this is it!

Rewriting. As writers we tend to get hung up on getting it right the first time, simply put. In fact, if you’re rewriting your opening chapter for the tenth time in the last three months, you need to do something: Go to the nearest ice cream store and treat yourself. Seriously, get the biggest chocolate […]

via If You’re a Writer, You’re Probably Making This Mistake — adoptingjames

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Winter Days (Poem)

Winter Days (Poem)

I know it will spring someday
but!
I want to dance joyfully in these moments
of impatient suns and scarce rainbows
Morning shivers moulding into new forms of greetings
permitting new pairs of wavy scarfs
to speak our minds
as we find comfort in drier skins

I remember perfectly winter days gone by
As little girls unable to count on the suns loyalty
we grew older than our sizes, brighter than our skins
Waxed flawlessly with petroleum jelly
concealing ‘magotsane’ on our chapped cheeks
So now,
As winter crystals nestle with my feet
I want to be reminded of all stories
told by grandmothers by the fire,
and i will treasure trails
of their merriment as ‘dipala’ on my thighs

I yearned for your mornings dearly tender and awakening
loaded with coffee kisses and chai tea embraces
untying frozen memories between a dreamer lips and a pencil led
And
As I pack away remains of broken promises
spoken under gentle summer skies
I will not miss the rainbow and its colourful lies

In winter nights
I want to be reminded of my lovers’ strength
when gloomy constellations and unfriendly temperatures
defeats our patience under burning candles
My soul will dance through warm breaths
Entombed between layers of sheets
As we create memories as sacred as pyramids

In winter
A season of falling leaves and dead flowers
I will hold on to twigs and stems unshaken
And dance around fires ignited on icicles
Before spring butterflies carry the ambiance away
When all things are new

Facing the Monster (Tribute to My late sister)

For me, in my calender, in my season, in this life since the 12.03.01, the Month of March (12.03) never ends without a tear, a sad thought or a sad occurrence, that being the case..I normally choose to let everything happen.I cease dreaming, I cease creation, I cease my smiles, I cease loving and being. I mourn til the 30th has passed..

 ”Death, as brutal and unwanted as it is, It engenders the right questions & reminds us that we are here today and gone tomorrow.It reminds us that voices that speak to us today, may be gone tomorrow. It reminds us that time does not have our favors and wishes at heart, the same way we might be respect him (time). Let us call him selfish…for now.Time does not wait.Whether we like it or not, everyday pushes us to our death dates, fearing or not fearing DEATH always shadows our skeletons. It side walks us everyday. Death reminds us that whether we digest or not, the principles of ”YOLO”, ”time is money” , ”the clock always ticks”,( and all other meaningful sometimes meaningless phrases), we are not in ultimate control of our lives.

There is God somewhere, whom for the longest time in the past 11 years I have always wondered if he really cared about me, or loved ones. Is there life after death and if there really is, what is the meaning of it all?Why should we be let to live and die in the end. Why should we cease existing, and smiling, and visiting these wonderful places. Why should we cease existing at all?

In perhaps the hardest of ways.I ACCEPTED, that i have been sad, for the longest time.I ceased being strong. That i have ceased discovering and living my joy. I have been jumping over puddles in the storm that swept between walls of our family and i missed the joy in the rain.

So i took a moment, i talked to people, i read the bible, i read blogs, I followed face book walls of deceased people to see what their friends and family thought of them. I watched documentaries about death, i attended funerals and i became MORE SAD.I allowed it and discovered all its corners. I found out that even in sadness, THERE IS JOY. There is joy, in living. Joy is not happiness.NO. Joy is spirituality, its inner peace than happiness and it cannot at any point escape your being.your soul.

I CHOOSE to live, with my sister IN ME.

This year coins have tossed.Say i grew?yeah maybe taller,fleshier and in spirit.The Month of March came as a blessing, many accomplishments, many activities, good people and places, few lessons and brand new joy. Hasn’t been too much of a hassle nonetheless. I took a trip to myself.. I explored a journey of discovery, a journey of finding inner joy and peace. I stopped blaming death, i stopped mourning too hard and feeling alone..

this poem, is the remembrance of my sister.Perhaps what she would have loved me to do many years ago.To find the joys she placed in me, before she left and to make a living out of them. To my Fallen Hero..these are conversations you spoke to me in my sleep. These are words you speak to memories you have built with us. These are words of my fallen HEROS. These are words of my late Grandfather Tefelo Phonchi, my late uncle Leungo Phonchi, my late bio dad Bojosi, my late cousin Bushi Phonchi.. and all those my tears have fallen for. This are MY words, my eulogy the time i fall.The time i DIE..

WHEN MY COFFIN CLOSES

When my coffin closes,

Speak of me as a woman

So long as my soul still lives

I will be insignificant but

Instead of body, call me words

Dance the soil for me

become the dust with me in

Ballet, mambo, or polka

so i could sleep on a familiar room

 

When my coffin closes

It will rain just a little.

Sail the rainbow with me in my sleep

When you stand by my grave and weep,

Listen to the shovel sounds and sand grains as

they bury my foot prints back to where I belong

Sing softly and dance

with my shadow joyfully on this mud

Reminiscing on our youthful times

 

When my coffin closes

It will be the end of me

Clothe your emptied souls brightly as crystal chandeliers

So I could see you, so I could sense your warmth

and I will smile.

I will rest affectionately

like rainbow roses laying on the mahogany casket

waiting for heaven doors to swing open for me.

As you silently throw red roses rightfully across my chest

reserve a petal for you

to reminisce all memories since collected

when we were one

 

When my coffin closes

Your hands will hold other hands, shaking,

afraid of asking

Or wondering why I decided to leave

 

Wonder not child,  I will be no more

My realities will be your dreams,

And dreams do not die

so

when my coffin closes

Remember me in you.

FIND ALL JOYS I PLACED WITH IN YOU..while i lived.Live on too,

March 2014 was AWESOME ❤

550339_10201095718134482_48805097_nI met your shiniest spots in my dreams.. Masego Gaamangwe Mogotsi.

MMAAGO LONE

1969-12.03.01

 

 

At our Eyes Closed (Poem)

AT OUR EYES CLOSED

1536649_10152123905722702_549278533_nAt our eyes closed

I stood still before you, gazing at honesty

Knitted on the silver linings of your skin inviting

us into a ceremonial dance of affection

into lovers dance

into cross paths

At our eyes closed, there is no day and dawn,

There are no alarm clocks and morning rooster crows

Just full moons and stars becoming ex-lovers

washed in rain and swept away by whirlwinds

to become other lovers lovers

We finally hold hands joyfully

exchanging sentiments encrypted boldly on finger tips

that forever ached to interlock without time

begging us to stop,

or to move on with seasons that passed

So 5 years later

We are trembling in between each others palms

pruning warmth from souls that wish to end together

At our eyes closed, I conversed with the poet in you

in a language that only ghosts would understand

We became skeletons between walls of your room,

trapped in peace like coffins beneath tombstones

I have danced with shadows of your pupils

On the hot silver sand,

where I have seen you write neon poems

With your toes concealing parts of us

that burnt with years that passed

At our eyes closed,

We crawled back into temples

that housed our bare bodies from tanning

Poems

we grew gardens from these

new and gentle

and honest

Remembering..

time

 

 

 

 

 

 

WELCOME HOME

Where really is this place that everyone runs to eventually, all the time because they are seeking comfort, and a sense of belonging?What is home?

When we were young, all we could think of at day time was play.We thought of our friends, and ball, our koi (skipping rope game) , dibeke (tin game) ”mmantlwane” or whatever that made our hearts tickle then. During these games, whenever we would fall, have an argument or feel uncomfortable with our dearest ones, we went home..to seek comfort.

When we finally experience other forms of relationships, through our teen age..varsity friendships, intimate friendships, work friendships, we make new homes. Home transcends the tangible place you have known when you were young. Home becomes dates, becomes nights out with friends.Home becomes movie watching, or star viewing with your soul mate..sometimes their chests and cuddles.Home becomes taking a walk in the university corridors with classmates, home becomes a little gossip corner before class time. Home transcends the notion of mum and dad at home..

In time Home becomes people, those who share certain memories you hold dearly. Home becomes those you have loved, and loved you back.Those you loved and never loved you back.Home become those who have hurt you so deeply, ones you wondered for too long if forgiving them was worth, and eventually did, because they meant a lot to you. Home becomes feeling grateful, inadequate, loved, betrayed, serene, and every sensation in between, sometimes all at once.

What really is home?

Home is a place that our feet leave, but our hearts will always stay.Home is a place that houses you.Pay attention to this..Every time you find yourself missing home, what is it that you reminisce about this place? What is so common about this place. Realize that, in all your homes, in all your networks connections,experiences and memories with your surrounding others there is always you. The truth is that home is You, and this being, SELF, you will never leave..

WELCOME HOME. 🙂

To The Women Who Choose Not To Have Kids

Sometimes it is not even the choice you make, it is of God..

Thought Catalog

To the women who choose not to have kids, I have one thing to say: thank you.

You probably don’t hear it enough. In fact, you probably don’t hear it at all. What you do hear is an array of pro-childbearing responses, such as, “You’ll change your mind someday,” or, “Doesn’t your mother want grandkids?” or, “You’ll never find a husband if you never want to have kids.”

All things considered, “thank you” is probably on the opposite end of what you hear.

But seriously: thank you. Thank you for recognizing that childrearing isn’t for you and being true to who you are. It doesn’t mean you hate kids. It just means that raising one is not part of your path in life.

Thank you for not succumbing to the societal pressures. I’ve known far too many parents who had kids because that’s what was expected of them. Working in…

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