(Penned for a very special, beautiful young lady, RETHABILE SERAGE. NANA is a term meaning BABY in most of our African languages. I love you, NANA! You mean THE WORLD to me!)
You're such a pretty lady;
not long you were one.
You call me mama/sister;
yet to me you are a friend.
We've shared stunning moments;
I've laughed at you, with you.
I recall our petty fights
then I think, "Eish, this one!"
You are my SPECIAL NANA;
beautiful gift from God.
It hurts me to the core
when things aren't well with you.
Sweet, gentle soul;
that's how I think of you.
And though you may be far
you're right here in my heart!
Fond memories of you;
your raw laughter, your naughty streak.
I love you, gorgeous sis'!
YOU ARE MY LITTLE FRIEND!
Wear Christ always;
never forget to pray.
Remember what we did
when it was only us.
We used to share THE WORD;
It's medicine to the soul.
Remember what He said,
"I AM THE BREAD OF LIFE!"
© Yvonne Mahlape Maserumule, 2014
(All rights reserved)
Wednesday, 25 June 2014
Wednesday, 11 June 2014
REMEMBERING THE 80s (ST MARK'S COLLEGE, JANE FURSE, SOUTH AFRICA)
Soldiers came, invaded;
most fully armoured.
We ran in all directions
amid a smell of fear.
Alone in the cold dorm,
I hid in the shower.
I then prayed to God
to keep us safe and sound.
I wet my pretty skirt
as big boots marched inside.
His blue eyes piercing mine,
he knelt right next to me:
"It is okay now, kid;
I'm your friend - won't do you harm."
"Why, then, are you here?"
I whispered, starring back.
He only smiled at me
and gently stroked my back.
He reached inside his pocket;
took out a small, black book.
"My Bible!" he then said,
as he smiled and drew me close.
"He really has no gun;
just the Sword of the Spirit!"
He glanced and winked at me
as though reading my roaming mind.
For quite some time we sat
until he broke the silence:
"You know the Armour of God?"
He asked, playfully nudging me.
I quietly nodded back,
all fear, all terror gone.
We then both read The Book
as he hugged me ever close.
"Time for me to go;
I think now duty calls!"
"Great meeting you, my friend;
my name is Lebohang."
"You may call me Andries!"
he said, hugged me goodbye.
Very soon he was gone,
together with the rest!
© Yvonne Mahlape Maserumule, 2014
(All rights reserved) (A combination of reality and a bit of the author's own imagination)
most fully armoured.
We ran in all directions
amid a smell of fear.
Alone in the cold dorm,
I hid in the shower.
I then prayed to God
to keep us safe and sound.
I wet my pretty skirt
as big boots marched inside.
His blue eyes piercing mine,
he knelt right next to me:
"It is okay now, kid;
I'm your friend - won't do you harm."
"Why, then, are you here?"
I whispered, starring back.
He only smiled at me
and gently stroked my back.
He reached inside his pocket;
took out a small, black book.
"My Bible!" he then said,
as he smiled and drew me close.
"He really has no gun;
just the Sword of the Spirit!"
He glanced and winked at me
as though reading my roaming mind.
For quite some time we sat
until he broke the silence:
"You know the Armour of God?"
He asked, playfully nudging me.
I quietly nodded back,
all fear, all terror gone.
We then both read The Book
as he hugged me ever close.
"Time for me to go;
I think now duty calls!"
"Great meeting you, my friend;
my name is Lebohang."
"You may call me Andries!"
he said, hugged me goodbye.
Very soon he was gone,
together with the rest!
© Yvonne Mahlape Maserumule, 2014
(All rights reserved) (A combination of reality and a bit of the author's own imagination)
Wednesday, 7 May 2014
BORN-FREE and free to vote!
(First time experience of the South African National Elections, written through the eyes of an imaginary young girl living in Bekkersdal, Gauteng. WHEN WRITING THIS ARTICLE, I DEVIATED FROM POETRY AND JUST WROTE FROM THE HEART.)
I could feel the cold slightly wear off, and there was a faint ray of sunshine outside my window. I smiled as I looked through the half-drawn curtain, then switched on my almost broken radio. I hurriedly brushed my teeth, wore my favourite boots and threw my heavy, blue jacket over my skirt. I checked myself in the mirror and quickly tied my braids in a knot.
"Today is a special day," I mused as I sat next to Tata, quietly sipping on my favourite juice.
"Goodbye, everyone! See you at the voting site!" I shouted as I rushed outside, braving the brazen cold.
As I went, they came to mind. The late Nelson Mandela, Walter Sisulu and Chris Hani. I could also remember Lillian Ngoyi and Helen Joseph. They are among the many who bravely fought for our liberation. Some have since passed on peacefully, while others were mercilessly killed. Many others still live today, unfazed though their names are seldom mentioned. They are all pioneers of change, and they are the reason I'm free today!
The queues are long, yet I can't complain.
I am a born-free, and I am free to vote! Today is a special day, as I make my mark for the first time. I have freedom of choice, so I boldly cast my vote. I proudly kiss my inked thumb on my way out. There's an atmosphere of hope, unity and peace. There's a wind of change, and I know that God is here!
© Yvonne Mahlape Maserumule, 2014
(All rights reserved)
I could feel the cold slightly wear off, and there was a faint ray of sunshine outside my window. I smiled as I looked through the half-drawn curtain, then switched on my almost broken radio. I hurriedly brushed my teeth, wore my favourite boots and threw my heavy, blue jacket over my skirt. I checked myself in the mirror and quickly tied my braids in a knot.
"Today is a special day," I mused as I sat next to Tata, quietly sipping on my favourite juice.
"Goodbye, everyone! See you at the voting site!" I shouted as I rushed outside, braving the brazen cold.
As I went, they came to mind. The late Nelson Mandela, Walter Sisulu and Chris Hani. I could also remember Lillian Ngoyi and Helen Joseph. They are among the many who bravely fought for our liberation. Some have since passed on peacefully, while others were mercilessly killed. Many others still live today, unfazed though their names are seldom mentioned. They are all pioneers of change, and they are the reason I'm free today!
The queues are long, yet I can't complain.
I am a born-free, and I am free to vote! Today is a special day, as I make my mark for the first time. I have freedom of choice, so I boldly cast my vote. I proudly kiss my inked thumb on my way out. There's an atmosphere of hope, unity and peace. There's a wind of change, and I know that God is here!
© Yvonne Mahlape Maserumule, 2014
(All rights reserved)
Wednesday, 23 April 2014
WHEN MANDELA WAS FREED!
(Tribute to Tata Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela and to a free South Africa, written through the eyes of an eight year old)
When Tata Mandela was freed
God smiled, that I know!
The sun was shining bright
No speck of cloud in sight!
I was then only eight
An innocent, little lad
Yet Tata was so great
My dad had told me all!
It was a special day
Something different, something new!
There was a sound of cheering,
hooting and that of drums.
South Africa came alive
Mandela free at last!
Comrades chanting slogans
"Viva, Mandela, Viva!"
Chaos all around
My hero free at last!
I saw his smiling face
As I stood glued to the screen
No more anger, no more hate,
South Africa, do unite!
Quietly I said a prayer
Thanking Him for my friend
I then looked in his eyes,
"Wish I could touch his hand!"
© Yvonne Mahlape Maserumule, 2014
(All rights reserved)
When Tata Mandela was freed
God smiled, that I know!
The sun was shining bright
No speck of cloud in sight!
I was then only eight
An innocent, little lad
Yet Tata was so great
My dad had told me all!
It was a special day
Something different, something new!
There was a sound of cheering,
hooting and that of drums.
South Africa came alive
Mandela free at last!
Comrades chanting slogans
"Viva, Mandela, Viva!"
Chaos all around
My hero free at last!
I saw his smiling face
As I stood glued to the screen
No more anger, no more hate,
South Africa, do unite!
Quietly I said a prayer
Thanking Him for my friend
I then looked in his eyes,
"Wish I could touch his hand!"
© Yvonne Mahlape Maserumule, 2014
(All rights reserved)
Sunday, 13 April 2014
TRIBUTE TO ALL PARENTS WHOSE CHILDREN ARE BATTLING SUBSTANCE ABUSE
STILL MY CHILD
(Discovered that my tribute shares the same title as a song by Mary Mary)
I can feel the cool breeze;
wind blowing through the door.
Tears sting my eyes
as my weary heart recalls.
You were barely two,
still learning how to speak.
"Mama... Papa..."
the only words you could say!
I would reach to you,
holding you ever close.
I would feel your tender heart,
the warmth of your wholesome breath.
Gave you all you needed
My love, care, concern
You were always content
Though daddy was not there
You taught me how to love
and how to care with all my being.
Every moment spent with you,
teaching you one, two, three!
At age five
you and I were the best of friends.
We would play hide and seek,
word games, or Simon says.
"I love you, Mama!"
You would say, spent - ever tired.
"Goodnight, angel. Mommy loves you too!"
Now you are all grown
and all innocence is lost.
A tragic life of pain, insecurity
and no self-love.
Addicted to substance,
no concern for self, no care.
You are still my child,
and you are always in my heart!
© Yvonne Mahlape Maserumule, 2014
(All rights reserved)
(Discovered that my tribute shares the same title as a song by Mary Mary)
I can feel the cool breeze;
wind blowing through the door.
Tears sting my eyes
as my weary heart recalls.
You were barely two,
still learning how to speak.
"Mama... Papa..."
the only words you could say!
I would reach to you,
holding you ever close.
I would feel your tender heart,
the warmth of your wholesome breath.
Gave you all you needed
My love, care, concern
You were always content
Though daddy was not there
You taught me how to love
and how to care with all my being.
Every moment spent with you,
teaching you one, two, three!
At age five
you and I were the best of friends.
We would play hide and seek,
word games, or Simon says.
"I love you, Mama!"
You would say, spent - ever tired.
"Goodnight, angel. Mommy loves you too!"
Now you are all grown
and all innocence is lost.
A tragic life of pain, insecurity
and no self-love.
Addicted to substance,
no concern for self, no care.
You are still my child,
and you are always in my heart!
© Yvonne Mahlape Maserumule, 2014
(All rights reserved)
Monday, 3 March 2014
REEVA STEENKAMP: MY TRIBUTE TO YOU
REEVA STEENKAMP:
MY TRIBUTE TO YOU
Year gone by, yet we still remember.
You touched so many with the aura of your presence. Sweet memories of you; happiness that you lived. We remember you with sorrow, grieved that you left. No word spoken, you just slipped away.
Beautiful, sweet rose
cruelly plucked away.
You left too soon, no final goodbye.
Lustrous, fragile glass
shattered in pieces.
The Lord mend you beautifully, like the day you were first made.
We will see your beautiful smile as we gaze at the morning star. We will bask in the warmth of your presence whenever the sun shines at day. You are in a perfect place of safety, yet we still mourn.
Fly away, beautiful one, keep smiling right where you are!
© Yvonne Mahlape Maserumule, 2014
(All rights reserved)
MY TRIBUTE TO YOU
Year gone by, yet we still remember.
You touched so many with the aura of your presence. Sweet memories of you; happiness that you lived. We remember you with sorrow, grieved that you left. No word spoken, you just slipped away.
Beautiful, sweet rose
cruelly plucked away.
You left too soon, no final goodbye.
Lustrous, fragile glass
shattered in pieces.
The Lord mend you beautifully, like the day you were first made.
We will see your beautiful smile as we gaze at the morning star. We will bask in the warmth of your presence whenever the sun shines at day. You are in a perfect place of safety, yet we still mourn.
Fly away, beautiful one, keep smiling right where you are!
© Yvonne Mahlape Maserumule, 2014
(All rights reserved)
Sunday, 9 February 2014
Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela: Alive in our hearts!
TRIBUTE TO OUR FALLEN HERO:
NELSON ROLIHLAHLA MANDELA:
ALIVE IN OUR HEARTS!
It was a cold morning, here in the village of Mvezo, when we heard a child was born. He was named Rolihlahla Mandela and his clan name was Madiba. History had just been made, yet little did we know!
As you ran barefoot in the field, stick-fighting with your friends. As you walked in the rain, careless of your muddied feet. Did you ever think you would ever rise in stature? Did you know many would speak your name for years to come? Tata Mandela, we salute you!
An epitome of wisdom
Sower of hope
Valiant soldier
Ambassador of love and peace
Humble, yet so great, you live on in our hearts!
For our sake you gave up the warmth of family. All those years spent in a small, cold cell, your only friend was the pen; they say in difficult times the pen is the sword! I can almost see you reading through your secret diary, then suddenly you would smile as you lay on that cold bed thinking, 'One day soon, and history will be made!' Then in 1994 surely history was made!
You may be gone, yet you still live on. You are the rock of our nation, and children sing your praises. Through your life we learnt the power of forgiveness. Through your example we are stirred to love beyond race. No more hatred; forgiveness is strength. We walk in your footsteps as we build a united democratic republic. The seed has been planted and in a little while it will fully grow. We will pass on all you taught to future generations.
We remember the radiant smile and the humble gait of a giant. You sowed the seed and you ran your race well! Your work here is done, and now it's time to rest. Sleep in peace, Tata, until we meet again!
© Yvonne Maserumule, 2014
(All rights reserved)
NELSON ROLIHLAHLA MANDELA:
ALIVE IN OUR HEARTS!
It was a cold morning, here in the village of Mvezo, when we heard a child was born. He was named Rolihlahla Mandela and his clan name was Madiba. History had just been made, yet little did we know!
As you ran barefoot in the field, stick-fighting with your friends. As you walked in the rain, careless of your muddied feet. Did you ever think you would ever rise in stature? Did you know many would speak your name for years to come? Tata Mandela, we salute you!
An epitome of wisdom
Sower of hope
Valiant soldier
Ambassador of love and peace
Humble, yet so great, you live on in our hearts!
For our sake you gave up the warmth of family. All those years spent in a small, cold cell, your only friend was the pen; they say in difficult times the pen is the sword! I can almost see you reading through your secret diary, then suddenly you would smile as you lay on that cold bed thinking, 'One day soon, and history will be made!' Then in 1994 surely history was made!
You may be gone, yet you still live on. You are the rock of our nation, and children sing your praises. Through your life we learnt the power of forgiveness. Through your example we are stirred to love beyond race. No more hatred; forgiveness is strength. We walk in your footsteps as we build a united democratic republic. The seed has been planted and in a little while it will fully grow. We will pass on all you taught to future generations.
We remember the radiant smile and the humble gait of a giant. You sowed the seed and you ran your race well! Your work here is done, and now it's time to rest. Sleep in peace, Tata, until we meet again!
© Yvonne Maserumule, 2014
(All rights reserved)
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