tichaona chinyelu
-
3 of my poems were selected for publication by The Moxie Bee! Head on over there, check them out, leave some feedback! TMC
-
Today is my son’s 12th birthday. 12 years! Time flies and flies! Motherhood has, of course, changed me…for the better. Over the years since I’ve become a Mother, I have seen a lot of things that assault what it means, for me, an African woman who is consciously single, to be a Mother. Be clear,…
-
i. discordant never/ polyrhythmic like life we were/ in the beginning/ many feet make many sounds we took the tree and made it talk/ a jungle of sounds we produced everyone for miles around heard it gravitated towards it then strangers came chanting like gregor tolling the bell like igor creating a cacophony a frankenstein…
-
Before 16 bars imprisoned words, before rhymes were as predictable as a cop’s nightstick upside your head, my pen positioned itself in the continuum of black words. Shaka Zulu and Uhuru are the main threads of my weave so there’s no need for me to loom larger than sacred life. I’ll leave that to you…
-
I don’t normally incorporate poetic forms in my work but having come across the form of the cento, I thought that sounds interesting. I flipped through several books to pick the words that would form the basis of the piece. The lyricism of Eduardo Galeono’s trilogy Memory of Fire fired my imagination the most for…
-
Earlier today I was hit with the desire to post a blog but I had no idea what to write about. I inquired of my resident expert “What do you think I should blog about?” but then we got busy getting him to the barbershop and then school. Errands were needed to be run. A…
-
My bed is full of ashes ghosts and fingers that creep like vines. I, limbless perambulate the contours of a dream that approaches a nightmare. I am home and horizontal.
-
forty-six years of diaspora living and finally, i see myself again. forty-six years of living and i refuse to apologize anymore unless i am wrong and wrongness always has a personal and a political component so goodbye, good riddance and good luck. i loved you once. honestly. as freely as i could i loved you…
-
The funkiness of fun absolution from writing what seems to be yesteryear. thoughts and memories, the heart and science mingling, interbreeding casting aspersions on the culture somehow still deemed sacrosanct ii echoes of theory resonating in the inner ear and the third eye three hundred and sixty degrees of consciousness includes ascension to humanity still,…
Tichaona Chinyelu 
You must be logged in to post a comment.