The Sower

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.

***

Lesson

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.

Poet: Born Bright

Image Credits: Free Bible Images

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https://twitter.com/MadzivaBright?s=09

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Two Bleating Kids

A blessed Sunday to you all. I hope you’re doing good and keeping safe wherever you are.

Today I have another piece to share with you, and as usual, it is an extract from that book of mine which is yet to be published.

Here is what my heart has picked for you:

***

Two bleating kids on the farmland
wander up and down in the forest,
mightily searching for their dear mother.

Climbing up and down the mountain,
they fondly miss those high moments
when they drained milk from her…

The day they escaped her womb,
it was her crying…
Now she has left;
they lament from dawn to dusk.

Two bleating kids on the farmland
wander up and down in the bushes,
but can’t find their dear mother.

Lesson

Crying is just a matter of time. We all tend to cry when fate changes tides.

***

Poet: Born Bright

Links to follow me on social media:

https://m.facebook.com/bright.madziva

https://www.instagram.com/bright_madziva/

https://twitter.com/MadzivaBright?s=09

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Fallen Apart

Good morning family. I hope you’re having a blissful morning.

As the day is going, how many of you have already started working on today’s objectives? Are you aware of unpredictable hindrances that may slow you down?

Whatever answer you might have, below is a poem extracted from my book as usual which touches on that. Take your time and delve into it…

***

Groaning harrowingly in bed,
Sweating like a cow in a slaughterhouse,
A poignant tug strikes his heart.

Staring at him with soggy eyes;
Eyes that evoke a piteous plight,
His loving brother holds him tight.

Confoundedly standing near the bed,
His ever-affectionate sister,
Gently spreads some pain-relief cream on him.

Nothing he can do except groan.
His mind obsessed, his soul tied up,
All his plans have fallen apart.

***

Lesson

Many times, we set our daily objectives, but they tend to be swept off by the unpredictable tornadoes that life brings forth.

Poet: Bright Madziva (Born Bright)

You can follow me on social media through the following links:

https://m.facebook.com/bright.madziva

https://www.instagram.com/bright_madziva/

https://twitter.com/MadzivaBright?s=09

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THE UNCANNY PICNIC

Part 4: The Breathing Grave

Spending all my time laying on the bed,
It feels like I’m living in an enclosed castle
Seeing blood come out every time I cough,
I can’t deny that I’m just a breathing grave

Fruits of all sorts displayed on my table,
Only my eyes can manage to feed on them
My taste buds no longer functional,
I’m left with only four senses

My memory now an unredeemable treasure,
I can’t remember how I got into this state
My brains totally drenched in confusion,
My intuition wallow in despair

Being called ‘a man’ is only a title now
For I cannot do what other men do
Neither can I do what women do
Because I’m just a breathing grave

If I could walk, it would be better
Maybe I could be a moving grave
Unfortunately, I can’t walk or talk,
So I’m just a breathing grave.

— Bright Madziva

THE UNCANNY PICNIC

Part 3: My Heroine

After groaning the whole day,
The situation turns bitter at night
Covering myself with warm sheets,
Nothing feels better but worse

Panting like a dog, I feel throttled
Every part of me in deep anguish
Sometimes I wish I could perish
Maybe the pain would relinquish

Everyone has given up on me
No longer useful, but only a poor
and burdensome valetudinarian
Waiting for nothing, except his day

Only one thing gets me going
No matter what I’m going through
She keeps the flower blooming
Because she knows, I’m her hero

— Bright Madziva

Good Enough

Everything I do
is as good as nothing
Whatever I say
is considered pointless

Every morning
I’m awakened by shouts
I wonder why they say
Joy comes in the morning

Sometimes I wish I could sleep
And never wake up again
I try to lift myself and carry on,
But the journey seems as if it’s too long

I’m just a tree by the roadside
I provide shade to everybody
But no one cares about me
No matter how good I am,
I will never be good enough

— Bright Madziva