Imbokodo

Ngoba uyimbokodo
Itshe ekudala linethwa izimvula, liphephethwa iziphepho
Wena uyisikhali samavaka
Ngiyaye ngimangale usuvumbuka emadolobheni abomthetho besimele ngenjoloba
Yeyi wena mbokodo!
Mina ngiyabuncoma ubuhle bakho
Ngiyakubona usuyindilinga kahle engathi ibhola lombhoxo
Inqakala yami imhlophe nje, ukwenza kwakho mbokodo
Abantu baphila nje, izinyanga zigaya ngawe imithi yokubelapha
Iyababazeka imisebenzi yakho uma usukhulile
Phela usuke usuyidwala elingenakunyakaziswa, uyindlovu kayihlehli
Noxamu sebelethamela kuwena ilanga
Imifula ikugudla, omame bomisela kuwena izimpahla
Ngiyadabuka ngabakwenza khona ososayensi befuna ukwakha imigwaqo namadolobha
Mina ngiyakuthanda kanti futhi uyohlale uyimbokodo yekhethelo kimina

Limpopo

Deep down in the valleys of Limpopo
The creeks flows throughout the fountains,
Up the mountain horizon  of Lebombo
The wind blows with the rhythm of three languages,
And on the land the big bamboos
Are the nobles of the gardens.

Limpopo,where the arable lands
Grows the corny maize, staple food for many.
Where the cock is the time keeper of dawn and dusk.
Where the woman carry babies on their back
To fetch fresh spring water.
Where the little kids sit around the hearth
And outspread their ears to listen
To the treasures of the grannies.

Where sorghum beer feed the thirst of the ancestors.
Limpopo where ancient history lies.
Limpopo, where the cold winter brings circumcision,
When a boy becomes a man.
Where the rain Queen command the rain to fall
In torrents of floods.

Where the stripes of colours of beads
Beautify the beauty of a woman.
Limpopo,sculptor of my heritage.

The Landscape

  The Landscape
I had an experience
Then went to the landscape to recover
I connected the past and the present that has been lost
Sorrow left my intimate space with disgust
Never again did it look back.
  The Landscape
Its movement of the external world
And its rural view
Filled me with the speech that comes from nature
Which connected me with my blessed spirit?
  The tears I raged
I bow my posture with gratitude
This documentary is a painstaking observation  
That suggests my image of life symbol.
   Meditate
The deceit from perfect dreams
Being caressed and laid for a sudden pump,
This is the campaign that started off with a crash, then bang!
Morning distorted me with desolation
   Pecuniary loss
Filled me with the disturbed mind for a time being
No poetic rhyme scheme could comprehend my despair
Because it sound like an ordinary speech
With the sense of futility, I was the thirsty one
With no reciprocals to brew my cider  
Articulating the value of nature
Answers coherently pronounced with no hesitation
That hustled my prey.

beyond

the eyes see
the winds sweep
the breath is held
the balance beyond
the motionless body
the reality removed
the breath exhaled
the pure grandeur
the inner stirring
the outer life
embracing
extending
touching
holding
now
see
me
i