Tag Archives: Lesotho

Untitled #12_WS13

ke lekhara-khara la eng mosamong, monna a thikhithela sa thipa ea sekeqe e bua moketa, a chachametsa sa masumu o habile mokoting, metsi e matha likhororo ho theosa le khorong ea makhoaba, phokong sa lipere ho ea likella haheng la lipoli, ha se lerato nthoena ke peto, ngoana a ngaola sa mohakajane thoteng, monna moholo o tahiloe keng, u tahiloe ke takatso ho baba ‘meleng, ‘mane oa thaba ho chachametsa, bokhopo ba bohoeng sehloho, saratha se iname, hampe sa rathella le bana mot’seo. . . . . .

By Lesia Maphenchane


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Roses are dead #10_WS13

Roses are dead

Roses are dead, violets are too i regret their
putrid fragrance,wrinkled petals depresses,
morning breezes brought dew.
Doses are bad, violence is too.

Solar flares strewn over gloomy sights, eyes of purple-bluish hue, bruised leaves clouded by discontent, precipitations of sadness falling with asunder showers.
Frantic pacing of retreating footsteps, when dawn and dusk merges in anticipation of her leaving the devil’s lair.
Poses are sad, silence is too

Wound healed not by suture.
As the sun descents the moon rises,and this chapter is brought to an end.
After all roses are dead.

Lebogang Scooter


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Sense of Security #06_WS2013

Children, especially girls, need to feel safe around their brothers, male cousins, fathers, uncles and grand fathers.

If you were to caption the picture below around the theme of gender based violence and safety, what would your caption be?

Picture by Meri Hyoky Photography



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Hey Sister #04_WS2013

Hey sister

The universe will play you music by a man who saw you there killing time.

It will have a random child wrap their hands around you and grace you with their smile

The universe will have your words echo from the lips of those you’ve touched. . .

Work by Uprise Media Center ( Lineo Segoete & Meri Hyoky

Work by Uprise Media Center ( Lineo Segoete & Meri Hyoky


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The Voice – #_01 WS2013

The voice inside

Today the reflection was rear,in my eyes i saw nothing but emptines
It was broken,and i kept seeing different parts of me
Te beat me so hard yesterday i forgot the reason why.
With thoughts persuing my mind i wanted to justify his ways, i loved the bastard n i offered myslf in depth to my soul.
Stratified by the confusion and no sense of belonging,i became nothing bt a myserable novel to read.
Why stay?
He promised to take me to an early grave,i’m already there.
Sworn by a priest an values of morality i see no sense of mortality for the devil has taken over. He promised to take care of me but the monster has declared war against my soul.
This mirrior is a reflection of a woman not known to me, a picture of a sorry soul or should i say bitch as he calls me with that grim look on his face this sorry excuse of a ‘Cain.’
today before i could top up more make-up i saw a child in me,i felt a voice within me…
‘ If you leave,u could gain a bit more,’ she was right,i was beginning to see my skeleton but the battle between heaven and hell was not over nor would it end with me.
My soul was torn beyond repair bt as i tried to touch myslf,i felt like a ‘see-through’ and then i realised. It was over,the voice was my soul bidding farewell. Had i taken the liberty,i wud be alive. There it was,that low fat skeleton of mine.
There was no mirrior to see anything,there was no voice to hear but the sobs of those who cared about the woman i used to be. As they sent me six feet under.

By Nthabiseng Senekane


:: Lyrical Bacteria 2013


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Voluntary Insanity

The following poem was first published under Weekly Mail newspaper’s Poets Paradise column (Vol 2| No.14 | AUG 2008|)

Burn your revoltingly dirty socks
Socks of violence, elitism
Socks misleading your feet
Bandage me not
As I profusely bleed
Bleed blood of deeply embedded
Feelings of shame
Shame cremating my heart in blistering flame
Lead the way brothers
Castigate these propellers of moral decay
Forget not yourself
Fly away from this alien culture
Culture replete with brutality

Mark significant departure
From culture of voluntary insanity
Eradicate the woman-minority mentality
Conceived in capable minds
Disillusioned minds of poisoned hearts
Be not the black blistering sun
Raping sisters’ hearts into deserts

:: Lyrical Bacteria 2013

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Posted by on February 21, 2013 in Poem


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Failed Competition

A week back I asked one fellow poet to invite members of a Facebook poetry group of which he is the administrator to a mini-competition where they were to write on the theme; Resolutions.

Once the poems were written and posted in the group, group members were to constructively criticize each other and hence vote on the best poem. The top three poems would be published on the Poetry Farm Facebook page and the best would be published on the Poetry Farm blog.

The idea was to help inculcate in poets’ minds that unless we grow a culture of constructively criticizing each other we can’t easily kiss the lips of growth, first as writers and secondly as poets.

Unfortunately or rather funny enough no one except Lebogang Scooter (the group admin) participated in that mini-competition. Maybe it was too boring for their liking or having their poems published on the afore-mentioned platform wasn’t incentive enough.

Anyway,how faithful have you been to your resolutions thus far in 2013?

That never constructively criticized shall never be mentally circumcised ” – LB

Below is a poem by Scooter on the theme; Resolutions.


Resolutions scene one; forgiveness, hope, healing

The future is subjective it’s not written in stone
the past did it’s part.

One day
these dusty barren streets
will conceive again
a womb gathering dust and cobwebs
will be wiped clean.

When invisible pillars of the sky
rest their feet
on my heavily weighed shoulders
an erect pen will scribble
back and forth
back and forth
back and forth
back and forth
until it ejaculate ink
a feat of seeing hope
irrational as it is
rationalised to see worth
in a glimpse of a dust speck
just waiting to be ingested
to sprout
to thrive
to survive.

One day
some of us will purge hatred
let it sweat through our pores
we wipe our brows to dry despise
we were given
yet all was not given
we knew so much
yet we still wine and dine ignorance.

There are still fresh graves to be dug up
there are still ghosts to raise
as for now
we hold a night vigil
for the hatchet
read its orbituary
its conquests
accentuate its sharp edges.

As the night is roused from sleep
morning will come un-announced
they’ll wash each other’s weariness with dew
an aftermath of darkness
we won’t even open sluice gates of tear ducts
what is done is done
what is done need to be undone
the leaping tongues of flames will get swallowed in its
own tongues
as did the great fiery rages
of London extinguished their self
smoke shading the sky mauve.

we will find solace in desolation
call a truce
scatter ashes
bury the hatchet with its venom
with you father
i won’t even question the long absence
i’ll just appreciate your presence.

By Lebohang Kuenane (Lebogang Scooter)

:: Lyrical Bacteria 2013

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Posted by on February 19, 2013 in Poetry, Poetry competition


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