Ndaba Sibanda

Published: January 18th, 2015

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The General

what a voice he had
it tore through corridors
through windows and roofs

as he explained on the board
it echoed and reechoed and  ricocheted 
rendering loudspeakers totally   dispensable

they didn`t call him
the General for nothing
he was a raving and ranting teacher

at assembly he hardly addressed anyone
possibly the headmaster  had a hand in it
for they didn`t get on well with each other

teacher Mthembo worshipped the brown bottle
every day after work he dipped into it religiously
no wonder his voice was abrasive and booming

his unkempt hair missed the touch of a comb every day
had his body been tucked into new clothes before?
second-hand clothes were his hallmarks

learners said his head was full of mathematical formulas
others believed he only drank water via beer
his eyes were reddish and scary

some said he was funny  and frustrated
others said he had traditional woes
all agreed he was a genius

Too Little, Too Late

He extolled her as his gold indispensible,
Then stole her virginity and made her look disposable.

Her world collapsed on her
The moment he denied responsibility.

The culprit ran away and lived in another country,
And joined a music group and sang about true teenage love.

A year later homesick and frail-looking he returned home
Only to hear about a fatalistic baby-dumper gone beyond.

Caressing Cravings

 thirst for the sound of that voice
hungry for the warmth it brings forth
but the music is gone into inaudibility
the heat has hit its lowest and coldest ebb
 fond memories still flocking the mind
flooding the heart with crazy  cravings
longing for a time lost and never to be recovered
yearning for a touch gone and never to be stroked
aching for a sweetness gone sour  and never to be honeyed
hurting for a heart hidden and never to be rediscovered