When I'll Die
When I’ll die
When I’ll die
Please remember not to cry
Think of me as a metaphor of life
A gentle whisper, a lullaby
That children sang for their sleeping yawns
A giant pause for those who loved to live and laugh….
poem by Masa MbathaOpasha
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The Truth Of Love
The Truth Of Love
The truth of love is a sacred flame
That burns throughout eternity,
No one else can dull it down
Or change the hour of its destiny.
The truth of love rings its voice in tender tones
And listens to all with a gentle ear,
The truth of love yields with open arms
overcoming fear and doubts with inner light
The truth of love knows no harsh demands
Nor ever rules with binding will
The truth of love cuddles with soothing hands
The darling hearts of its embrace.
poem by Masa MbathaOpasha
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Beautiful Dreamer
BEAUTIFUL DREAMER
A flower quivers in the grass
A snail wanders across the path
They’re looking for your essence
The scent of a beautiful dreamer
The sun's look across the cities
Recalls memories of the departed
The snow-filled hills negotiate
With the eyes of a beautiful dreamer
Where have you been?
Who soaked your clothes with tears?
A word to heal embraces your name
To kiss and love a beautiful dreamer
Knowing anything is never enough
Feeling something is more than good
Perhaps it’s all one now, an amazing life
On the legendary face of a beautiful dreamer!
poem by Masa MbathaOpasha
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We Can Change
We are lucky to pretend we’re free
To be allowed to think and feel, subsumed
By the dirty business of living, summoned
By the need to know that we can change!
Our confusion foretells the confusion to come
Tomorrow’s brothel’s today’s Mosque, forgive
My castle of solitude, the silly sublimation of race
And empty fulfillments but we can still change!
Random nomadic pleasures, shy migrant joys
Of travelling faces from place to place, useless
Supremacy of dying dust, fierce illusions of eternity…
Yes, we can still change the colors of our dreams.
Dashed, bumped, from stress to stress outpaced by fortune
We run to reach the grounds of our riches, smilingly hoping
The heavens will never be weary of light, passionately singing
The note-less melodies of namelessness but we can change…
We can change the thoughts we’ll never think, the habits to die,
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poem by Masa MbathaOpasha
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Africa's Glory
AFRICA’S GLORY
I long for Africa’s glory
A story that swells from earth to sky
A deep slow liquid beauty
A spell of rest, a quiet breath, a jungle born melody.
I am in need of Africa’s glory
The magic of African gold on my fingertips
A diamond heart that sinks through fading colors of platinum
The richest continent in minerals, the poorest in human life.
They came and told us we could not own our lands
The Muslims ordered us to give everything to Allah
The Christians suggested to donate our possessions to God
Each taking everything for themselves, leaving Africa to die.
The world seems to ignore the origin of its wealth
The fretful riches, bitter tainted wonders of creation
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poem by Masa MbathaOpasha
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