Father & Son Standing in Soup Kitchen Line & Other Poems by Anthony Mondal

July Online Open Mic

On this sparkling Sunday afternoon, we have the serene poetry of Anthony Mondal! Delve into the flow of his words and the stories that he creates to edify your day.

Father & Son standing in soup kitchen line

The defeated, the down and out, the forgotten,
They all have gathered, on a wintry Sunday night
To feed the belly’s hunger fire, and escape the plight.
In the crowd of people you see, A father and son, restless and uneasy.
Quickly you observe, they there don’t belong.
But something somewhere, must have gone wrong.
Eight to nine, must be the boys age barely he understands not why?
His playful carefree days are over so suddenly.
He had a warm home, he had a loving mother.
Now all is lost and gone forever.
Some say because, the lost job took a toll on his father.
And others say, he is an addict and, a gambler.
Many questions run thru his young mind.
To which he can’t any answers find.
In great fear he clutches, his father’s arm
Hoping he will protect him from all harm.
The hostile world walks by indifferent.
His tear stained face, has yet to lose its innocence.

And another boy, the mean streets of life is hungry to swallow.

The Death of a Plant

Sitting in the corner, upon the ledge
looking gloomy, looking sad, very much on the edge
Weeping in grief
For want of sunlight and fresh air brief,
Leaves, they are stained with oily grease
The poisonous fumes, makes life unease.
Surrounded by tools and machineries of all kind.
Not to mention, the people devoid of hearts kind.
Cold and damp is the room temperature
Where things delicate, have no place, no future.
Slowly but surely toward death it proceeds.
Only to be replaced, by another plant indeed.
Uncared for, unwanted, suffering torture endless.
It will also follow thru, the same bloody cycle, more or less.

Yet it was only yesterday
In a garden full of mirth and joy
Tended they were, with much love and care
By a Kind Gardener Dear.

One Day by the Pier

The rolling waves, gently dashing
Against the wooden pier.
Sea-birds circling, high above my head
Their beautiful symmetry, with grace displayed.
And the infinite blue sky dome
With not a trace of clouds, there roam.
Falling rays of sun on the water surface glitters
Beckoning me to a world of treasures deeper
Immersed I was in my tranquil day dreams
Lost I was in space and time it seems.

But just for a while!
Then the ear shattering growl of the helicopter
All my finer moments, made disappear
Left I was, only, with the sounds inharmonious
Of a bustling busy metropolis.
Who like a sultry mistress attracts
The faithful husband’s devotion distract.

The 12 Foot Journey

Grey ugly looking birds swoop down on the grass,
right beside my tin hut.
They are busy hunting insects in the tall grass.
Then I observe this one insect
trembling and shaking crawling to safety.
Crossing the concrete path to the other patch of grass.
It must seem like one hell of a journey or crossing
from the bug’s point of view.
If not now, but in few hours time or may be even tomorrow….
The bug will find a place in the bird’s stomach.
Us humans also we cross lakes, deserts, mountains and oceans
To find that perfect place of nestled peace and tranquility
Only to be rendered homeless……. Again and Again.

© Anthony Mondal 2018

Approaching Fall Quatrain

The cold Northern front arrives at my window
Late at night, the air is chilled
I reach out in the dark and switch off my fan!……

…… And the crickets resume their singing.


Anthony Mondal is a poet, novelist and actor. He considers himself simply as an artist beyond the confines of nationality and religion. He proudly calls himself a citizen of the world. His most recent book of poems was titled A Burst of Sunshine, which is his second published book. He lived in New York City for almost ten years pursuing writing, acting and song writing – well, then he had a breakdown! And now our artist recuperates/resides in Michigan, USA. As an actor he has appeared in the film “Sabrina” and the TV show “Strangers with Candy” (2000). He received his BA from Calvin College in geology in 1995. He worked in the World Trade Centre, Building One in 2001 and has survived.

Currently he is working on an existential novel tentatively titled “In Search Of…” and is looking for a publisher/agent for his completed Memoirs.

Read more about this author at: https://shareyourstory.net.au/anthony-mondal/

Poetry and Art by Shiela Scott

July Online Open Mic

Get swept up in the stunning poetry and art combination of Shiela Scott! The sweet sadness of the poem depict beautifully a familiar and relatable pain.


Licensed photographer, creative writer, and business entrepreneur Shiela Scott has completed an A.A.S in Photography degree at Antonelli college, and a B.F.A in Creative Writing for Entertainment degree at Full Sail University. While obtaining a photography degree she has visited news stations and assisted in creating a Christmas card. Also working on a set for Herbalife, while producing memories for the company staff and leadership, she gained notoriety.
With working knowledge of novella, novel, poetry, script, and prose, she aspires to be the best she can be. While she has written Desires that be, a novella with 5 short stories about relationships and pain, she still plans to write more. She has written multiple scripts while studying for the degree.

Not only has she completed works in the field of study, yet gained certificates in other areas. With knowledge of music, how to run a business, how to be promotable, how to work with others, lighting, green screen lighting, and more. She aspires to be well rounded.

 By gaining multiple scholarships throughout her educational journey, she flourished into being a creative muse.




One-Liners Abound! – Ndaba Sibanda


A 2019 Pushcart Prize nominee, 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, Botsotso, The Ofi Press Magazine, Hawaii Pacific Review, Deltona Howl, The song is, Indian Review, Eunoia Review, JONAH magazine, Saraba Magazine, Poetry Potion, Saraba Magazine, The Borfski Press, Snippets, East Coast Literary Review, Random Poem Tree, festival-of-language and Whispering Prairie Press.
Sibanda’s forthcoming book Notes, Themes, Things And Other Things: Confronting Controversies,Contradictions And Indoctrinations was considered for The 2019 Restless Book Prize for New Immigrant Writing in Nonfiction. Ndaba’s other forthcoming book Cabinet Meetings: Of Big And Small Preys was considered for The Graywolf Press Africa Prize 2018.
Sibanda’s other forthcoming books include Timbomb, Dear Dawn And Daylight, Sometimes Seasons Come With Unseasonal Harvests, A Different Ballgame and The Way Forward.


 Let`s Get Cracking! – Ndaba Sibanda - WordPress.com

Forgotten Borough & Other Poems by Eduard Schmidt-Zorner

July Online Open Mic

Eduard Schmidt-Zorner gifts us with sharing his oil painting as well as his poetry today. He expresses his experiences and sorrows with the Corona Virus. Let’s join with him in his reverence for those who’ve passed, as well as the appreciation of life.


Forgotten Borough

Coffins stacked side by side on Staten Island.
without wreath and floral decoration.
Hastily shovelled earth rumbles on cheap wood.
No prayer, no commemoration, no last salute.
As the last humane appearance
people in protective clothing
shoulder the shovels as a salute.

Coffins side by side, with dead who never met.
Anonymously as they arrived
so do they part again.
Coffins on a site where over decades
shiploads of burdened, persecuted,
passed by on their way to Ellis Island
under the flame of hope from far away.

Buried now side by side
and on top of one another
and with them buried the American dream,
dreamt by millions
who fell back or were born in poverty,
in a rejected class, with the wrong colour,
failed, ill, disabled, no WASPS for sure.

And a pimp in his fine suit still mocks them.
“10000 dead a great job”.
Signs cheques to buy votes.
To make him great again.
Dug graves, digging a grave for him too.
The gravedigger spits in his hands
and does not keep a distance.
Grim Reaper grins, reaps a rich harvest.
What a success, the numbers are rising,
but not on the balance sheet.

Death pulls the doughy mask off his skull,
a grinning skeleton
that keeps the world in suspense,
powerful, power-obsessed,
now the maggots are licking their lips.
His coffin will also be made of wood,
maybe with a little more varnish,
but 6 feet under it will soon come off
and make all equal…..So equal.

Condemned to wait

I am sitting in a train
which does not leave the station.
Nobody knows the departure time.
Discussions on the platform
by people in uniform
and worried travellers.
Experts draw deviating conclusions.
All seems fine
but seconds later doom
and disappointment.
Some leave the train
and are never seen again.
Some turn to entertainment
and read or write.
And for spite,
the announcement says
that all have to wait
further three weeks.

We speak again…

We speak again of heroes,
we speak again of war.
Hundred thousand victims,
thousands of dead and coffins,
at an invisible front.

We speak again of suffering,
we speak again of who is worth to live.
Emergency laws are passed,
harsh rules, curfews imposed.
We face shortage, rationalisation.
History repeats.

For the politicians we are pawns.
There will be war profiteers,
charlatans will raise their heads.
Mass graves, deserted regions.
Nothing will be as before.

Enforced rest

Re-dating history,
revitalize deleted words,
see butterflies with closed eyes,
patiently counting dead flies,
that fell from the windowpanes,
kill time,
and lie to the clock every now and then,
read again what has been read,
hum forgotten melodies,
dig through yellowed photos
and be glad that fate spared me
when I see
photos of ex-girlfriends,
who went out of shape,
and passed the aphroditic stage.
Nod off now and then,
without being reprimanded,
talk to the dogs
and lecture the cats
about impermanence.
Watching the sheep graze so peacefully,
the clouds on the mountains, the Reeks,
and follow the flight of the gull,
that floats weightlessly.
Wait and see what the future brings,
when we have to race restlessly again.

Silky case

Twelve weeks served
in prison without bars.
Days dripped like a leaky faucet.
Calendar shows five months elapsed.

As my own faithful companion
I looked over my shoulder
while writing
and wrote down at the same time
how I looked over my shoulder.
Words whisper side effects.

Age poses the grumpy question:
How much longer? Isolation.
We see the world sinking into wars
and collateral damage
and with determination
going astray.

I pupated to wait like a silk moth
to emerge from the cocoon
or like a caterpillar
to become something colourful.

Became, as if to add insult to injury,
stultified in banishment.
Everything is covered in mildew
even my brain
not to speak about my soul.

What I miss is dialogue,
the voices of the others,
the reaction, the advice,
the warmth, the embrace,
exchange of inspiration
and hopefully empathy, too,
the vibrations of the mind.


Berlin, long ago
an island in a hostile sea.
Cut off in an August
from the rest of the world
by a wall.
Wherever you went
you bumped into barriers
and concrete blocks
3.6 metres high
in the centre
the Brandenburg Gate.

Restricted, incarcerated.
An island kept alive
by an air lift
to make sure all had to eat
and coal to heat.

I remembered that when I felt
like on an island
when the virus threatened
and surrounded us
and we were not allowed
to leave or fly out.

How lucky we are.
At least the glance is not limited
by grey bricks.
And there is no barbed wire
to restrict our way.

There are friends and neighbours
who provide.
They give serenity
in our isolation.

Social impoverishment

Audible and cognitive fatigue
when listening to certain keywords,
emotive terms. Corona, Covid19.
The fear of the unexplored,
the unknown enemy,
the invisible blight.
Rumbling carts of the corpse collectors:
“Hand out the dead” accompanied by drumbeats.
Memories of the Middle Ages.
Camus’ “The Plague” is recommended
to be read during these dull days,
also, as a pastime for those elderly
they want to sacrifice to the gods,
to ask for good tidings
and to appease unknown spirits.
Weighing, triaging,
whom they allow surviving
or whom to abandon
in the rough sea of this fight.
Like on the Auschwitz ramp:
You to the left, you go to the right.
Hoarding of toilet paper
and shifting of masks
by elegant dealers.
The black market is flourishing.
The greed, the avarice, selfishness
is not killed by the virus.
Hatred thrives even more.
The search for culprits, well-poisoners.
When you think the Dark Age is over,
it peeks around the corner.
The dark instincts, desire to kill, violence,
the Neanderthalian takes its place,
is pathbreaking again.
Culture just swam free,
is drowning, lost now
in the whirlpool of events.
The thin skin,
music, art, science, ethic,
torn apart and reveals betrayal,
utter aberration.
Futility and senselessness
in the face of abuse of power,
wars, oppression.
All malevolent spirits
believed forgotten
are rising again.
The free opinion is punished,
religion imposed,
heads cut off, education denied,
equal rights undermined,
opportunities smashed.

We do not need tear-gas to cry.

Time void

A rock as outpost
of a person in seclusion.
Summer without people.
Months of loneliness,
without conversation.
A boat bobbing on a lake
in its own indivisible time,
on a Sunday without end.
A lonely seagull his companion.
Both keep distance, eying each other.
He hears voices, but discards them,
the whisper of faces,
he cannot see.
Vague sound memories
of the last carefree year.
Not a soul is here.
A bookmark in a book,
which he reads again and again,
an expired train ticket.
For a train he never took,
a journey he never made.
Time as a band
that ties in with the past.


The years will pass,
eagles will circle up in the sky,
roses will be picked for someone,
and a wreath braided for a head,
flowers are bound for a grave.
And the sun and the moon
will set the rhythm
for day and night;
tears will flow
and laughter will be heard.
Everything repeats itself
and goes down again.
The eternal cycle.


Eduard Schmidt-Zorner is a translator and writer of poetry, haibun, haiku and short stories.

He writes in four languages: English, French, Spanish and German and holds workshops on Japanese and Chinese style poetry and prose.

Member of four writer groups in Ireland and lives in County Kerry, Ireland, for more than 25 years and is a proud Irish citizen, born in Germany.

Published in 103 anthologies, literary journals and broadsheets in USA, UK, Ireland, Japan, Sweden, Italy, Bangladesh, India, France, Mauritius, Nigeria and Canada.

A Conversation with Corona Virus 2020 & Other Poems by Walid Abdallah

July Online Open Mic

Walid Abdallah, an Egyptian poet and author, takes us through all the topics with his eloquent poetry. From the Corona Virus,racism, love, and everything in between, follow along to feel with him to feel the humanity in all of it.

A Conversation with Corona Virus 2020

Why have you come from nothingness?
I have come to cause death and sadness?

Why would you like to destroy and kill?
People trade in one another and sell

Why do you appear now?
To make savage people bow

Are you happy with causing pain?
You created me, I can’t explain

Do you know people hate your nature?
People invented every pain and torture

When will you leave us alone?
When I finish my job soon

Do you come to change destiny?
I come to eliminate every tyranny

Why do you kill the innocent?
Every war has victims’ percent

What do you really need?
I want to implant peace seed

What do you think you can really do?
I already stopped all the wars flow

What else can you do to impose quietness?
I made all people equal, I imposed fairness

Aren’t you afraid of America, China or England?
I already beat all their troops on every land

What about Germany, Russia and Italy?
They are nothing, I am the absolute reality

What is your final message?
Make peace your only passage

What is your final need?
To end your ego and greed

When will you show some mercy?
When good prevails, and evil must flee


I always have a dream
Flowing into my veins like a stream

Throughout my life I wander about
Having deep faith to reach it, no doubt

I always keep it in my heart and mind
I am sure one day I will get it and find

I dream of a new world with no pain
A peaceful world, not insane

I dream of a world full of peace and love
Where birds never stop singing and fluttering above

I dream of a world where lovers never separate
Forever together united by fate

I dream of a world full of trees and flowers
Where love, peace and brotherhood its only powers

I dream all people in one language they all speak
Where love ties and peaceful relations never break

I dream the world becomes fair and just
Where wars and conflicts become a very far past

I dream all people have the same feelings
All people become true human beings

I hope my dream comes true one day
And “peace” becomes the only word people can say


I have always been called black
Before my eyes and behind my back

I always try to hide my sufferings and tears
I have to stand more than anyone bears

I didn’t create my myself nor my color
That becomes my weakness and their power

I may be black from the outside
But I have the whitest hear inside

My color has become the curse of my own race
On earth, we no longer have a place

I am cursed in every place I go
I always feel so little and low

I was born only to suffer
My feeling doesn’t matter

For any crime, I am the first to blame
The Nigro did it and call my name

My soul is imprisoned within the dark skin
My own color has become my own sin

I hope people will see the beauty in my heart
And stop excluding me and asking me to depart

My heart breaks a thousand times every day
No body cares about me, no attention they pay

I am a caged bird left lonely in a rainy night
With broken wings, with no power to fight

Outcast and cursed that’s how I always feel
In front of their vanity we should kneel

I hope they will understand we complete each other
We were created to reconstruct the earth together

We have the same soul but different colors
This should be our strength and our powers

I dream of a world in which we are all the same
And only a human being becomes our name

We should teach our children the power of tolerance
And root out envy, hatred and intolerance

Hard to forget

Away from you, the world is just a vast jail
I wander about, I just fail
You taught me how to love and give
You taught me how to be kind and forgive
You have my heart, yet you deserve more
My life with you I always hope for
Although these years I can’t get
It is still hard to forget
I always need your love and care
As all the happy moments we always share
All these happy memories, remind me
Without which I will never be
Away from you, away from happiness
Among different people but live in loneliness
Your love will never be past
Your love will ever last
When the world becomes so cruel
Whenever I find your embrace so warm and cool
When my love, all people ask for
Your love is still much more
When I am ungrateful and unfair
You are the one to show love and care
If you deserve something, you deserve the skies
Away from you my heart weeps and cries
Between your arms tenderness and affection settle
Love flows from your heart when it is so little
Whenever I do wrong and you have to hate
I find you , all my faults, you appreciate
You always look at me in a loving way
No words can describe my love or say
You are the first intimate friend of mine
You are the first kindness and loving sign
For me you always supply and pray
In a time when tenderness begins to decay
Away from you, it is hard to survive
Away from you, I always suffer and strive
No words on earth can explain
How much love from you I gain
You always care for me first
And irrigate my heart in time of thirst
Beside you happiness I first met
And happy moments I always get
That’s why it is hard to forget

Finding you

Finding you is getting my life again

Forgetting my sufferings and pain

You put me on the right way

After being lost, being astray

Now I love life for your sake

Forgetting all what is false or fake

You are the one I ever searched for

Because of you, I tasted the love I never knew before

Her Love

For the eyes with which I can see

For the heart without which I can never be

For the love of my life as a whole

For my eyes, heart and soul

Although now I can’t see her

She has all my love and care

She is the only cure for my pain

She is the love, I can’t explain

Her love no words can ever express

And will ever remain until after my death

Only for her- these lines – I dedicate

For the love determined only by fate

My heart still beats
Everyone needs someone to care for
Everybody needs someone to love and adore
Everyone needs someone in joy and torture
To share his beloved in present and future
To live alone, life is so bitter
To live in love, life is much better
Come closer, much closer to me
To make one loving entity
Stay with me in my life
To bear pains, struggle and strife
Come closer touch my love and feel
Cure my heart wounds and heal
Make me feel alive again
You dwell my heart and brain
I see rosy dreams in your eyes
You have become my land and skies
Life will come back again to earth
And give it a new being, a new birth
Come closer, don’t go away
Deep inside my hear reside and stay
You are the joy of my life and cure
The relief of my pains I never tasted before
The sun of my love to you will never set
You have enthralled my heart since we met
We can touch the sky together
Our love created flowers that don’t wither
Our love makes trees swing in the wind
Carrying the longing my heart and soul send
My love runs with each drop of the falling rain
My love runs with each drop of blood in my vein
Because of you my heart can beat again
You gave my life a meaning that no words can explain

On our first date!

On our first date
I race the time, can’t wait

I have a new feeling, a bit strange
offering you eternal love that will never change

You are the love I have always been looking for
You are the true love I have never felt before

In front of your eyes, I am speechless
Listen to my heartbeats as words can’t express

When reality has become better than fiction
And you are far more beautiful than every prediction

A princess straight from heaven you really are
I am holding a dream I have always thought very far

I am enthralled by your eyes and their magic
A time when I lose all my reason and logic

I drown into the deep sea of your eyes
Believe your heart, it never lies

You have become all the people I’d like to know
You are the secret of my happiness, you are the clue

Let’s start our love journey at forever
A journey of love that ends at never

You grow a rosy flower in my heart that never withers
You gave my hearts wings and feathers

I no longer live on earth
You gave me a love knows no death

I give you a promise that will never break
I am yours forever, I will always be there for your sake

My eyes no longer see but you
Only you paint my life and draw

Every new year and I am yours and you are mine
Every new year and we are lovers’ model and sign

Every new year and I love you again and again
Every new year and we are in love and will always remain

Every new year and you are all my flowers and trees
Every new year and you are all the air I breathe

Every new year and we are together
Every new year and we belong to each other


Once I had a heart, I had a lover

Promised each other to be in love forever

Once she was my sun and sky

I thought I will never weep or cry

Once she was all I own

Now I am desperately alone

Once she was my soulmate

Never imagined our separation by fate

Once she was the smile of my life

Now it is only suffering and strife

Once she was the candle in my night

Without her, I lost my sight

Once her love filled my veins

Now I only feel severe pains

Once she was my princess

Now I forget joy and happiness

Once I had a dream and aspiration

Now I only feel deep frustration

Once I was alive somewhere

Now I took all my sadness share

Tale of creation!

There is a great myth, I once read
About early mankind, it was said
That was called tale of creation
Was narrated after Eve temptation
When man and woman were in the same body
When one dress was enough for both to embody
At that time man was predestined with only one wife
Throughout his whole life
He didn’t have for a lover to look
All was in his lot, in his book
They loved each other by nature
And nothing could change this feature
Man and woman were forever together
Nohing could make their love wither
Not only one body, but also one soul
Doom and lot drag them and enthrall
They have their own life and happiness
And never knew solitude or loneliness
The soul was in love with the soul
Even before being created at all
They own everything, even the universe
Always together from birth to death
They had the land, not the sky
They could walk and swim, but not to fly
They heard about Gods’ in the skies
Whoever stares up would lose their eyes
The sky means suffer and fear
Where Gods are cruel and unfair
In order to laugh and have fun
They sometimes removed the sun
Gods’ hands were of good and evil
Sometimes hands of merciful and others of devil
There was a God of war
And other of love and adore
There was a God of hate
And a God for improving fate
Suddenly there was a fierce war among Gods
And turning people into bugs or even buds
They began to throw balls of fire
They had their dream and a desire
Separating man away from his wife
Without caring about their life
People began to Gods pray
Despite being victims and prey
For stopping the irony of these conflicts
In turning people into insects
Nobody could hear or care
To stop that nightmare
Till Zeus participated in the game
And became “king of Gods” his name
Zeus easily stopped the war
But couldn’t fix the violations happened before
Man and woman from now on are separating
Can’t any more weld and became impossible their meeting
From now on man lost his own lover
And has to search for her forever
Rarely some succeed in finding her
Some fail although she is very near
People are cursed to hesitate
Can’t make up their mind by fate
Man must walk everywhere and wander
To meet either success or surrender
Even if his lover is very near
He can’t make sure and say “that’s her” is this fair.

When you need me

When you need me, just look up to the sky

You will see me with the stars so high

Watching you from any harm and protect

I am much nearer than you expect

Even if days separate us one day

I will find you, I will find some way

Don’t think of tomorrow, It is still away

Any word of separation, never say

The day will come and unite us again

And catch our happiness and forget pain

Biography of the Poet:

Walid Abdallah is an Egyptian poet and author. He is a visiting professor of English language and literature in Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Germany and the USA, his poetry includes “Go Ye Moon”, ” Dream” and “My heart still beats” And has several translated poems which won prestigious prizes in the USA like “Cause”, “Egypt’s Grief”, and “Strangers’ Cross”, his books include Shout of Silence, Escape to the Realm of Imagination, and Man Domination and Woman Emancipation.

To Set Her Heart on Fire & Other Poems by Ndaba Sibanda

July Online Open Mic

Kicking us off for July’s Online Open Mic we have Ndaba Sibanda! May he be an inspiration to you to fill this month with expression and artistry!

To Set Her Heart On Fire

to set the much-needed dialogue in motion
there had to be poetry & poetry & devotion
she didn’t mince her words at all, she hit it
she demanded & desired to see nothing short of it:
she called for an ecstatic expression of emotions
a freely & furiously lively ,lovely exhibition of yens
a river filled with an explosion of verve and verse
and that was her basis for an engagement, a discourse

Write Me Letters

You have filled me in on what makes you tick,
took me on a tour of your culture and creed.

You have taken me to places where they dish
out delicacies and glamour and glitz.

I cannot thank you enough for the body
of knowledge you have shared with me.

I cannot thank you enough for the superb cuisines
and places of interest you have exposed me to.

But now, please waste not your breath and time,
for time for buts and blah blah is over.

But now, please dish out your fragilities,
your you-ness, for I pour out my me-ness.

write me letters…

write me letters…

Words whose meanings and sounds
are spelt out in the dictionary of you `n me.

Those whose font sizes dance a lively tap
to the melody and therapy of my soul.

Words whose meanings and sounds
are meaningless and soundless to all.

Write me letters at the centre of my heart,
letters so hot they burn into eternal blazes.

Write me letters whose glorious memories
time and distance will not shrink or erase.

Write me letters in the hidden bowls of my mind,
letters so mad they invent and reinvent my world.

Draw me pictures whose shadows and sounds
and colours I will follow and fall for forever.

Draw me diagrams of the unseen and untouchable
only seen and touched in the depth of your heart.

Diagrams reflective of the effectiveness of vibes,
those that sweep one off one`s heart and mind.

Please me tell that our walks and chats and outings
are the fruit we are beholden to honour and nurture.

Please tell me I am the letters and diagrams
that have snowballed and sailed away with you.

Write me letters and diagrams about denials
and the writing off of reality at one`s risk.

Write me letters and diagrams about what lies
beneath the wholeness of you and your life.

Let me drown in their transcendence and elegance,
so that our deficiencies see the light of fondness.

Let me plunge into the blast furnace of adoration,
and deal with its heat, lows and highs with conviction.

Bring me the honour and privilege to take a sneak peek
into our lifetime displeasures and treasures and pleasures.

Bring me all our baggage of staggering secrets and frailties,
bring them on –for these are to be in the mirror of frankness.

Write me letters slated in for victory and celebration,
write me letters endorsed and sealed by our hearts.

Write me letters whose weight is weightless and sight
sightless in the face of our resolve and affection.

write me letters…

write me letters…

In The Heart Of Glory And Gladness

Have you ever had the pleasure of observing
the behavior of the wild—the elephants—
in their natural habitat? A lumbering spectacle!

Have you ever had a desire to hang out with guys
like the turtle? Chatting with her, taking her to lunch–
perhaps, feeding and cleaning her. That would be great!

Perhaps dear turtle would start to open up a bit. Thanks
for the wonderful meal and bath. Please, please protect me
from predators. My hatching grounds need to be secure.

Picture yourself in the core of the grassland, in the majesty
of the Victoria Falls, wow!– graced by the presence of the big 5:
the rhino, elephants, lions, leopards, buffalo; hands dirty & caring!

Shimmering With The Moon And The Stars

The king of the jungle listened to the quietude
Of the night, the sleepiness of the woodland
An airiness issued, pampering his eardrums
There was an air of expansiveness and mystery
The royal animal was mesmerised and blown away
By the sweetness and fruitfulness of the melody
It breathed genuinely aromatic buds into his nostrils
And planted a peace of mind that paced through eyes
Here his ears were heir to a lyrical and likable calmness
There was something cool, curative about the experience
The king of the jungle moseyed, marvelled at the elegance
And beauty of the moon, a moon whose remoteness was nigh
He was in the glare of the galaxies` deep dimples and smiles
There was a reappearance and impermanence of moments
The lioness and the cubs were fast asleep, maybe, he thought–
Just re-contextualising peace and the pace of nature and night…


With a tongue longer than your body
You slurp up ants from inside ant nests!

Sheltered in stiff scales, you curl up to defend
Against a group of predators and traffickers

Tell me about the magic behind your scales?
How do they go on growing during your life?

Belonging to the threatened species, you are–
A most severely trafficked animal in the world

I wish you could curl up into an inaccessible ball,
A ball that eludes the claws of the leopards & tigers

At times you ‘scale’ away a pride of lions—bravado!
I wish materialistic poachers could leave you alone

It is interesting that you use your nose to find ants
It is disheartening that you are hunted on a huge scale

For meat, fashion and medicinal purposes, you are pursued
Pangolin, you can be pardoned for secreting a pungent fluid!

You are at liberty to communicate with your special glands
So that you could spray them with the skunk`s perfect perfume!!

Convulsive Tendencies

the road looks like it’s running away
and one wishes one had more than
one pair of eyes –maybe two sideways
and of course at the back of the head

sometimes the car convulses or gallops
especially when it thinks one’s legs
on the pedal and brakes are playing
fool with its little moody mechanics

And Bum Bum

I thought my older brother
was holding onto the saddle

till l discovered that the bike
was roller-skating freely with me

down down a lonely lane
and bum bum on a pothole

I flew up and fear hit me hard
before l said son-of-that man

get off in one piece please–
and in style l glided off the thing!


A 2019 Pushcart Prize nominee, 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, Botsotso, The Ofi Press Magazine, Hawaii Pacific Review, Deltona Howl, The song is, Indian Review, Eunoia Review, JONAH magazine, Saraba Magazine, Poetry Potion, Saraba Magazine, The Borfski Press, Snippets, East Coast Literary Review, Random Poem Tree, festival-of-language and Whispering Prairie Press.
Sibanda’s forthcoming book Notes, Themes, Things And Other Things: Confronting Controversies,Contradictions And Indoctrinations was considered for The 2019 Restless Book Prize for New Immigrant Writing in Nonfiction. Ndaba’s other forthcoming book Cabinet Meetings: Of Big And Small Preys was considered for The Graywolf Press Africa Prize 2018.
Sibanda’s other forthcoming books include Timbomb, Dear Dawn And Daylight, Sometimes Seasons Come With Unseasonal Harvests, A Different Ballgame and The Way Forward.


 Let`s Get Cracking! – Ndaba Sibanda - WordPress.com

July Online Open Mic

My Dear Ponderbots,

We’ve made it through half the year, and I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling all over the place. Emotions are on constant rollercoaster mode as the world continues to battle multiple large issues all at once.

With all the battles, it’s hard to keep track of the days let alone where we are at emotionally. I’d like to take this time to encourage you to check in with your feelings. Take time to sit with them and express them in your own unique and healthy way. We are fighting to protect others, we are fighting for survival, and in order to keep that up we must feed our own emotional needs as well.

That’s why this month, I wanted specifically an Open Mic. I wanted each artist to be able to share what is on their hearts and minds as we continue to face these challenges and chip forward one step at a time.

Take some time to enjoy each artist. I hope they uplift you, and you them with your likes and comments. Your simple actions can be wondrous gifts to those around you when done with love on your heart.

Let’s lift each other up, fight when we can fight, rest when we need rest, and we will get to the other side of this together.

-Mia Savant