Poems by Ndaba Sibanda
Sibanda is the author of Cabinet Meetings, The Immigrant With A Difference, Notes, Themes, Things And Other Things, The Gushungo Way, Sleeping Rivers, Love O’clock, The Dead Must Be Sobbing, Football of Fools, Cutting-edge Cache, Of the Saliva and the Tongue, When Inspiration Sings In Silence, The Way Forward, As If They Minded: The Loudness Of Whispers, This Cannot Be Happening: Speaking Truth To Power, The Dangers Of Child Marriages: Billions Of Dollars Lost In Earnings And Human Capital, The Ndaba Jamela and Collections and Poetry Pharmacy. His work is featured in The Anthology House, in The New Shoots Anthology, and in The Van Gogh Anthology, and A Worldwide Anthology of One Hundred Poetic Intersections. Some of Ndaba's works are found or forthcoming in Page & Spine, Peeking Cat, Piker Press, SCARLET LEAF REVIEW, Universidad Complutense de Madrid, the Pangolin Review, Kalahari Review, Botsotso, The Ofi Press Magazine, Hawaii Pacific Review, Deltona Howl, The song is, Indian Review, Eunoia Review, JONAH magazine, Saraba Magazine, Poetry Potion, Saraba Magazine, The Borfski Press, Snippets, East Coast Literary Review, Random Poem Tree, festival-of-language and Whispering Prairie Press.
Sibanda has received the following nominations: the national arts merit awards (NAMA), 2016 Mary Ballard Poetry Chapbook Prize, The Best of the Net Prose and the Pushcart Prize.
Links
https://www.amazon.com/Books-Ndaba-Sibanda/s?rh=n%3A283155%2Cp_27%3ANdaba+Sibanda
https://www.pagespineficshowcase.com/ndaba-sibanda.html.
https://ndabasibanda.wordpress.com/2017/03/26/first-blog-post/
Bulawayo's Benediction
if ever there was a beautiful
brook, then she is the one
she is a brook whose waters
are destined to deal once
and for all with Bulawayo's
perennial droughts & dupes
our royal city has a capacity
to produce game-changers
and Busisiwe is one of them
Busisiwe is Bulawayo's pride
a philanthropist whose work
speaks a lot about her love
for humanity and the city
what lurks within her soul
is not a malady but a melody
exemplary is her track record:
orphanages, scholarships, jobs
a sleaze-buster, a bold builder
of homes, hopes and horizons
her song is a doer and a dancer
hers is a song that plays & floats
within the depth of her heart
it inspires, stirs, and galvanizes
hearers to become nothing
else but heirs and heiresses,
humble heroes and heroines
what dances within her heart
are the metaphors and mirrors
of souls whose lives & dreams
and destinies have been touched
& transformed & blessed for posterity
her name solely means The Blessed One
a selfless beauty, she is a blessing to the city
a superwoman, she is human, solid & afloat
for Bulawayo's blues to be overcome, ownership
has to be reclaimed, concerted efforts applied
as far as Busisiwe is concerned, sleaze has no home
in the city if residents want it to be magnificent again
Poet Laureate Consultant Of Mthwakazi
I had shrunk in the noises of a slighting silence,
However, when the King of Mthwakazi appeared,
he pointed at the sun and its rays regally poured on me
like a shower, and I started to feel home and honored;
He also pointed at a cute clock and an array of chiefs.
.
There was a constellation of stars, like local
footballers, movie directors, socialites, authors,
educators and motivators. There was a galaxy of
award-winning actors, sportspersons and journalists.
I saw icons and great thinkers. What remarkable talents!
There was a throng of human rightists, a bench of
uncaptured judges, a flock of religious folks and culturists.
There was a diaspora of people who worked and lived
in South Africa, Botswana, Namibia, Australia, US, UK,
New Zealand and several different parts of the world.
There was a regiment of activists, there was a swarm
of feminists and legislators. There was a troop of soldiers
and there a wave of police officers. There was a huddle
of elderly women and men, and a busload of singers and
dancers. Indeed, there was a lovely troupe of entertainers.
There was a band of musicians that belted out divine music.
The King showed me a host of editors and readers who were
keenly watching the proceedings virtually, waving at us.
On Zoom, I saw the new Mayor of Bulawayo, she was waving
at me with her assemblage of excited, charismatic councilors.
I saw eminent radio and TV personalities, TV script writers
and famous playwrights. The King was moving around with me,
with his entourage of advisors and security personnel, and a legion
of diplomats and officials from neighboring countries. I caught sight
of a nexus of my family members and relatives. I was speechless.
Some women wore headbands, thick knee-length cow-hide skirts
or short skirts made of grass or beaded cotton strings, necklaces,
beaded high heels or cute crotchet sandals or beaded sandals,
yet men wore animal skins and feathers, clusters of a cow's tail
on the upper arm and underneath the knee, rubber batata sandals.
“There’s a mass of people from all walks of life, there’s a multitude.
This is a momentous occasion. All these people have gathered here
to honor you. Yes, you,” emphasized the King who wore ostrich feathers,
a leopard skin, a front apron and a rear apron or ibhetshu. He talked
about the restoration of values and dignity. I was stunned and confused.
The cheerful, revered and good-looking King took me on a tour
along Nkululeko road until we marched into an august building.
“This is our parliament”, said the King as I admired the scent
emanating from an entrance draped in a variety of superb trees
and flowers. What a parliamentary chamber, what a monument.
I marveled at its design. The architecture had a traditional touch
to it with a spear-shaped ceiling that shimmered with 30 000
aluminum panels. Its interiors were simple, yet colorful, delightful
and powerful. The circular space adorned with the statues of King
Mzilikazi and King Mambo, signified the history of a new nation.
The King continued,” Piker Press calls you a Prophet of Liberation. Do you have a pen
name? Do you sometimes publish under a different name?” I responded promptly,
“Bhija Jamela. I inherited that name from my grandpa. ” He smiled, “Great. We‘re
gathered here to appoint you as an officer of the royal household. As the Poet Laureate
of Mthwakazi, you’ll promote the reading and writing of poetry nationally”. What a vision!
I placed your precious pot
on the hot plate promptly
when poetry said: please
I pronounce my presence
it's private, it's personal
I placed your precious pot
on the hot plate promptly
when poetry said: please
pitch away poor or prized pots
and pen poems on priorities
when your food finally cooks well
celebrate and accept my stunned joys
but if it burns into glowing embers,
please probe your pot and never ever
pronounce poetry the puerile perpetrator!
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