"Everglades Litany," by Geoffrey Philp

"Bird of Passage," by Dennis Scott

The poet is speaking.
The window reflects his face.
A bird crawls out of the sun. Summoned.
Its wings are like tar.
That is because it is very hot.
The poet sweats too.
There is a beak at the back of his throat -
the poem is difficult,
his tongue bleeds.
That is because the bird is not really
dead. Yet.
Clap a little.
© Dennis Scott

[More on this poet...]

"The Sophisticated Skinhead," by Lefifi Tladi

We don't need
you here,
We can help you
out there
In your homeland
Go home nigger
We don't need you nigger

WELL!

The day you empty your
Ethnographic museums
And send our souls back
To our homeland
Then we will know
You are for real
Mother-fucker
© Lefifi Tladi
© Picture credit and copyright

Book: "No Serenity Here"

NEW BOOK INFORMATION: No Serenity Here

An Anthology of African poetry in English, French, Portuguese Amharic and Arabic translated into Chinese, edited by Kaiyu Xiao, Isabel Ferrin-Aguirre and Phillippa Yaa de Villiers

244 pages

Publisher: World Knowledge Publishers, Shanghai

October 2010

ISBN 978-7-5012-3895-8

Six months, about 1000 e-mails, one facebook chat and here it is: No Serenity Here, a contemporary anthology of African poetry to be launched during the Shanghai Biennale in October 2010. Original poems in English, French, Portuguese, Arabic and Amharic will be published alongside their Chinese translations. The volume includes Nobel Laureate Wole Soyinka, along with voices from 25 African countries, and was translated by a team of Chinese poets under the guidance of Kaiyu Xiao.

Edited by Xiao in China, Isabel Ferrin-Aguirre in Berlin and Phillippa Yaa de Villiers in Johannesburg, No Serenity Here celebrates established writers such as Ama Ata Aidoo (Ghana), Makhosazana Xaba and Lebo Mashile (South Africa), Veronique Tadjo (Cote d’Ivoire) and Fatima Naoot (Morocco), and introduce lesser known yet brilliant voices like TJ Dema (Botswana), Shailja Patel (Kenya) and Tania Tome (Mocambique), as well as Amanda Hammar and Joyce Chigiya (both from Zimbabwe).

Besides the veterans like Soyinka (Nigeria), Kofi Anyodoho (Ghana), Chirikure Chirikure (Zimbabwe), James Matthews (South Africa) and Keorapetse Kgositsile (South Africa’s Poet Laureate, whose poem lent the title to the anthology), the volume also showcases the prodigious talents of  Shabbir Bhanoobhai (South Africa), Nii Ayikwei Parkes (Ghana), Tolu Ogunlesi and Obododimma Oha (Nigeria), Stanley Onjezani Kenani (Malawi) and Beaven Tapureta (Zimbabwe), Keamogetsi Molapong and Dorian Haarhoff (Namibia), Hama Tuma and Alemu Tebeje Ayele (both from Ethiopia).

“We read widely, but it was the contact with contemporary poets that brought the project to life and delivered its unique vibrancy and varied voice,” says Ferrin-Aguirre, who also worked until recently as a programmer for the Berlin Poesiefestival and researcher for the Literatuurwerkstatt, a global database of poets which collects recordings of poets reciting their work in their original languages in its Lyrikline project.

Acclaimed Chinese poet and academic Kaiyu Xiao admits in his foreword: “the poems … would make me physically quiver as the poems shattered my expectations.” Many of the poets are appearing in print for the first time, and most of them for the first time in Chinese.

“African writers have made an important contribution to the world reservoir of thought on the human condition; this is just a small part of the literary wealth that we have to offer. China has given us so much, and I’m proud that we are reciprocating,” said writer and performer de Villiers.

Published by World Knowledge Publishers and commissioned by artist and philanthropist Mr Hu, the tri-continental project also received support from the Jiang Nan Art and Design Foundation and the Moonchu Foundation.

                                                                                                                                             …/ends

For further information contact Phillippa Yaa de Villiers phillippayaa@gmail.com

Isabel Ferrin-Aguirre aguirre_siemer@hotmail.com

Kaiyu Xiao kaiyu@gmx.de

"Dark August," by Derek Walcott

So much rain, so much life like the swollen sky
of this black August. My sister, the sun,
broods in her yellow room and won't come out.

Everything goes to hell; the mountains fume
like a kettle, rivers overrun; still,
she will not rise and turn off the rain.

She is in her room, fondling old things,
my poems, turning her album. Even if thunder falls
like a crash of plates from the sky,

she does not come out.
Don't you know I love you but am hopeless
at fixing the rain? But I am learning slowly

to love the dark days, the steaming hills,
the air with gossiping mosquitoes,
and to sip the medicine of bitterness,

so that when you emerge, my sister,
parting the beads of the rain,
with your forehead of flowers and eyes of forgiveness,

all will not be as it was, but it will be true
(you see they will not let me love
as I want), because, my sister, then

I would have learnt to love black days like bright ones,
The black rain, the white hills, when once
I loved only my happiness and you
© Derek Walcott

Related Link: Why I trust Derek Walcott more than my Pastor

14th Poetry Africa in Durban

Poets from around South Africa, Africa and the world will descend on Durban for an exhilarating roller-coaster of words, rhythms and ideas at the 14th Poetry Africa international poetry festival, which takes place from 4 to 9 October.

Organised by the Centre for Creative Arts (University of KwaZulu-Natal), and with principal support from the National Lottery Distribution Trust Fund, Poetry Africa’s exciting week-long programme is preceded by a three-stop Poetry Africa tour to Cape Town, Zimbabwe and Malawi [Rethabile says: Not Lesotho. OK, I can live with that, for now].

Over twenty poets from twelve different countries will feature in the main Durban programme and the full lineup will each present an introductory poem on The Opening Night of the festival (4 October, Elizabeth Sneddon Theatre), providing an ideal précis of the diverse voices the public can expect during the rest of the week.

The week will thereafter feature 5 poets every evening, through to 8 October, before the rousing Festival Finale at the BAT Centre on 9 October. Each evening at the Sneddon Theatre will begin with curtain-raising performances by poets representing the various active Durban poetry circles.

Another unique aspect of this year’s festival is the residency of Concord Nkabinde and Erik Paliani. Nkabinde, an acclaimed bass guitarist who has performed with the likes of Johnny Clegg, Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Ray Phiri, Phil Manzaniera, Zim Ngqawana, Darius Brubeck, Deepak Ram and many others, will collaborate with Malawian producer, musician and singer-songwriter Erik Paliani in nightly musical curtain-raisers.

Nkabinde and Paliani’s passion for collaboration provides the perfect metaphor for the cross-cultural artistic meetings that Poetry Africa seeks to stimulate.
[Continue there]

"Song, Somewhere Near Roma," by John Matshikiza

If I could
I'd like to talk about
Riding on your back
Through Sotho-speaking
Mountains in the snow,
Lost naked
In an overwhelming sky.
We'd talk about
How nice today has been,
How still you could learn
Life from me,
From my tribe.
But how can we now,
With all this blood?
© John Matshikiza

A picture of Roma, Lesotho. Roma is the location of the National University of Lesotho.

International Peace Day

21ST SEPTEMBER 2010 Celebrating INTERNATIONAL PEACE DAY with poetry & songs

Sefikeng sa Moshoeshoe at 12.00

PEACE WITH MYSELF AND OTHERS

KHOTSO HO ‘NA LE BAAHISANI



Friends and colleagues to celebrate this important day please answer this question:



What can I as an individual do to help restore the peace that Lesotho once knew?

"Won't You Celebrate With Me," by Lucille Clifton

"Stars of Stone," by Rustum Kozain

Today the stones I know will nick
our skulls, then knock our souls
from us. It is so. For under stars
that are but burning stone,
we held each other. Named for light,
Nurbibi clung to me, her back
against the flat roof of my house
warding off earth, hanging
under heaven. Face-down,
I gripped her shoulders, smelled
the stone-roof through the rug.
Nurbibi may have stared
over my shoulder at the stars,
those burning bits of far-off stone.

And she may have seen four men's eyes
hanging above us in their own,
unmoving flame. Eyes of stone,
heads shrouded in swathes
of scripture. So I, Turyalai,
am bound. And on my knees.
And Nurbibi, in whose loins I sought
some God, is now almost at one
with earth, buried to her waist
next to me. We wait
for the seekers of God
and their ceremony of the stone.
Men we do not know will come
and let stone speak, first in whispers

then in what they must believe
a chattering of angels
when the crowd erupts and rocks arc
but in parabolas far short
of reaching God, that must return
to earth. Men who do not know us.
Men who cannot know
that even as we wronged my wife,
in union we created God. In come-cries
caught in the throat, we made Him.
And made Him ours, gave Him some voice
even as He was in the still of night
as He is now, inchoate
before the hard and burning stars.
© Rustum Kozain, This Carting Life (Kwela/Snailpress, 2005)

The author blogs at Groundwork

Turyalai and Nurbibi were accused of adultery and stoned to death by the Taliban in November 1996.

Ed's note:
I found few links that actually talk about the unfortunate killing. This one was translated from the French and has an eyewitness angle. So does this more complete account. Rustum's poem, however, remains to me the most veritable teller of the horror that went on that day.

"Black River," by Jackie Kay (read by Kwame Dawes)

Kwame Dawes reads a poem by Jackie Kay from Tamiko Beyer on Vimeo.

"The Profile on the Pillow," by Dudley Randall

After our fierce loving
in the brief time we found to be together,
you lay in the half light
exhausted, rich,
with your face turned sideways on the pillow
and I traced the exquisite
line of your profile, dark against the white,

delicate and lovely as a child's.
Perhaps you will cease to love me
or we may be consumed in the holocaust,

but I keep, against the ice and the fire,
the memory of your profile on the pillow.
© Dudley Randall

Links: Wikipedia, Biography, Amazon

"Butterfly," by Chinua Achebe

Image copyright (©) and picture credit

Speed is violence
Power is violence
Weight is violence

The butterfly seeks safety in lightness
In weightless, undulating flight

But at a crossroads where mottled light
From trees falls on a brash new highway
Our convergent territories meet

I come power-packed enough for two
And the gentle butterfly offers
Itself in bright yellow sacrifice
Upon my hard silicon shield.
© Chinua Achebe

Matt says: This poem is about excess of force. Excess means wealth which means comfort. The driver, comfortable, speeding along the highway, protected by the product of his knowledge, going somewhere (where?) occupies a man-made space. The butterfly, meandering towards the sunlight, directionless, a natural one. The contrast of forces is between man as technological and the butterfly as biological. The butterfly is blessed. The driver, fallen from grace, violent.

Sacrifice usually means transfiguration - grace overcoming violence and death. Not in this case. They meet at the crossroads, a pastoral image but also a location of business, exchange - perhaps therefore politics. If you need a political interpretation then consider the poem as about the comfortable violence of wealth.

Maya Jaggi says: The car crash in Nigeria in 1990 that left him in a wheelchair gives an appalling resonance to "Benin Road", which records a collision between a butterfly that "seeks safety in light- ness / In weightless, undulating flight" and a driver "power-packed for two". As "the gentle butterfly offers / Itself in bright yellow sacrifice / Upon my hard silicon shield", the poem not only underlines the poet's own vulnerability, but offers a metaphor for human fragility in the face of overwhelming power and violence.

Someone says:

1. What do you think the butterfly might be meant to represent in this poem?
2. What might the automobile represent?
3. What does their collision represent?
4. What in Achebe’s experience makes this poem particularly ironic?
   

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"Not My Business," by Niyi Osundare

NOT MY BUSINESS

They picked Akanni up one morning
Beat him soft like clay
And stuffed him down the belly
Of a waiting jeep.

What business of mine is it
So long they don’t take the yam
From my savouring mouth?

They came one night
Booted the whole house awake
And dragged Danladi out,
Then off to a lengthy absence.

What business of mine is it
So long they don’t take the yam
From my savouring mouth?

Chinwe went to work one day
Only to find her job was gone:
No query, no warning, no probe -
Just one neat sack for a stainless record.

What business of mine is it
So long they don’t take the yam
From my savouring mouth?

And then one evening
As I sat down to eat my yam
A knock on the door froze my hungry hand.

The jeep was waiting on my bewildered lawn
Waiting, waiting in its usual silence.
© Niyi Osundare

[more...]

"Discipline," by January O'Neil