NDABA SIBANDA - POEMS

Ndaba`s poems have been widely anthologised . Sibanda is the author of The Gushungo Way, Sleeping Rivers, Love O’clock, The Dead Must Be Sobbing, Football of Fools, Cutting-edge Cache: Unsympathetic Untruth, Of the Saliva and the Tongue, When Inspiration Sings In Silence 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 and Botsotso. 
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​What Used To Brew In Her Mind   

​Twirled, twisted with her all
Tittered past a care, a wall  
Rita rioted without regrets 
Sweet sunrises, sour sunsets 
She thrived in the twinkling 
Her close past was rankling 
Its reality, heavy & haunting
Its mental dances daunting  
Today no tempest brewed   
No hell, hurricane hovered 
She had to be solid, positive  
Detoxing was up & instructive 
Bright was her train of thought
Beauty of a tomorrow she sought 
It was hers, not about anyone else
She kicked the asses of nightmares     
Future nightmares not her business 
She danced a dance of freed silliness  
On her mind bravery bellowed its arrival
A previous poor park for this, that upheaval  

All She Wanted Was To Be Right ​

​her stories buried under an edgy chest,
they rioted, rumbled ,seeking to reach a crest 
inside her silences, her moments of aloneness
an interplay between her calms & their rowdiness    
though untold, they told and retold their sorry stories
of moments in time loved, lost into an ocean of memories 
she feared telling her best friend or her aunt that each time
he passed by or she caught sight of his photo, it was a crime 
she turned to her pillow for comfort but it was tough & tight
she wasted ages navigating a past that failed to make her right 

The Upshot Of A Honeyed Greeting 
​

Lungile—an epitome of beauty and guile,
walked up the staircase in grand style.

Her every step—her move, a class of its own,
she radiated charm and grace like the Sun.


As she reached the ninth floor her energy ebbed,
her gait weakened, a sense of exhaustion tolled.

Her ultimate goal was to get to the tenth floor,
but a dulcet hello and a missed step was her flaw! 

​

The Eyes Of A Visitor
​

An excursion to a …
Coastal southern African nation.
Eyes feasting on this country`s natural beauty,
Marveling at great rivers, waterfalls and scenic coastline.
Cruising through different climates, landscapes, cultures and colours,
Catching sight of the amazing Valley of the Moon and the Kalandula Waterfalls-
All the way to the Black Stones of Pungo Adongo before taking a rest at the Coatinha Beach,
The jaunt is not over till one visits the Bay of Luanda, Tazua Falls, Big Welwitschia and Luanda Island.                                                                                               

​

The Edge of Some Shrinking Shingle
​

The carriers say they cannot carry the cute zollars. 
How come? They must be kidding us. Our zollars!
Are zollars not as light as feathers? Come on, airlines.
You are better than this. Don’t you for a moment 
imagine how it is like to be a zollar. No global trips.  

No little reparation or moving out of the country
to hang out with other international currencies? 
Your hands are tied. You are bored. You are stuck.
They say you suck. You begin to feel like a sick alien.
Your dear countrymen deride you. Fake or f-what?


People call you names. Toilet paper. Unusable
dosh. Surrogate sheet. Who likes to be called
s-somethig? Put yourselves in their shoes for
a moment. Of course, they were sneaked in 
through the back door. But that is how it works!

Now there is the fear of the 2008 resurrection
to deal with. Would the infamous food items fly off 
the shelves again? Would bad airlines stay away?
Will emptiness ejaculate in the shops and banks?
Will poor cows be a medium of exchange? Stone age! 



​

Mabhonga

The herder was always in trouble. It was agonising and disturbing to see him
being at the receiving end of insults-- sometimes even kicks and blows. 

Melusi was a peace-loving keeper of Mabhonga, our gigantic and energetic bull.
We couldn’t have asked for a better cowherd in the entire world. He loved his job.

Mabhonga had amazing strength, stamina and aggression. He was just too wild
to spend a single night in the kraal and to graze with other family-owned cattle.

When Mabhonga fell in love and was on heat, he was unstoppable and insatiable.
He was an aggressive, jealous and noisy lover, too. No bull dared to come close.  

He loved and fought like crazy. Many a bull had lost a leg or had a scarred body
because of Mabhonga`s desirous and ferocious streaks. An infamous fellow.

Mabhonga would either leap over the kraal’s log-loaded wall or rip it apart
and invade a neighbour`s field to feast on the maize plants or groundnuts. 

The owners of such fields would vent out their ire on poor and helpless Melusi.
Mabhonga fuelled rancour and commotion but I wondered why he wasn’t sold.    



​

​he echoed her universe 

​in her series of thoughts
his dress code echoed
the colour , the shape,
the size, the heartbeat  
of ideal apparels & views  

the wind had blustered
away his pleased paths
but blind were her eyes
to the traces and lanes 
 left behind by others

for the walls of her heart
flung back the resonances
of his laughter and puns,    
the elegance of his strides, 
 the fragrance of his breath

his sound, his sweet tongue
had just quit and quietened 
it had deviated ,disappeared 
the one that had endeared 
itself to her heart and ears

it was like a sound wave  
that rolled with her grin
its echo was all the fun 
it was as rosy as the sun
a spirited echo, a lifespan

a resolute resounding 
her love was a reflection
of a rude, ringing eruption   
her affection found an echo
in his emotions, a silly sparrow