Let the beauty flourish

Let the beauty flow

I have always wondered how people get to write beautiful love poems, love stories. Where do they get their inspiration?  How do those words get to flow so easily on paper? How the keyboard listens to their fingers and letter falls into place, forming beautiful sentences, lovely paragraphs. Few years back I said; “the day I'll be inspired by love I'll tell the world of its beauty.” But such beauty don't seem to be written. I have experienced love (friendship, family, self, all love) but the beauty of these words do not want to escape my thoughts. My fingers do not cooperate with how I'm feeling. What goes on paper is not what I'm thinking.  

An Apology

The broken

I said I’m sorry but you still don’t believe me

I know I have hurt you

I know I have done you wrong

I know I have tormented your world

I know I have made you hate mankind

I know I lied to you, I told you not to worry.

I know you have asked me countless times who this person was

I lied and said he’s my cousin

I lied and said he’s my buddy, my closest male friend

I lied and said he’s a guy who offered me a lift non-else

Mischievous Talent

Kodwa mntanami unesiphiwo sok’ganga

It was a lovely summer evening when my dad came back from work. It was my turn to make him tea, as per normal I went to the kitchen turned on the kettle, and set out all the things i'd need for the tea. While I was waiting for the kettle to boil, I was humming some song and attempting to dance. A few minutes later the kettle hasn’t started boiling, I checked the switched, and examined the kettle and all seemed well. I waited for a few more minutes but there wasn’t any difference. Weird, it was working not so long ago, I wondered what happened. I told my dad that the kettle isn’t boiling. He came to the kitchen to check it, he flicked the switched on and off, checked if the kettle was sitting properly he even checked the cord and he found no fault. I was bit annoyed because now I had to boil the water in a pot on the stove and that takes forever and it cuts through my precious television time.

So I was the Makhwapheni

The moment I found out I was the Makhwapheni.

He came up to me, hit me with the best line, all smiles and knees weaken. I’m taken to another world that no man can explain. I’m flattered by this nice gentleman, his eyes, smile, teeth, those looks, he’s just unbelievable. He's a smooth talker; he wants nothing but simple friendship. Well; why not, I can be friends.

Three years later he confesses his love, I'm what he's been looking for all these years, he says. “You're the best friend a guy could ever have, how about we turn this relationship into a romantic one.” Without hesitation, we started dating. The guy was just too ‘perfect’, I’ve seen his flaws, knew his past and judging from our friendship I quite liked him. I fell for him so hard.

Dear Passion

Dear Passion

I don't know where I'd be if it wasn't for you. I don't think I'd be able to wake in the morning and genuinely look forward to my day. I don't know if I'd be able to breathe without you. Without you passion I'm incomplete. Over the past months, I must admit I did somehow let you go. My mind was clouded by the glamour of the end result. I had forgotten that the road ain't steady. I know; I saw what others were getting and wondered why am I left in a ditch where passion seems to be disappointing me.
I've followed you all these years but I've never seemed to be content. What is it really that you want from me? You have shown me glimpses of you, I have been to most of your spheres yet I was never in. Only once, one of your spheres looked all good and I was certain about it, you came back and said not this time. 

Still Hustling after four years of graduation

Graduating from one of Mzansi's to Universities

"If you're not happy just quit, and keep hunting for your happiness."

Many a times we are told to follow our dreams, to do what feels right to us, to do what we love. But, how many people have told you the honest truth that the road to passion is full of hurdles, frustration, poverty and aging. Your parents always ask you when are they gonna see the fruits of their money. 

I've spent twelve years in school, plus four years as an undergraduate, mommy funding my education. The day finally came, Black gown, going up on stage, the best day of my life. I left the school ground (the haven) and spent another three years "hustling" jumping from one space to another. The more I shifted, the more I lost financially. Let's face it the hustling game is full of tears and disappointments. It is full of hard labour; you have to spend in order to make your name, to get the so-called experience- glorified in every workplace you. I have jumped from internships where I was making enough to get to "work" just in the name of experience. At some point I settled for less (nothing), because sitting at home watching TV the whole day is quite depressing, I went for an unpaid internship because I needed a job and having a done a degree that they do not believe in at home was not helping.

Child of the African Soil

Africa Day

I was moulded from the very sands of my land.

The colour of my skin constitutes of every shade of the soil, blended together to create the right shade, the right tone, the right glow.

The sun rays illuminates the beauty of the African child. It accentuates every aspect of the African child, every pore oozes of perfection.  Every blemish radiates the true beauty of Africa.

To the Natural Loners and Wonderers

“Not everywhere you fit is where you belong.”

A profound statement that most individuals are faced with during their journey of self-discovery. This journey never seems to end because every now and again one has to sit down and evaluate the environment they're in and the person they have become. Each person gets a chance to do some introspection on oneself. Am I the person I would be proud of meeting? Would I befriend me if I were to meet me on the streets? Would I have lunch with me? Am I truthful to myself and not pleasing the masses? This journey leave’s most individuals confused beyond belief because when one thinks they have found themselves and the crowd they don't mind being with and have meaningful memories with. This can turn out to be the opposite, where one finds themselves sitting at the barrier asking if I truly belong here.

Some get disconnected from the known social structures, structures that they belong to; they have been part of for ages. One gets to ask God where you want me. What person do you want me to be? Whom should I call friends?

Passion has become a curse

Thrown into the debt society

As a kid I always admired the women who stood in front of the class talking to the young minds. The women who instilled knowledge to the young minds , who became their 8 hours 5 days a week mother. The women who were passionate, whose presence oozed of love, care and nurture. I always envisioned myself to be such a woman one day.

I remember in 1996 when I went with my grandfather and aunt to Florida Avenue Primary School to enrol my aunt in grade 4. Mrs Menaar greeted us with the most friendliest smile I've ever seen, and she asked me my name. Confident, I remember telling her, and she said that she looks forward to seeing me in class, only for my grandpa to tell her I'll be starting school the following year. The memory of that day sparked the love of teaching, that one day I'd also want to welcome a young hopeful child to my class. Introduce them to the world beyond their imagination. Show them that they are stars and they can change the world.

My Magic

Exploring the Creative World 

Thought I should explore the creative world and see what magic i can create from it. Was kinda scared to share it but I remembered that if I don't share my work how will people know the great things I can do. How will I grow the gift God has given me.

Dear February

Dear February

I know you only have 28 days and when you feel adventurous in every 4 years you add one more day. That special child, leap year. How we all love leap year. Many believe that we should act outside the norm, for example, women can propose to men. Everything doesn’t become so traditional. We can be who we suppress all these years. Oh how I love thee, my February.

Tomorrow shall be a brighter day

Patience my child, tomorrow shall be a brighter day.

When the heart is full of sorrow and the mind overpowered by the gloominess;

what do I have to do

Each morning the the dark cloud hangs above my head;

what am I to do?

Each day, it hides the smiling sun.

The sun rays shining through the clouds, bring forth a brighter day

But my day is like a thunderstorm

Faced with turmoils, and nowhere to turn

What do I have to do in order to see that smiling sun once again.

Patience my child tomorrow shall be a brighter day; so says the voice.

A Letter to you

Dear Blinded Eye

The Eye

The eye that refuses to see what is there. The eye that profoundly makes its own conclusion of what is there. To the eye that sees nothing but just blackness, to the eye that refuses to transmit messages back to the brain. To the eye that confuses the heart. To the eye that sees it’s own reality and forgets what was and what is. To the eye that refuses the reality presented to it. To the eye that don't see the signs of what is to be.