An empty kitchen by Witness Hamudi

No cockroaches on the floor

Or rats sneaking through the door

Only the buzz of an empty fridge

Stocked with bottled water about to freeze.

No aroma from previously fried chips

Only a drink too stench to sip.

The switch off cooker,

Listens to the sounds from some room, of a droning hover.

Taps run dry, belching stone dry air

And fires put up warming signs, “Don’t dare go in there!”

Some, sun fried on the window sill and mummified

A bread- bin shielding a crumb of cake long dried

That once broke the tooth of one roach.

And I had to bribe them all with goch goch.

It’s only this empty kitchen left

To be swept

Before the odds and ends are taken out home

Whilst rats, cockroaches and flies are already waiting to storm it.

Tomorrow by Witness Hamudi

Tomorrow awaits with splendor

In Her hands I will but rock,

With the oboe and the spinet, there is much grandeur

To be known and crowds to shake.

With each passing day there is

Something to write about: the breeze or the next door Miss,

Whatever may be consumable to their delight.

If well put, the feeling and the rhymes,

Together with the bell’s chimes.

Tomorrow may be another day

Which would lively sound bestow and gay

That is if I stick to the oboe and spinet

Or the stages like Peter Tenet.

Home sweet home by Witness Hamudi

We go out although far

Away from ma and pa

Away from the land that’s ours

For long journeying hours

We forget not the sweet

Of home, especially when people spit

Into our faces with hate and disgust

And at times being returned for mistrust.

They always trying to hammer out of us

Models, in alleys and in subway we pass.

Comparing them with us in the glass

There is one lucid difference only.

They comfortably sitting at home and we are lonely.

We bent our backs and toil,

Happy to lead our lives in turmoil.

We aren’t happy at all

But we can not let our economy fall

Tumble and break-

Some day it will be you

Enjoying the experience you will be going through

I bet I don’t hate

But pray: make a better world for you and for me

Night Birds by Tatenda William Mhlanga

Night draws closer with end day

Where they take over in hunt of prey

Night birds-exhausted they fly not

Parroting, they cry not

Smile a lot, squeaking,

Chattering, glittering

When the lights are more than dim-dark

When we the dogs that bark

Behind bars, try our luck

Not with our catapults loose

Misled is our target we miss,

In agony, them gliding, we can’t resist

Starring, like queens, but we as kings

Of unmeasured wit, defiant

Amused not of their deviance

To wander while others pray, misled

Skinny, blindfolded and lost

For hunger not to satisfy

Rotten flesh, disabled to gratify

Integrity-sweltering, for night birds of prey?

We long for fleshy birds of day.

FRIEND OR FOE by Witness Hamudi

Ignore the turning of a friend to a foe,

When you’re being proven a fool,

Their laughter when you fall off a stool,

Their frowning when you soundly chew

Or the loneliness you go through,

When you enroll in a new school

But ignore not when a foe turns a friend;

It may be true or utter pretense.

Ignore not the repentance

It may be to bind or slacken your acquaintance.

All other things you may ignore,

But not when you make a friend out of a foe.

lets just talk

You should talk I think,

If you don’t you stink,

No communication no link

From the colourless wine bottle you shall not drink,

In the wilderness of self torment, you shall shrink

Its better to speak out, don’t give me a wink.



Speak out your mind,

Then receive answers of many kinds.

No doubt, relationships you shall find,

Quietness is the worst sanctuary to hide,

Inside yourself nothing to confide.

Come out. Utter something and push this coyness aside,

And in the peace of mind you will abide.



It’s not safe to die in torment,

Your predicament becomes everyone’s consent

In dialogue, there is less disaffection to ferment,

There are always mistakes to correct,

Even problems to confront,

And a relationship to cement.







By Tatenda Mhlanga

DEATHDAY by Witness Hamudi

DEATHDAY

A grave there is somewhere out there

Where the cold eyes of mine stare

Whose sorrow night and day I share.

I used to with at least half my heart care

For the motionless one who lies in there,

The cold of winter wrapping around him

And the memory with time getting dim

But as always I’m reminded as well as being haunted

By my love’s Deathday

That has come to take away from the Birthday

Then how can I not imagine

The images that once pushed to the margin-

Of my mind being rekindled, coming back.

With love and fear I stand there and shake

Oh that day again!

That on mine heart leaves a stubborn stain

Of pain: remembering the grave

Down to which love I once gave.