Karabelo Mofokeng

Fi Red

by Lehlohonolo Shale. Listening to Luciano in the mourning At the Khaya Corner Selling fruit&veg with a passion Fi Red Poetry at the corner Taxis hooting, mountains rising From the seers I heard Your passing, now dread Hustling with a passion for writing Poetry...

Burden

by David Mann.   Auguste Rodin. Marsyas (Torso of The Falling Man). Permission: Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) Image Library: www.lacma.org   for here there is no place that does not see you. You must change your life.– Rainer Maria Rilke It was a...

It has showered symbolically, just before

by Partha Sarkar.   It has showered symbolically. Has returned home the boat leaving The sultry warehouse. Has returned the necklace made of moonlit silver. Yet there is a skull in the wetland. Yet suffocates the silent embryo. ‘Be calm…be calm….’ A downfall in...

Our smiles

by Zolani Kupe. Our smiles Are a perfect Natural beauty Even though Our mouths Are like a Horse’s hooves.

So you lifted me up

by Zolani Kupe. So, you lifted me up Dusted and dressed me In the pinafores and Cardigans of this world. You made me feel Human again After I fell twenty floors From above. You turned me into A powerful living thing After I had been tricked Into the dark pits and Deep...

Relapse

by Thabiso Tshowa    “I am sorry, Nkele, but we ran the test several times. You can’t have kids,” said Dr Mosala with a grim face, seated behind her huge pine desk in her office. Looking at her wedding ring and the pictures of her, and her happy family, I...

To the comrades who are obscure

by Partha Sarkar. The afternoon is not grey – it is still bright. The day is gone but not lost. But gone are the words. The faces gone. Where is the warmth of those rendezvous? Long ago... evenings without fire, but with dreams. Mornings though foggy, brought the...

A Waiting Room

by Rory Kilalea.  Rhodesia is to become Zimbabwe after a bitter bush war. Britain has sent personnel to join the Commonwealth Monitoring Force to oversee a peaceful transition. This is a story from the time. # The waiting room was packed with women. Some with...

When fakes fly free, innocents suffer

by John Simon. Beneath one roof, he and I. A bloated clergyman bouting hay fever His stout figure nonetheless surviving Very well He taught me his history book: It was that of Oedipus and hell. Giving no love he expected none. Taking always he never helped, But...