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Poetically Zambia's Heartbeat

"Mending Broken Hearts, Since 1997"

W e l c o m e B a c k T o Y o u

 

Lost,
Like a penny in denims, torn
Like a loved one
Like a young one just born.
Found,
Like faith,
Like the reason to believe
Like hope,
Like the beauty of relief.

In the writing you were relegated to the shelf
Read through your pages couldn’t comprehend yourself
But slowly surely you have rewritten your tale,
Welcome back to you.

Broken,
Like a heart
Like one shattered into pieces
Like chards of glass cutting through veins
Forgotten,
Like a scar
Like those that brought pain
Like the memories
Like those of a childhood friend

In the igniting you torched somebody else
Put out with water couldn’t reignite yourself
But slowly surely you have rekindled your flame
Welcome back to you.

T w o F o r T w o

B y & B y
Art by second name is beauty
Art by first as illuminated by you is poetry
By unworthy lips cannot be called
By unfit minds cannot be thought
For your allure men will slave
For your endearment my pen will curve
To swathe you in prose when your day gets cold
To upheave your feet when the ground can no longer hold
And as the doves do you will levitate
And your beauty is deserved by those who meditate
So to the god’s of the stars I plead
So they understand this world’s wholly need
Is a peach of glamour to which you lend
Is a sight of hue which to the blind can mend
If the day never comes for your fairytale
If the night never comes when your dress is all they tell
Let them be deaf in their mindlessness
Let it be known they’ve been adorned by poetic finesse
Have they any idea what it means ?
Have they ever been penned for like a poet does for the girl of his dreams ?

G u i t a r

 

Let’s make music
We needn’t say words
We needn’t learn physics
To fathom the speed of sound
We don’t need lyrics
To a melody our hearts can hum
And we will play,
We will play,
Until these strings snap
And the songs in us fall apart
Until then, we will play,
We will play,
Until the strings in our hearts
Can no longer be plucked
For these vibrations are our wings
And we stay afloat the rhythm of these strings
In our youth we will sing to the moon
As we dance the steps to life
This will be our tune
You decide which strings to pull
And No matter the sound
I will always, pick, you.

The Kuno Gallery

As an African, I constantly hold pride in local creative talent that shows passion and uniqueness. I’m no pro art curator but owning an art gallery has always ben a future goal for me + a tea…

Source: The Kuno Gallery

P A G E A H E A R T

As it ended it begun.

This page no longer beats for you,
The blood in this pen no longer writes for you,
My emotions are not a roof to keep you from the rain,
Of your own drowning tears,
My affection is not a sedative for your pain,
Your love is no longer welcome here,
Because you treated mine as your shoe cloth,
Treaded on, discarded and disarrayed,
The space in my heart can house us both,
But you cannot decide in which room you’ll stay,
My mind is a turf of green,
But not on which for you to play,
Now you wish of what could’ve been,
But the night-skies are painted in moulds of grey,
And so the shooting stars remain unseen,
This heart no longer reads for you,
The ink in my veins no longer flows for you.

As begun it has ended.

T i m e & D i r e c t i o n

Oftentimes, it’s hard to choose a path
Where do you go?
Take a left where nothing’s right ? Or
Step to the right where nothing’s left ?
It matters not where you turn
Either route, embellished with dissatisfaction
A journey known by your heart
But to your mind is foreign
Where we go? With whom we walk?
Those answers are your life’s passage
Your starting point is sanity
Each step away is insanity
A step back is cowardly
Pausing is stagnancy
How much farther ?
Fearing judgement we keep moving
Whether or not it’s the right direction
Wrong or right we do not mention
Left or right was the first decision
Direction, a factor of affection.
Time, once lost, cannot be regained
This is the golden rule
The hands will always bare a clockwise rhythm
Raw seconds, minutes and hours our mere tools
The ones, that ripen into years
Should our maturity be judged by age?
And hearts be consumed by rage ?
Page by page, day by day
The sun will rise, the sun will fall
Our spirits will dance In the afterglow
Our souls are carried by ants below
Who we spend hours with?
Planing for years
That’s our definition of time
Pain growing, months of silence
In discomfort but patient
How much longer?
Running out of time
Yet the majestic ambler
What we’ve lost, we cannot recover
For our delay we must suffer
Time, a factor of affection.

Where do we lie? without a path
Time can heal the wounds of hearts
Let the truth be your compass
And your heartache be your watch
This is my conclusion
Intermittently, time and direction
Are fundamental factors of affection.

image

Shutter Sounds, Lens focusing, Pen scribbling, Trashed papers, Subtle Poetry Still moments & Amateur Photography, That’s What I Live For.

/ /

We ran through hate
And strolled into love
Corresponding in length
Equidistant in sentiments
Alongside the difference
Never altered
Constant through slopes and curves
Seasons changed, cool winters
Became delightful sunny noons
Over the hills and into the morning dews
The planet was ours, as was the moon
Space bound, our love would be soon
Across the world as latitudes
Equity in reciprocal gratitude
Our afterglow shone in the skies
“Step by step”, “you and I”
The duo motives we knew
Each moment side by side
Only but an inch apart
Right next to each other
But so far from together
Let alone, forever
Just two lines running discrete
Devoid of promise to meet
Such was our fate
What we had ?
No one can relate
The shine of our joy ?
No two can reflect
How much we wished ?
Untold depths of wells
Our tales ?
No other mouth can tell
What kept us apart?
Only our hearts can spell
because you and I,
were and will,
always be parallel
We were just pals
That spoke like lovers
And that was adequate
For two teenagers
Too afraid to love one another!

African At Heart

I’m a lion at heart
My heart beat is one with the drum
As red as the point struck by a dart
At night fall, my tales will start
I will dig the sun, till the light is mine
Love will hurt, pain is prime
Life is a path, I walk with bare feet
Hot is the ground
I was raised not to succumb to heat
Famine, hunger and war
Suffered by those who lived before
Our Ancestors, defined as pagans
By those who docked with the bible
Verses paved way for bullets
But our souls were bulletproof
Kings fell, Chiefs bowed
The land was lost and the strong cowered
The rebellious were killed and overpowered
We became our shadows
And our shadows became us
What was once ours, eventually theirs
And now
I am because they were
I am because you are
Rain patterns understood in line with the stars
Survived terrors of beasts, stories are scars
Blood centuries old runs in me
Slavery was never the African story
Slavery was an attempt to chain the African story
With a poisoned arrow
And a carved bow
I will aim and shoot until my view will blow
I lurk in patience, awaiting my call
To show the world an African heart was made to roar
Above all troubles my people will soar

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