"nkosi" poems
Hope, simply defined as a feeling of wanting something to happen and believing that it will.
A lot has been broken to shambles, in the name of hope.
Hope has become propaganda for the power hungry.
The corrupt feed hope to the people whilst they destroy all they lay their hands upon.
Principal systems use hope as a blinding face.
Is hope anything more than blatant desire?
Desire with an extreme expectation.
Desire to feel superior and needed.
Is it the desire to attain power regardless of what has to be sacrificed.
Hope is the fruit of religion.
Give thanks un to the lord, he will bless you with all your hopes and desires.
The leader's lifestyle is maintained by the suffering of the congregation.
Women and hope;
Inseparable entities.
Women hope.
We hope.
We hope to succeed.
We hope to wedd prince charming.
We hope to achieve the white picket fence lifestyle.
We hope.
Hope is a feeling.
Women are feelings.
No matter how many daggers have made her heart bleed.
She remains hopeful of Prince charming.
No matter how many babies she miscarries, she hopes the next one will be the blessing that lives.
No matter how many lies land on her ears.
She will find light where it does not exist.
No matter how many times she's abandoned, she remains hopeful.
Hope is a rope to disappointment.
...But someday: being hopeful will be the reason for all your bliss
Written by: Thuli Nkosi
Edited by: Minky
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 11:23 AM UTC
JUST NOT GOOD ENOUGH (first draft)
By: Nkhosinemusa Nkosi
July 2015
We all are afraid of rejection
Even if it was said without intention
We just want that attention
Even if it’s just a silly question
We fear losing people whom our heart loves
Like a flock of bewildered doves
I ask myself am I good enough?
But to answer that question who is good enough
We have been told several times we just don’t meet the standards
But to add a question to that statement, who sets the standards
We have been told that “we can never be together”,
Been told that “you cannot hold it together”
We find ourselves judging ourselves based on others
But sometimes you just don’t have to be like others
We find ourselves feeling sorry for who we are
But all we have to do is to be proud of who we are
We progress through life wanting to be better than someone
Whereas we should strive to be better than whom we were yesterday
We find ourselves in a situation where we want to conform to other people’s norms
But all we have to do is create our own norm
We should just start feeling pity for ourselves
And dust it up and empower ourselves
We should start living up to the standard that we also are just good enough
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 6:34 AM UTC
Hues of gold hug the horizon,
The air is heavy with the scent of a rainy day,
A pride of lions moves its limbs with a motion of might,
A motion of magic precedes the pack.
A dragonfly bounces along the river of relief,
The sun sets its final shimmer of sophistication
Behind the silhouette of a striking baobab.
A pocket of air holds the wings of the stork in a mathematical manner,
as it sweeps over of the plateau of promise.
South Africa,
A nation in progress,
Where each combination of skin tones each have a story to tell of its own,
a story of history,
a story of might.
Long live the pride of lions,
the Giants of our Rainbow Nation who sow seeds of sunshine in every corner of the soil.
Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika.
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 9:15 AM UTC
Jumping, bouncing and swinging from tree to tree
In a sparse forest just outside a village on the outskirts of Antananarivo
They adapt to the changes flung at them and strive to survive
On the ground a troop leaps sideways side by side in a straight line
What a comical spectacle
However solemn their purpose, they must find a home
The little one abaft of the line
Takes one last glimpse at the home he leaves behind
Oh it’s up in flames now and bulldozers knock down his trees
Beyond, just yonder
Over a hill further down south, the prospect is in sight
A new forest with new opportunities
It’s denser; it hasn't caught the eye of encroaching villagers
They forge on towards it in that spectacular procession
High up in the trees they mark their territory
Males call out to females and they howl in response
The young ones frolic in the underbrush
They mate, they eat, they thrive
Another forced migration
There they go again in that sideways march
More deforestation for infrastructure
There must be leeway for civilization one way or the other
One must wonder now
What future lies in store for these that have no place in government?
Their trails fade away from the Malagasy ecosystem
Their lives hang in a balance at the brink of extinction
Will our grandchildren ever get to appreciate
The extraordinary feats of agility they display
The gymnastics they perform from day to day
On the trees and on the ground in the jungle everyday
Ostentations of dramatic optical presentations
In their furry coats of monochromatic patterns
Perhaps they will disappear and my son’s sons may only get to
Read about them in the has been list of the annals of history
At this rate since erecting urban jungles
Of tar roads and skyscrapers is the order of the day
They might even be able to catch an obscure image of the lemur
In the form of a costumed trapezist mimicking one
Or a twisting contortionist in The Cirque Du Soleil
Nellie Nkosi
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 9:21 AM UTC
In the wake of Poseidon we live our lives
Tossed to and fro as ships on stormy seas
Where the stability of land is nowhere in sight
****** into an invisible vortex
We hover about in a Bermuda triangle
And suffer our delirium
Ha ha! One way or the other we align to the moon
Her pale face resembles our own as we wallow in the throes of her curse
An incongruent blend of sanguine and melancholy disposition
And the crux of it all is how we cordially board
The vessel that sets us sail into the treacherous waters
Where sirens sing us to gloomy depths of emotional turmoil
Nellie Nkosi
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 5:33 AM UTC
The day you slept I cried
I wonder why
My heart sat in my throat trying to choke me so I could sleep along with you
And yet while you lived I would have kept my distance
Kept far from your disdaining reach
Now I would have given anything to wrap my arms around your warm waist
To touch your smooth camel skin, trace my fingers on your cinnamon freckles
Or just stare into your hot brown eyes
And yet while you lived I would have kept mine lowered
Kept my gaze averted from your frightening glare
While you existed I cried
I think I know why
My brains boggled in my head wildly so I could be unhinged like you
It seemed uncanny how the powerful, fierce woman I once feared
Had now become just a frail, helpless shadow of herself
Still spewing malignant insults at me from her chaffed mouth
Cursing fervently with force that would bend me again to her will
In your weakness your words still crushed me
Orders barked from your sick bed jolted me
As if the strength would return and position you to punish me if I didn’t obey
When you lived I cried
I know why
My body stayed in a constant state of swelling, bruising and wounding
So I could be scarred like you
It didn’t matter that I was innocent and needed your love
Only fist punches, metal rod lashes, finger nail pinches
Sometimes hair pulls, palm slaps, boot kicks and back hands
On better days the odd berating in public would do the trick
Yes, this was the only kind of love you had for me
The kind to pound me into the ground
Well now you’ve long been gone
All that you broke down in me, I’ve rebuilt
With tears and hunger and shrinking
The scars have healed and I’m whole
The love you withheld, I have found in myself
Nellie Nkosi
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 9:19 AM UTC
Above all logic are your ideals
Beyond reality are your philosophies
Your mind yearns for what is not
Only the surreal is what you see
When will you forsake this guilelessness?
The serpents bite you blatantly
As if the flocculence of the flowers
Did not contrast with their suspicious scales
How are you such a walking tragedy?
Blindside after blindside has been dealt you
And still impending affliction awaits you
Because your feet tread where angels would not dare
The light of wisdom points your way
But you falter sightless in the mystic darkness
That is the cloud of fog wherein your head is suspended
Day dreams of knights armored in shining amour
Riding in to save your battered bleeding heart
Might not unfold my dear
Remember that the knight may be another pillager
And his slick armor just another Trojan horse
Nellie Nkosi
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
If night falls while my eyes are still fixed on your back
And wanting to trace my fingers lightly against your broad shoulders
Is it wrong
When I swell between my thighs
At the mere sound of your voice calling my name
Am I hedonistic if I yearn for your chiseled cheek to rest on mine
Is this asking for much
How long should I wait for you to hear my keening songs
Of how I need you to need me in the tormenting way that I do
Just as the moon pines in daylight for the night to caress her glory
Do you know that I long for the night so you can ravage my decency
The way I would like to scream and squirm
Beneath your hard embrace
I want you to know what agony my body knows
Will you succumb to the pressures I apply
And unravel before me as you have unraveled me
Tell me if you will leave me wanting and grasping at nothing
Or will you hand yourself over and let me tear at you
While you intoxicate me with your venom
What will you do when I want you
Nellie Nkosi
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 7:41 AM UTC