Poetry
-
La Guerre V O sweet spontaneous earth how often have the doting fingers of prurient philosophers pinched and poked thee ,had the haughty thumb of science prodded thy beauty ,how often have religions taken thee upon their scraggy knees squeezing and buffetting thee that thou mightiest conceive gods (but true to…
-
La Guerre IV little ladies more than dead exactly dance in my head,precisely dance where danced la guerre. Mimi à la voix fragile qui chatouille Des Italiens the putain with the ivory throat Marie Louise Lallemand n’est-ce pas que je suis belle chéri? les anglais m’aiment tous,les américains aussi…”bon dos, bon cul de Paris”(Marie Vierge…
-
La Guerre III the bigness of cannon is skilful, but i have seen death’s clever enormous voice which hides in a fragility of poppies… i say that sometimes on these long talkative animals are laid fists of huger silence. I have seen all the silence filled with vivid noiseless boys at Roupy i have…
-
La Guerre II earth like a tipsy biddy with an old mop punching underneath conventions exposes hidden obscenities nudging into neglected sentiments brings to light dusty heroism and finally colliding with the most expensive furniture upsets a crucifix which smashes into several pieces and is hurriedly picked up and thrown on the ash-heap where likes…
-
I’ve never a writer who is technically proficient in my chosen form: poetry. I’ve taken a couple of poetry classes. The main thing I remember from them is my word choices for a sestina exercise. My classmates came with serious pieces. Me? My sestina was based on song titles from The Beastie Boys’ Licensed to…
-
I weave words like a west african market woman selling you my vision, my mangoes, my papayas, even my coconuts. My finished product can be held up to the sun, illuminated, made to shine. The skins of my poems have been submerged in mud then laid at the bottom of the baobab tree to dry…
-
I was on Goodreads early this morning and saw a poem by ee cummings that was absolutely lovely. Possessing as I do E.E. Cummings: Complete Poems, I went in search of it. It’s one of a 5 part poem called La Guerre. I will post one part of the poem each day for the next…
-
the women wet the waterfront with womb water delivering twin coral children whose ceilings are fluid and permutable. he is one. i am the other. brother and sister who knew our selves before brackishness and the rift caused by the damming of the river. she and i, twin occupiers of our mother’s womb. the hierarchy…
-
1. The Cane Fields There is a parrot imitating spring in the palace, its feathers parsley green. Out of the swamp, the cane appears to haunt us, and we cut it down. El General searches for a word; he is all the world there is. Like a parrot imitating spring, we lie down screaming as…
-
i stare at the water. i walk around it. i stare at the water inside. i am bleeding. my water mixes with the water. i am drowning. i ripple like sunshine in the water. i am heated hot enough to be food for fish except they like it cold. i go down deeper. i used…
Tichaona Chinyelu 
You must be logged in to post a comment.