The Lost Children

Small pink-bellied hands
like thirsty tongues
licking at my heart,
and brown eyes sad
beyond my understanding.

They break me, these small dark
children of the narrow streets,
These wisps of wild uncared for lives-
Round grey balls for knees,
and skin as rough as sun-dried leather.
They sniff, they shout, they smile,
There is joy like spilled sunshine,
There is life- run, jump, fall-
And never cry.

Where is their pain?
The same sun warms their sun-dried skins
As shines upon my garden wall
And makes the diamonds dance
In a million scattered drops
That flow from my sweet scented fountain.

Those drops that fall
And dry to nothing
on the hot white concrete floor,
Do they sparkle any the less
Before they fall?

Fiona Jamieson

Women of Africa (video)

I was meant to attend the "Destiny Dinner" in London on Saturday, organised by Zimbabwean Yvonne Marimo, and read this poem, which I composed especially for the event. Unfortunately, work has taken me to Azerbaijan and I am unable to attend in person.

So I recorded this video of me reading the poem, which will be shown. The sound-sync is a bit out - probably something to do with the fact that I recorded it in a hotel in Tbilisi, Georgia - but hopefully you get the idea. For more information, see www.destinydinners.com.

Call for Submissions on Africa: A Journal of Artful Candor

Aunt Chloe: A Journal of Artful Candor

Aunt Chloe: A Journal of Artful Candor is calling for submissions for its upcoming 2010 issue. Aunt Chloe, formerly Focus magazine, is Spelman College’s oldest literary publication. We favor work that tackles issues of the political, personal, mundane and earth-shattering in artful and candid ways, with the intent of illuminating the overlooked and the disregarded.

We are also accepting submissions for our special “Africa” segment. We will feature African artists, writers, and poets who, through their work, tackle social, political and cultural issues.

Aunt Chloe accepts poetry, visual art, photography, fiction, and nonfiction via e-mail only. Please visithttp://auntchloe.blogspot.com for submission instructions and guidelines. The deadline for submission is January 15, 2010. Please email your submissions to auntchloe@gmail.com .

Free Falling

FREE FALLING
By Wayne Visser

Over the edge
At World’s End
And Adventure’s Beginning

Free
Falling
Unfixed and unnerved
With emotions jangled and raw
Past ties tangled
Taught and stretching
Fraught and frightening
Swan-diving into my fear
Cloud-riding

Free
Falling
Towards the promise
The hope
Of a New World
The scope to explore
To learn
To burn the fire of knowing
To feel the tug of growing

Free
Falling
Throwing the rope
That reaches across
Weaving the bridge
That breaches beyond
The restless ruthless tide
Of need amidst plenty
And want that is empty

Free
Falling
Straining to hear
My calling
My bliss
Somewhere in the mist
Over the edge
At World’s End
And Adventure’s Beginning

(2009)

Where I come from

I come from a place so far away
Where the people are friendly
And children play
Where poverty’s rife
And life can be tough
Where I come from so far away

Smiles so wide and teeth very bright
But why
You may ask
Where poverty’s rife
And life can be tough
Where I come from so far away

There’s a lesson here which can be learned
For all the world concerned
Where poverty’s rife
And life can be tough
Where I come from so far away

No matter the hardship
Nor life of decay
Where poverty’s rife
And life can be tough
Yet the people still smile
Where I come from so far away

Donna Steward
2009

Hope

Sweet chocolate children

Dipped in honeyed sun

Doughnut dandy,

Laughter on the run

Small hand round my finger

Dark on light

Dappled shade

Bright rainbows of the night

Sweet my children

Africa’s new seed

Grow in beauty

Where the brave have bled

From the bones

Of tragedy and pain

Build the ladder

To the stars again

Pushing petals outward

To the sun

Sweet my children

Hope at last begun

Fiona Jamieson

2007

Women of Africa by Wayne Visser

WOMEN OF AFRICA
By Wayne Visser

Women of Africa
In the land of bow and spear
Of chieftain and warrior
Of hunter and hunted
You are the silent gatherer
The unsung provider
The hidden basket
We raise you up
And speak your praise

In the shifting sands of power
You are the pyramid of constancy
Standing firm
Against the fierce winds of time

On the endless plains of possibility
You are the gentle matriarch
Leading the way
Through the fickle seasons of life

In the thirsty dust of desperation
You are the baobab of sustenance
Rooted deep
In the quenching earth of faith

You gather the tears of the world
And in the midst of mourning
You find reason to smile

You gather the tribes of the world
And in the chaos of squabbling
You sow seeds of community

You gather the stories of the world
And in the firelight of remembrance
You keep the spirit burning

Women of Africa
The music of every place
Moves to your swaying hips
And shakes to your stamping feet

Women of Africa
The children of every time
Suckle on your ample bosom
And fall asleep to your lullaby

Women of Africa
The victims of every tragedy
Seek solace in your arms
And find comfort in your voice

You gather the light of the world
And in the darkest caves of evil
You spread your luminescence

You gather the orphans of the world
And in the villages of your heart
You give them a place called home

You gather the elders of the world
And in the sacred councils of trust
You show us a better way

When our past dries to a trickle
You are the river delta
That reunites our memories
With the sea of history

When our days are drought stricken
You are the tireless pestle
That grinds our hardship
Into the flour of wisdom

When our future lies in shadow
You are the wild prophetess
That divines our destiny
In the pattern of bones

Women of Africa
In a world of folly and fear
Of division and diversion
Of begetting and forgetting
You are the mighty gatherer
The harvester of wholeness
The maker of peace
We honour you this day
And forever more

(2009)