Of Coffee, Women And Progress

If you were having coffee with me; I would greet you as a stranger who suddenly realises that amongst other strangers we are kindred spirits you and I. How alike yet totally unalike we are; which is probably why I enjoy our little visits. Please do feel at home, grab a cup of coffee or juice or whatever rocks your boat (……water, that’s what rocks boats)

If you were having coffee with me I would tell you that its March, but of course you know this. I don’t know if its International Woman’s Month but I do know International Woman’s Day is on the 8th of March and in the USA, UK and Australia they  celebrate women’ s history month in march and Canada observes it in October. This March it might as well as be Women’s Month on over here; as I will be using this space to celebrate womanhood.

If you were having coffee with me I would tell you how I shall endeavour to bring the female narrative to my blog, featuring guest articles from ordinary women and the extraordinary things they do disguised as ordinary; book reviews, author interviews and other things I’ll just make up as I go along. Maybe I shall write a story from the female perspective I don’t think I have ever tried that…..

If you were having coffee with me I would tell I #PressForProgress

Press for progress

I will #PressForProgressTo kick start my March Goals, if you were having coffee with me I would tell you I had the privilege of attending Batsirai Chigama’s Gather The Children Book launch at  Alliance Français Harare.

gather the children book launch

gather the children Batsirai Chigama

Gather The Children is a self-published poetry anthology drawing inspiration mostly from her experiences and the prevailing socio-political climate.  During a live onstage interview she revealed delaying the book launch in October last year, fearing what could happen, how her book would be received but after a while you run out of metaphors to hide your anger behind, to break the silence…….

“……Silence was taught to our mothers

We rejected it at birth”

–excerpt from Daughters of Fire a poem from Gather The Children

Batsirai Chigama is a spoken word artist with years of stage experience and you can feel the vibe in her poetry. The poems in her book are meant to be spoken out aloud.

A selected few of the poems were performed during the launch alongside backing vocals and sound effects from Mangoma Percussion group. It was breathtaking; I wish you had been there, I wish I had a camera but then again maybe not; I was so busy being in the moment I would have probably forgot to press record….

 

The stage set was simply art; a bowl with candles burning, a vanity case full of old bearer cheque notes, a table hanging from the ceiling and a basket with a bow on the handle full of her books. Ah yes and there was a soul warming performance by Hope Masike.

 

If you were having coffee with me I would ask you if you know what separates animals from angels? Its Art!!

~B

 

PS even Johnnie Walker is celebrating women this month cheers:

Jane Walker

 

Photo Credit: Batsirai Chigama 

Hope Masike

Johnnie Walker

Becoming the muse #PressForProgress

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Of Moonlit Letters To A Muse

My Dearest Mable

Today is neither your birthday nor the anniversary of the first letter you wrote me on your blog almost a year ago. I remember each word almost like I just read it before I started writing you this letter…………..

dear Beaton letter

Ok, ok, I confess, I just finished rereading it again, for the zillionth time……….

I have always started to write a reply back each time and have gone as far as:

Dear Mable

And I then I fail to come up with words that would be a reply worthy of the honour you did me.

letter from mable

letter from Mable

Today however, I will sit here and I will write.

Today is not a holiday neither is it your birthday, it’s not even a full moon night, this February did not have a single full moon although January had two including a lunar eclipse. Imagine I am writing this on a full moon, as I imagine you reading this beneath the moonlit night sky.

You make me smile, you make laugh and most of all you just might be as crazy as you think I am.

That sounds like something I ciuld have whispered to you, in my past life, you might have been my favourite wife, or the lady who danced to all my songs and finished the sentences to all my stories made them right…

The universe might have conspired to place time and distance between us but across various timelines and multitudes of possibilities we would always find each other.

I love the sun

But I dream of The Moon,

All that The Sun gives away

The moon takes,

Sunlight by day

Moonnlight by night

Fulfilling the promises

Let The Be Light……..

Imagine this were a moonlit night and I whispered these words into the breeze, beneath the moon’s milky twilight, petals in the wind dancing with their beloved, as the moonbeam strikes a chord on the window seal.

On nights such as these I stare out of the window to see the moon of my dreams and picture myself howling at it, like a mythical being as I imagine you looking at the same moon and thinking of me too.

The same moon that shines in my sky watches over you too, wherever so you may be, its as if I too will be there by your side. Even when the sun itself is shining we will always have the moon, it may not be as big nor as bright but it is way more magical……

Moon howling

The Full-moon Poet

Today is not a holiday, neither is it your holiday but I thought to not let it pass without me immortalizing you in the only way I know how

All My Love

~B

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of Heart Petals In The Wind

rose petals drifting

Once upon a time,
I stood by the window,
I watched as the breeze,
Blew away with harsh ease,
Petals from the flowers in my china mug vase,
I watched as they floated away from me,
Just like so many of my dreams,
petals from the deep folds of my heart,
one by one all but forgotten,
I watched still,
as the last petal blew past the window sill,
Freely given

rose petal in the wind
I held out my hand out the window,
and reached into the breeze,
I closed my hand around it,
and felt it flutter in the palm of my clasped hand,
like a tiny beating heart,
fluttering like a butterfly,
The happiness it brought was enchanting,
I feared clutching it to tightly would crush it,
yet I feared that opening my palm,
would free it to be gone forever,
freely given,
I unclapsed my hand,
to reveal the gift the breeze held.
If you too would float away,
My petal in the wind……

heart petal in hand

~B

5th part of a 6th part duet, I write something and Mable rights it

She last wrote: hearts

 

Of UnBreaking

heart shaped bandage

Hearts,
Hearts are delicate but never fragile,
They bruise but neither broken nor unravel
Like pieces of a favoured porcelain mug
With a bit of patience and a lot of glue,
I put back each piece as best as I could,
The sharp jagged edges cut as would tiny a razor blade,
A price I gladly pay for my mug remade.
If only it had turned out the way I hoped
Alas its a crazy quilt jigsaw,
Stitched up with nothing but glue,
Each day I learn to like it a little bit more,
Even appreciate its flaws as my own.
Its ok if nobody else likes it,
I am good all by myself.
The once favourite mug broken and glued together again,
Its no longer what it was,
It leaks ever so slightly still
Now a vase for a flower by the window sill…….

broken mug flower vase

 

~B

Third part of a six part duet; I write something and Mable rights it……

She Wrote: Bruised, Not Broken

 

Of The Broken Mugged Man

 

broken Mug

Broken china cup pieces,
Litter the kitchen floor,
I am awake picking up the shards,
A fragment of a red red heart,
Broken,
Just like mine,
Losing words and heat,
Just like me,
………………..shattered

broken heart mug
I never wanted much,
Now I expect even less.
Yesterday this was my favourite mug,
Today it’s a mess,
Yesterday I was loved,
Today I pick pieces from the floor,
A shattered mug bleeding out its core
Just like mine
……………….Unlovable,
Where do broken mugs go?
Time ticks everything away,
Picking up pieces from the floor,
I don’t weep I know how this story ends,
You told me yourself,
The unlovable wind up in one place
Just like me
………………..Discarded.

Discarded

 

~B

This is the first part of a six part duet, I write something then Mable rights it…..

 

Of Why I Write

flipping pages

Blank pages ……

I am genetically engineered to write,
My genes are punctuated with metaphors,
And an irresistible need to write..
I am writer,
It’s not what I do,
It is who I am,
I take off my shoes before I write,
To sort of humble myself before,
All the words inside of me,
Words written but never spoken,

Words to fill up the blank pages 

….You read a part of me in every word I write…
The parts of me you read, are not just pieces of me, but make me up.

Every word of mine you read,
You take a part of me with you

What will you do with the lil bit of my soul that you take with you?

Dipping a pen into my blood
I write myself a soul
pouring out a multitude of words,
brushing away the excess,
A little more of me drips onto every page,
In time,
I will be the book and the book will be me
and my story will be told

Becoming The Muse

 

~B

 

page scrolling

becoming the muse why I write 2018

Of An Apple A Day

 

An apple a day……..

People tend to neglect their health and fitness lifestyle until they get a wake-up call, standing on a scale and seeing your weight or a doctor telling you unless you change you they will be seeing more of you and its not a date…..

I am a bit of fitness freak, I have always liked to run. I wake and I run, that’s what I do.

There is a beautiful poetry in running:

a delusion of flight,

endless leaving behind and reaching towards

running even when there is nowhere to run to and nothing terrible  to run from,

running because walking is a meaningless and takes longer…..

If Life were walking,

then running is to experience our entire life span speeded up

from birth to death….,

the perfect habit.

While all this metaphor is going on your body will thank you for it, its good cardio workout and an excellent way to kick start your fitness journey, and its FREE. You will find you suddenly have the energy to even start and maintain a workout routine…..

running with weights

I don’t go to the gym but I have crazy routine that involves a doing plenty of situps, an ab wheel workout

Weight training with home-made concrete weights at the back yard that seems like we are preparing for a cross fit event. We could not afford a gym membership so built our own gym……

concrete weights home-made gym

home made gym

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What does your fitness or lack therefore of a fitness routine look like?

~B

Day 16 Blog everyday challenge

Of Tomorrow: A Place A day Away

Tomorrow comes, when tomorrow comes……

tomorrow loading button

I dream of tomorrow a place better than today and then I wake up tomorrow is today, tomorrow never comes……

The future is filled with tomorrows that become today, a day at a time.

Life is a poetry of possibilities,

Fused with expectations and uncertainties.

Tomorrow comes. And how often can a man say that? “Every night, because tomorrow always comes everyday, after every night”

I live in a world where planning ahead is hard. Our economy is burning, hard cash in hand is worth more than money in the bank, and everybody is running a hustle. In 2008 a bank apocalypse happened; savings and pensions eroded in value to nothing; overnight, and everyday feels like a day away from the same thing happening all over again…..

Tomorrow comes when tomorrow comes.

Tomorrow never waits.

By the time my parents were my age,

they had:

three children,

 two cars,

 one house

and a dog named Bingo…..

I loved that dog, a German Shepard big and mean looking but gentle as kitten, unless it felt we were threatened, strangers, suspicious characters, the odd postman. Today I cant afford to keep a pet, I cannot even afford to feed myself three square meals plus snacks, the kind of diets we had growing up.

My parents had this life thing on track, they had life policies, invested in shares and those pension plans which pay out a windfall 25+ odd years later. The economy crashed and all that turned to a little less than pocket change.

Today I found a dividend cheque in the mail, it should have been paying my mum a neat little windfall back in the original economy…. but today it pays out USD$1.40

Dividend.jpg

Cheque.jpg

And I ask myself where do I even begin to plan for my retirement, one day I would like to do something really nice for my mum, like by her car to replace the one I know she sold to send us all to school but never told us about… maybe tomorrow I will.

Next year we have elections… the ruling party candidate is the current president, he has been president all my life, he turns 93 in February. Zimbabwe will decide and it seems everything awaits that; what comes after…? Politics in Africa is a messy affair.

And still I dream of tomorrow, a place not like today, or yesterday… a place where things are better…

~B

Day 5 of my blog everyday challenge

 

Of My Selfish Love

being loved by a writer;

Dear Muse;

Heart.jpg

When I say I’m in love with you,
I mean I am selfishly in love with you
I love myself through you.
I love seeing myself through your eyes,
I love seeing myself through my eyes,
imagining how I look through your eyes
I love watching you read the words I wrote
and secretly knowing that they are for your eyes only,
although the whole world can read them too,
When I say I am in love with you;
I mean I love to see you listening to all the stories I have to share,
I love having you to express to;
my opinions,
my profound theories and beliefs,
Especially the silliest things,
along with the important things in my life.
I love hearing myself say these things as I imagine how they sound to you,
and how enthralled I imagine you are with me as I am;
With me.

When I say I’m in love with you,
I mean I love having;
Someone beautiful to wear,
like a favourite outfit.
I love the way you feel on me.
I love the way I feel about me when you are with me.
When I say I am love with you I mean I love how familiar you feel,
like I have known you forever,
in a place without time or in another life,
somewhere between my past life and my next life.
When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I love not being alone.
I love not being that tree falling in the forest that no one heard;
That book that has never been read.
I love having you as my full-time personal audience.
When I say I’m in love with you,
I mean I want you to give me all of your most precious gift;
Your Undivided Attention.
I want to be the reason your world lights up,
as you watch the fire that is me,
Burn.
I mean would burn down to the ground for you;
so you could watch me from its ashes rise like a phoenix.
When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I’m in love with being your sun,
monopolizing your orbit, being your gravity,
keeping you drawn back to me no matter how hard you try to jump or fly,
keeping you down.
Keeping you mine.
Lighting up your world
When I say I’m in love with you what I mean is I love staring at myself in the mirror only to see you standing behind me smiling
When I say I’m in love with you I mean I love
being your mystery,
your riddle,
being what keeps you up at night,
your addiction,
your obsession.
I love being your altar,
your sacrament,
your icon,
your miracle.
I love being your answer.
I love being the object of your sacrifice.
I love being your pain.
When I say I’m in love with you, I mean that if I had to write down what gives me joy in one word it would be your name,
I love your voice,
When you say my mine,
Your lips,
When you smile at me.
Your eyes,
When you looking at me,
And when you do all three at the same time;
For an instant; time stops.
When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I’m in love with breathing your air, eating your dreams.
I’m in love with being your drug,
your drug dealer
your dagger
your lil secret
Your Joy
When I say I’m in love with you, I mean I love the story I can tell to my next love,
about my ex-love,
About how they will never compare to you or understand me like you do
about how beautiful things were,
How crazy,
How intense,
How storybook,
What a couple we were,
and how you gradually, inexplicably,
Bit by bit,
Disappeared.
How I still wait for you like the man who can not be moved;
When I say I’m in love with you,
What I really mean is that
only you make me Me,
and all the stories I have yet to write;
You Are My Muse.

~B

Of My Father’s Watch

My Father’s Watch

seiko.jpg

My father had a watch, a Seiko Kinetic automatic watch, stainless steel with 17 jewels. You know the kind you don’t wind up, and as long as you wear it regularly, somehow it self-winds, and ticks on and on and on…. It came in a black velvet box with a warranty card that declared a lifetime guarantee, I have always wondered how long a life time guarantee lasts, whose lifetime do they mean when they say lifetime guarantee…….

My father had a watch a Seiko Kinetic; he wore it every day from the day he got it, a Christmas present from some duty-free shop at some airport somewhere. I do not know how much it cost but I am sure it wasn’t a price one sneezed at… He wore it so much that the skin beneath it was lighter toned than the rest of his arm. When I try to remember him, I remember him wearing that watch. He never did but  I can imagine him saying to me “Son, a gentleman must always know what time it is, you do what needs to be done, on time, when it needs to be done, in time, and then after,  you can do what you want with all the time you have left , but first you do what needs to be done…”

The only time he was without that watch, was when my little hands were throwing dust to dust and everyone was crying.

My father had a watch a Seiko Kinetic, he made me a promise that when I could tell the time like a grown-up he would get me one for my birthday. But death, the untimely visitor came knocking, knocking down even the best laid plans, just like that….. If he could have given me a last present he would have given me that watch for my birthday; I dont remember if he was the sort of man to give grand speeches, maybe I was simply too young to have really known him or had proper father to son talk but if he could he would have said

“My son, we have only life, love and time in this world, The Creator gave you life, you can find love all by yourself and as for time I didn’t start the clock, no one can turn it back, I cannot give it you, only this clock to watch it tick away……..”

sei.jpg

I have a watch, a Seiko Kinetic, it used to be father’s now I have it and I watch it ticking. The hands of every watch, are clippers, trimming us away tick tock tick tock. The hands of time an illusion lulling us into believing we can tame time, control it even, but every second used is discarded,

discarded.jpg

Discarded

rushing off

slipping from my palms,

through the gaps

in my fingers like a leaky jar…..

TIME

never stopping in this moment

 

cfxl4tpwaaa3hi0

What happens

to all the seconds

tipped into the bin of the past?

Discarded

then gathered up into a tapestry of memories and history……  

2015-03-01 09.26.jpg

I have this watch, a Seiko Kinetic, I don’t know if they still make them like this because today marks the day I have watched it tick for 21 years, before that it was my father’s watch. I look at it and I ask myself how much time do we have, not how many hours or seconds in a day but how much time, do we have….

2015-03-15 19.00.jpg

……The watch keeps on ticking and it doesn’t care how much time we think we have because in the end, it is never enough, it always runs out….. That’s what gives life meaning to know that time runs out…….

time.jpg

My father had this watch, this Seiko Kinetic, I have it now, I watch it tick and I make every moment count………….watch.jpg

~B