon forget us,
Even flowers in our gardens without us will go on,
Friends and acquaintances we made alone will leave us to sleep,
Gold and silver in our youth we picked will have new masters,
Then, when death has had harvested our lives.

But now is the time,
Now is the time to inscribe our names,
Deep in the skin of the sky,
Tattooing them so thickly that stars should envy,
So that even when we pass,
Those alive then may know that we too were here.
Gerry Sikazwe

Details | Gerry Sikazwe Poem

Blood For a Maize Cob

We spoke words,
We sung our emotions loud,
We felt fiery feelings for each other,
We shared smiles, we shared frowns,
We played in the rain, we wrestled in the mud,
But today we are against each other,
Today we are pointing not only fingers of accusations but actual machetes,
My folks why are we at war?
*
Remind me please, why are we fighting?
Is it because Ngwenya's son stole a cob of maize from Chona's field?
Is it because of hunger found in our own brothers household, that we choose to spill blood?
When we were young, remember, we stole not for hunger but for pleasure,
Even then, our parents never in a moon wished to shed blood,
Our parents never sworn enmity, never disowned each other because they knew that children are children,
Now our son has stolen for hunger, a noble cause,
Why then should we fight, men of one house?
Why my brothers should blood be shed?
Why should blood of our very own be spilt?
*
Is our blood of equal value with maize?
Should our blood be of equalled to a cob of maize?
Listen, our wives mock us,
Hear, hear how old women make fun of us,
Look, our fathers plead with us,
The ground rumbles loudly to our display of folly,
The skies above us, drop tears of disappointed gods.
Gods mourn for our cursed savage ways.
Why should blood be spilt for a maize cob?

Details | Gerry Sikazwe Poem

They Speak Out Caged Life

Walls have ears,
Walls do hear,
Even the most concealed of plots,
Even the most whispered of words.
Walls have tongues,
Walls have lips,
With which they gossip,
With which hidden secrets they shine.
Walls have souls, souls of lazy old women,
Walls have hearts, those of life- spanked grown men,
They chatter, loudly they sing all they hear,
They paint with their assuring lips untrue tales.
Walls have breath, to speak out caged shadows,
Walls have voices which echo chained words into men's ears.
Thus, as speech with a brother is carved, be wise
For not only he listens but walls too.

Details | Gerry Sikazwe Poem

Fair Star Shine

Beauty is a voice, with which you sing your song,
Sing it that our hearts maybe awakened.
Beauty is the drum, with which you echo your tune,
So beat it that our souls may leap out of their dark confines, and dance.
For beauty is the texture your life's skin is made of,
It is the array that covers your soul,
Shine, shine on fair star.
Glow, you are beautiful just the way you are,
You are more than what the silver stained glass yells out,
You are more than looks; curves and dress.
Burn, fair star and warm the universe with that your unique fire.
Burn!

Details | Gerry Sikazwe Poem

In Love, Forever Weak

Love is for the weak,
And wine for the strong.
I'm a valiant knighted warrior,
One who has no nature of frailty,
But what shall i be ?
But what shall i do?
Now, that my heart a lass has plucked,
Now that she holds it deep in her hands.
Must i drink wine and so have her faded into tots?
Or maybe I should just fall in love and weak forever be?

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Love is for the weak,
But wine is for the strong.

Details | Gerry Sikazwe Poem

Playful and Sily

I see you, broken,
Drowning deep in tears you shed.
Your heart to shards left,
By one playful and silly.
Who's gone, to wreck another!

Details | Gerry Sikazwe Poem

Rat Race

Fear glowed, burning as on fire,
Everywhere where darkness dwelt, its taunting presence shone as a star,
Her heart was leaping, just almost as if out of its socket,
Sweat oozing out, trickling like rain squeezed out of the clouds,
Her veins popping out, draining her of all hope.
She had never left her mother's hole,
Now she was alone, a lone prey to an angered hungry beast.
Now she was to defend herself for the first time, to run as in a race fast, running away to scoop the first prize, her life.
Running fast, fast away.

Details | Gerry Sikazwe Poem

1

Fresh wounds of broken spirits,
Dry scars of long ago broken hearts. 
Soft whispers of trembling, scared souls,
Loud moans of chained, caged dreams.
These Are portraits painted on their faces,
These Are images captured in their eyes.
They would love to be happy,
But somehow it is too expensive for them to afford,
They wish they could smile,
However, that is too high a dream for them to imagine,
They have been beaten by life not once, not twice,
They have been battered by time's hurting whip all their lives.
Comfort is a star that swims far from them, far away from shore,
Peace is a cloud that flies high up above their reach,
They are perplexed, with souls torn and worn out,
Life to them is of no meaning, it has lost direction.
What clay will bake them, recreating their form?
Who shall breathe life in their mortified nostrils?
What music will cause their sleeping hearts to leap, dancing again?
If not words, words of life,
Yes words, words of life