 Sibanda is the author of Love O’clock, The Dead Must Be Sobbing and Football of Fools. Ndaba Sibanda`s work is featured in The New Shoots Anthology, The Van Gogh Anthology edited by Catfish McDaris and Dr. Marc Pietrzykowski, Eternal Snow, A Worldwide Anthology of One Hundred Poetic Intersections with Himalayan Poet Yuyutsu RD Sharma scheduled for publication in Spring/Summer 2017 by Nirala Press and Seeing Beyond the Surface Volume II. Boyhood And Victimhoodboisterous boys in an act of mudslinging sibling rivalry are roughhousing around in naivety they bully and bury their differences violent men in charge of countries and armies are different from those sharing a raucous radio panel discussion they invent self-defense mechanisms lies and farcical foes and fools and play victim to their drama When A Howl Becomes HandyHlengi was behind the wheel Voiceless, visualizing a deal Her fingers frail, itching For a windfall, a fine find Famine had been her friend Her downfall for a long time Her hopes hurt by haziness And people`s deceitfulness She had become strain`s Playground and internee She had to hustle, to act Debt dated her every day Negotiating a sharp bend Her eyes were caught by Something that froze her A gun was pointed at her! She knew she was a kill His game, if she defied She braked the vehicle With a jerk, unsure, unsafe An idea capered around in her Head, on the face of it was folly Anger and anxiety spinning Out of control, she yowled “I`m a magic mermaid-trained Nyanga. Let me teach you aaaa….!” Unease eased into the captor For he fled the scene like a fly! Those Must FallFetch your tools, let us march and avert further damage Our gardens are under siege, their greenery despoiled They are marching, moving en masse as they raid and ruin They devour just about everything in their wake, in their path Fetch your tools, let us march and avert further damage These destructive pets have no shame, silly insect armies! Look how they are active at night, attacking our crops and grass During the day, wriggling, hiding under our garden rubbles! Come, let us take a closer inspection of our plants and prospects Look at the armyworm eggs, let beneficial insects feed on them! Set our caterpillars on them, hashtag: harmful little predators Tell our farmers to take to twitter and twit: armyworms- must -fall A Solid Past She felt the fire As heat surged higher It was tasty and tactile Its flames vocal and visual Like a blind lover, her passage was tough His love was designed to be perceived by touch Her concrete care enabled him to be her part And feel the warmth and bigness of her heart It had a rare palpability, a pleasant presence But now its presence is a memory, an obsolescence For All Time`s Sakethat`s Sir Phuzile on a Friday his noise knows no boundaries offloaded on the earth`s eardrums every sane soul within earshot drowns under its rubble of intoxicants and toxicants tonight his kids might have to retreat into their rooms for the sake of their peace of mind and normality of ears attached are their staggering dad`s PDF files of silly soliloquies his head is emailing horror to his family in place of hoorays of union how will they format his virus-ridden USB of foul words and breath? somebody needs to delete his uploaded files of threats once and for all Never Mind ThemA few months ago Thathawena made a vow
She looked for the highest hill and made a roar Never ever will I ever tuck into any kind of meat Never ever will I wear a high heel, was her swear Everybody said: vegetarian, do your stuff, no sweat Found chewing chicken, cheating on her diet: how dare! That Friday her high-heeled shoes looked exclusive & precarious Revelers’ roars of criticism meant nil, her dish wasn’t mysterious
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