Climbing The Hill

Stand still
With your hand climb the hill
If you use a spoon
You won't finish soon
Don't dream
Because you might no see the steam
If you do so don't cry
When you find the plate clean and dry
Eat more food
To reach you adulthood
Be careful they might think you are rude
Take a look
So that they may let you off the hook
If a rock of a hill sticks on your neck,
Drinking water is the trick
If it's too hot on your chest
No one can check
Just resist
Until your delicious hill gets flat
Wishing to get another plate.

poem by Walani Ndhlovu
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Who Am I?

Who I'm I in the world?
I ask myself
I'm neither a bird
Nor a wooden shelf

But a vacuum of ignorance.
That describes me perfectly

Being hate by those who I love
And being ashamed of what I have
Being disappointed by my only lover
I even feel better to be judged by my cover
Because inside it's a mess
And the worries about love have made it worse

Darling you know me better
Tell me who I am in the world
I try to think more and greater
But without you I've failed

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poem by Walani Ndhlovu
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When Am I Going To Rest

When am I going to rest?
When I'm going to fetch water
You are on my back
When I'm going to fetch firewood
You are on my back
Oh! When am I going to rest?

When am I going to rest?
When I want to rest
You are on my breast
Suckling like a calf
Yet you have little sharpened teeth
I can even scream if you bite my breast.

All you know is to wee wee, eat and cry
Without giving me time to rest
To my breast
You are the pest
Applying pepper might be a pest control
But still I will not rest

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poem by Walani Ndhlovu
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All In My Hands I Hold

All in my hands I hold
Money, silver, Jewell, and gold
All those things that man can love
I still have more though some I sold

All in my hands I hold
Brackets and jackets to drive all the cold
To keep me warm and act like a stove
That when you talk all I do is to nod

All in my hands I hold
All great names in the world I'm called
Angels can know who I am from above
And tell my deeds to the might lord

All in my hands I hold
Stories I made but some I was told
Tales still fly in my head like a dove
And some still hang in my brain they're stored

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poem by Walani Ndhlovu
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Cool Boy

There he comes in his noise
To get himself into the cool boys
He carries himself a knife
Neither for killing nor for defending his life
Normally it's part of his swagger
For he is training to be a smuggler
His voice vibrates like a spear
And it always hurt in my ear
He has deep voice and he sounds so loud
Looking at himself he feels so proud
Swag and sag is his new game
Nigger in the club is his new name
He drinks, smokes and deals with drugs
And spends his money to pay for the hugs
He gets his friends after making his plan
But they all run away when his money is done
He keeps on stealing
And keeps on killing
His life on a spoon
We'll burry him soon.

poem by Walani Ndhlovu
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Sleep Forever

Down I lie
Sleeping all day
Still asleep for years
Surrounded by tears
Of friends, relations and further
But still sleep, sleep and sleep forever.

My eyes all closed extremely shut
My body is dry, straight and flat
As I lie in wooden house
Helpless like a dead mouse
Alone with no any other
As I sleep, sleep and sleep forever.

In my best black suit
My voice on mute
Waiting for the judgement
In a new environment
Coping with underground weather
As I sleep, sleep and sleep forever.

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poem by Walani Ndhlovu
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For All I Do

My deeds can gratify your name
And my deeds can give you shame
But all you know is that I'm your son
And for whatever I need you do the best you can
Mother! You are unique and always the same
Whenever I do wrong you still get the blame
Sometimes I spoil you plan
You whip me and I run
But you still keep me in your frame
And it goes on like a game

Whenever I do something bad
You become angry and sad
But in a few moments you forgive me
And your heart is settled and free
Sometimes I work hard
And I feel in my heart that you're so glad
It only needs me to obey thee
But of course life swings and shakes like a tree
It crashes the flooding love in the bright sky

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poem by Walani Ndhlovu
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He Who Inspired Me

Rhyming words which can't rhyme
Timing things which you can't time
Flying without wings
Without teeth and tongue the mouth sings
Travelling long distances without reaching the furthest place
Coming from Olympics without winning any race
But having a success from a failure
By crashing you own records which were their earlier
Yes! It happens
That's why my brain sharpens
When I think about him who inspired me
Who went to a marathon and was number thousand if not three(thousand)
But he was still proud of himself
For his name was in the race shelf
I laugh in tears and cry in a smile
For he produced fifty gallons of sweat in each and every mile
Being overtaken by many people but never gave up
And did not bother to look at the people who mocked and clap
For he knew what he was doing
He knew what he was doing.

poem by Walani Ndhlovu
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The Red That I Feel

The red that I feel
Is not the color which you know
It's a feeling that I get when I'm angry or ill
I always try to let it go
But the pain becomes more and more real
It feed on my disappointment which makes it to grow
And my brain would always pass its bill

The red is a flame of fire
As soon as it enters in me it burns all my plans
And gives commands to manage her desire
It produces more anger clans
That before finishing the calculations a mathematician can retire
It has more grief than the mans
And it goes round and round like a rolling tire

The red that I feel has no medicine to heal
When I'm in a bad mood it becomes more harder
So I know being happy is a great deal
But how can I if someone is raising the red up the ladder

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poem by Walani Ndhlovu
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Why Shouldn't We Protest?

Why shouldn't we protest
If something is wrong?
Why should we be under arrest
Just for singing a song?
Should we keep things in our chests
And let them boil and burst?
Should we forget about the freedom of speech
Which we were voting for?

Why shouldn't we protest
If we are against a certain term?
Should we be imprisoned like a bird in a nest
Just for writing a poem?
Should we through our views away like the waste
Because there is no way to present them?
Should we keep our baby ideas in their nest
Because we have no say in this game?

Why do you always think of violence
When we are talking about protest?

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poem by Walani Ndhlovu
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