Mr. Clover

by Omen Gapare

 

Mr. Clover

All he wore gun belts trapped around his hip
Flexing a button stick whip
Leather thongs bolstered onto his thigh
As he passed by, unnatural odour swept, nigh
I did not pay him no mind
For he jerked pressing his supremacy kind
All that bothered me how he called my name
Belittling the persona whenever he is to blame

Mr Clover

At intervals would look over my shoulder
Wishing if I could lift even the nearest boulder
To show my displeasure
Of the load exerted on me without measure
Still running, cutting all edges like an angry river
deep.
At night took a day’s audit, did shiver and sleep
Rivers move boulders
Egyptians built the Pyramids, boulders on shoulders

Mr Clover

He misrepresented the trinity
Reminded my kind of the ever eternity
Kept in this school till death
Hang on the fool to his wrath.
For years he painted himself white
Until now showing his rite
Preaching man to man marriage
A testimony of the divine miscarriage

Mr Clover!

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Myesha Jenkins – Tribute

Botsotso would like to pay homage to Myesha Jenkins, the poet and promoter of poetry who died on Saturday, 05 September 2020. Myesha was a founder member of Feelah Sistah, the all-woman poetry group that in its time made such an impact. Thereafter, she was indefatigable in organising and strengthening poetry platforms on radio and for live performance/readings. Myesha’s work was included in two Botsotso productions – the anthology Isis X and the recording Roots and Branches. Her spirit as a politically conscious, jazz-loving artist lives on and is well expressed in her seminal poem Autobiography which was included in both these projects.

Click here to read Autobiography, a poem by Myesha Jenkins.

A Call for Submissions: Johannesburg in Poetry