Not Forgotten by Thandeka T'kay Gonde

When you're gone with the wind
And your footfalls have become silence
I'll savour the last touch of your hand
Should the miracle of your smile evade me
I'll keep the warmth of your breath
For the winter nights
As your silhouette fades into the distance
I'll remember the look in your eyes
And the music of your heart beating
When your laughter has trailed off
When echoes of your voice can't reach me
I'll sing the songs that your presence wrote in my heart
To tell the world
That though you be gone
You are not forgotten

Those Other Black Boys by Zibusiso Mpofu

 

Image - http://www.jayblessed.com

One is young and foolish, one wild and free, one is married and single

And the other, is cold and dead

Those other black boys whom no one will ever comprehend

They burn with strange passion for each other

Whimsical, dreamy boys, no different from each other but all the same...strange

One is young and foolish, one wild and free, one is married and single 

And the other, is cold and dead

He dreams of strong male lover

With a mind of ancients 

One that will tug at the fragile fabrics of his unbroken heart

That kind of lover who loves to love to love, wandering the dreamy spaces of the mind

While slowly tugging at his finger tips on a jazzy summer night

He is young and foolish, he has priest for a father

The other is pink profound

Walks around with feathers in his heart

And a story that speaks a million tongues

He's has an iridescent male lover, never cared for the musings of other folk

He rides the crest of intuition and kisses his lover out on the street

Never ceases to amaze little black minds under the covering of shades

That stop to muse always

One is a proportion of tall secrets

Walks around with a halo on his countenance

He is the master disguise, smiles with his ignorant wife and plays roles on and on

But when he gets with his male lover, his crafted modesty falls

Layer by layer his character peels itself to tunes of fear, lack of acceptance and a struggle to stand in the eyes of his people

And when his lover bends him over, his ignorant wife will cease to call him a man

The last is cold and dead, simply because he had a male lover

His own people buried his spirit with no swan song 

To colourless yesterdays and soiled memories

No one knows his name

Only his lover can see the truth of his countenance

And the rest of his unfolded history is spit upon

One is young and foolish, one wild and free, one is married and single

And the other, is dead and cold...