A blessed morning to you, family. I’m so sure that in this morning your soul is dancing in glee as you have been granted the chance to be part of 2022, regardless of the battles you faced along the way. As this year unfurls, I dare you all to guard your happiness. Here is my new year gift for you:
It only breeds if shared. Like a talent, if concealed beneath the ground, it won’t manifold.
If coming from a sincere heart, It doesn’t cost anything; It’s a perennial stream flowing in the garden of love.
If planted on fertile land, well it grows and many fruits it bears; it can feed a thousand souls.
Thank you for taking your precious time to read this. Stay happy and be blessed throughout 2022 and even beyond.
Well. I, myself, am fine and grateful for this life God has granted me at zero subscription.
Even though I have been silent for the past weeks, I still had you at heart and that’s why I have decided to share another poem with you today.
Here it is 😊:
A blessing from God, which if not planned for may be a curse; A matter of achieving the best out of the least Only made bearable by execution rather than idle theorising it is.
Happier it becomes when you forgive When you bar the past from defining your present When you bury everything in unfathomed depths When you extend kindness and love to everyone; Even to those you claim don’t warrant it.
Unpredictable it is; But it offers the best shots that can escape like wafts – if not contained.
It’s simply a blessing to be alive, but if misused, that blessing ends up being a lifetime curse.
Poet: Born Bright
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A blessed morning to you all. I hope you are doing your best in keeping yourself warm. Well, today I’m giving you another piece to help you refuel your tank as you work towards achieving your goals. Here it is:
As the sun cut the eastern horizon, I saw him walking down a dusty path Carrying a shovel and a pick on his shoulders Then I thought, maybe, he’s a miner
Just as he approached the big tree He stopped and froze for a while He took off his hat and also his coat, He began to dig, sinking down. Then I thought he’s seeking some treasure
People of different ages passed by, Gazing at him with a contemptuous look. Some even stopped and jeered at him And he thought he was the master of fools So he packed up his tools…
The next day, just after dawn I saw him walking down the road again But he had no tools with him. Upon reaching the pit he had dug, He yawned and laid torpidly on the ground.
Hours later, the barking dogs woke him up And he thought he was day dreaming It was only after pinching himself, That he realised the moment was real; the hidden treasure had gone.
Whatever you are doing, never get tired of holding on. Never offer attention to what the world says. You might be just an inch away from finding your fortune.
Good morning dear family. Much care and warmth from me to you as usual. This week’s poem is a bit lengthy but worth reading. So please take your time to delve into it and make sense of every line. It goes as follows:
I met him by the foyer, carrying a bag of seeds I had never seen. He is a man of God, I thought And so did my friends, as we gave him a place.
Seeds everywhere! No land was left unsown Seeds all over! Everyone was hoping for good.
Was this the restoration of lost hope? Or the commencement of a new life? No one knew the truth except for him.
As the rains poured, All seeds germinated in every place Growing and leafing at a galloping pace. That in no time we were feasting…
But, alas, a great war arose; Melees and rows uprose. Scrolling the pages in my mind, Something popped; The sower was no man of God.
Be careful who you accommodate in life. Some people wear nice masks only to get your acceptance and trust, but their mission would be to steal your happiness and and stir confusion amongst you.
Rising Poetry artist Bright Madziva speaks hard truth to earthly sin and evil. His verses are a bitter pill to swallow for those who use violence as a way of silencing dissenting voices. The Poet defiantly spews vitriol at political decadence and moral nudity that has since gripped the land of his birth. He sings his bold poetic hymns to innocent daughters lost in dungeons of quandary whipped day and night by thrashes poverty. His brave and truth rimmed imagery raves the hearts of crime-less sons roasting in ovens of violence and hunger. He wields his sharp poetic scythe to weed out dare- devils and their evils from the land that was once upon peaceful and was once the Canaan of Africa, the wordsmith like he is, bemoans the demise of freedom and the death of peace. Africa Writers features this mason of truth with pride that Africa still gives…
Life is comparable to rhythm It goes through phases and stages consisting of sweet and bitter moments One would conclude that life is good If they are living it to the maximum The next day you would hear them say “Life is not fair at all” Only because they’ve experienced misfortunes
Not all dreams do come true in life Some are shattered as we grow up Others vanish because of our choices Some people would regret over their professions All such thoughts come due to bad experiences Others think marriage is a solution to life problems Unfortunately, this has left many crying
When life becomes tough, just tell yourself You are in a phase that will definitely pass Going uphill means the next step is downhill Life is a pattern, so it changes The only thing that doesn’t change Is the philosophy of change itself