to be African, to be Woman, to be Creative, to be Fashionable, to be Intelligible, to be Beautiful.....to be IMARA

imara by Mshana

imara by Mshana is the canvas and the pages on which I curate and display the life I wish to create for myself and others. I explore there my passion for fashion, present my literally inspired visual arts, write my visual arts inspired written works, share my linguistics, travel diaries, show my finding comfort in food, and heck, whatever else I feel like... Welcome and enjoy!

Posts tagged Poetry
Once

We close and lock our doors from the inside to keep out the men we fear and keep in the ones we love.

From the inside, so that when the ones we love want to leave, they can simply open the door and walk out of love from us.

Inside so that we can open the doors and walk out of love from them or open the door so that we can let new ones walk into our love.

We can’t help it though if the men we let in or those who are already in our lives betray us.

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Euthanasia

Time of death, 12:07 am. May her soul rest in peace!

He pulled the knife she had been using to chop up the sweet potatoes they were to have as a midnight snack and pierced it straight through her heart. Just like that, she fell dead on the floor and her last words were written in her blood.

“You owe my unborn daughter her last name. I may forgive you but she will forever haunt you.

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Searching for him

The truth is, after our fight last night, I don’t know if I am blinded by love or empowered by it to see through the thick layer of “MAN” you seem to be putting up. You seem to have me convinced that you, despite the hurt marks you leave on my body every night, are the one who left that heart mark on my heart, because my heart can’t seem to leave you…it just loves you.

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The new god

I dream of being rich and traveling the world to see beautiful landscapes and breathe fresh air.

A voice inside of me mocks me and says, “I hope technology would have figured out ways of stopping global warming by then, because as long as technology causes global warming, and climate change persists, there will be no fresh air for you to breathe and no landmark for you to see.”

I exorcise the ridiculous
thought! How dare I question the power of future technology? I repent and confess the god’s prayer:

Our Scientists, Who hail in labs

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I am not a love poet

I am not a love poet but your kaleidoscope eyes had me listen to that song again. It goes like; “I met a strong, dark and handsome man and I’ve been busy making big plans. But no one needs to know right now. I’ll tell him some day, some way, somehow. But I am gonna keep it a secret for now.” It makes me wish I were a love poet.

See, I am really not a love poet but if I were…

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Letter to an African child

Dear child,

Mungu made you from my fertile soil and I bore you as seed. Grow! My fertile soils support those of your kind. If baobab seeds grow into strong trees so shall you. You will be firm and you will be big, hard to ignore because your leaves in the fall will fall and because your branches will be long and your body wide, you shall leave a piece of you far and wide.

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Bleeding

I am bleeding. Not the kind of bleed that symbolises endings and letting go of dead things within but the kind that symbolises murderous commentaries that killed souls, and beings, and dreams. Because with every unreturned ‘I love you,’ I hurt. They say words cut deep but I think silence cuts deeper especially when he is the one who makes love songs for you much deeper.

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