Sister Poets speaking in woma-lingo tongues

Inside Unity Village, Kenya's sisterhood of empowerment where men aren't  allowed - ABC News

WORD is a force and within its etymology, has a force as mysterious and mythical as the cycles of life presented in a woman’s body. Womanhood is a tribe with two sides that push and pull, drawing in and drawing out to balance between the physical and the ethereal. A woman is a S/WORD, slashing self-preservation to indulge creation into the path of continuity. Her voice is a lullaby that soothes kings before they wear crowns of authority and high handedness. Her voice of a weeping window burying her soldier sons. She is the hearth that feeds life a protective shell to glimpse its first experience of all earthly journeys. To discount a woman is to discount nature’s benevolence in its ever giving nurture. To disparage a woman is to spit at the hand of creation that give so much grace to a creature that births itself and other. In cerebrating womanhood, great poetry was birthed. No one can judge the emotions and wisdom within the words neither can accurate value be stamped authoritatively upon any piece, for all without fail deliver a universal truth about the plight of women in their journey of holding their divine portion in sustaining and carrying on the mantle of living. Great voices that speak womalingo’ from WOWAWORDS recent entries delivered from their hearts and to other hearts. Ten pieces that speak as internationally as music does in its varied tones, tunes and crescendos from Caroline Akui of Kenya,  Nelani Goonawardena from India and Anya Wikramanayake
Sri Lanka, Colombo
. COVER PHOTO CREDIT to Catherine Magodo-Mutukwa. Together We Rise( Blurb by August  Edition  Guest  Editor , Nancy Ndeke).

High Quality Stock Photos of "mud hut"
(photo by Robert Harding , Google Photos)

The Higher Ground

They call it High End for a reason:

Because being there gives you the upper hand

By building your house on the rock

And not a castle in the air

You make sure that your dreams are not

founded on sand

And this, right here, is the Promised Land:

A portal, an interstice, an aperture

Everything that troubles us in the lowlands

And the flatlands

The quicksand and the Badlands

Dissolves up here, in the purer air

Love Song

I remember everything you have ever said

And the times and dates of every day we met

You told me this, and I could not match you

Word for word, moment for moment

To me it is like a lovely blurring dream

A veil which makes the world more bearable

A garment too costly in every seam

Which your generosity alone makes wearable

Touchstone

Each moment is all I can bear or inhabit:

confined in its contained space

I can float between all the extremes

that exhaust me so

Out of time’s strict specifications

One each instant, and the limits pressing in

A small distance away from you

A stone’s throw

devika34
Devika Brendon is a writer, teacher, editor and reviewer. She is Consultant Editor of FemAsia Magazine, and Editor of New Ceylon Writing. Her poetry and short fiction have been published in anthologies and literary journals in Australia, India, Sri Lanka and Italy, including MargAsia and Quadrant Magazine. She is also a columnist, whose opinion pieces and social commentary appear in Ceylon Today and The Sunday Island. Devika was awarded The Henry Lawson Memorial Prize for Poetry in 1989. 

THE KNOCKED UP EXPRESS

I met you at the end the gestation trip, at the birth station 
Having been on board the Pregnancy Express for nine months, in continuous motion

I was worried and anxious, as I painfully waited, amid other labourers’ commotion 
Who were also, impatiently, waiting for their special deliveries, as they paced up and down.

I couldn’t wait to meet you, I knew you were coming, way back at conception! 
God knows, I could have missed you altogether, Had I taken a train at contraception

It would have been sad, if any technical issues with the knocked up express, because then 
You wouldn’t have made it, to the end of gestation

I had heard, of people who chose the abortion destination 
I couldn’t let you get off at termination stop, or we never would’ve met, at delivery station

You made a grand entrance! Testing your lungs, you let out a scream 
That for a moment made everything, go in slow motion

I held you so tenderly, in my arms overcome with emotion 
And just like, set off to another, life journey, we hopped in another train

But this time you were accompanied by mom

©️ C Akui 2020/07/12

NO RUSH

Come in, take a seat 
Let me make you a cuppa tea 
I know how you like it

A mug of safety in the sisterhood 
Brewed without judgement

Two sugars of support 
With some conversation milk that uplifts

Cream cake of good ideas on the side 
Maybe some readymade savoury idea

From the feminist bakery 
On the how, and where to access to opportunity

We can look up some recipes if you like 
To add to your menu, customise to your like

I will make myself one while am at it 
Here you go, careful it might be hot 
No rush, we’ve got time for a hearty chat

©️ C Akui 2020/06/24

HELP ME RISE

What am I worth? 
How can you tell my worth? 
Is it by the number of beasts that bought me? 
Or how many children I can birth?

Am I worth my strength? 
How much land I can till, by noon? 
Or the sex of children I can birth?

What is my worth? 
How quickly I respond 
When you call me? 
Or how tasty the food I cook for you?

Maybe my worth 
Is decided by how good 
I am in bed 
And how well I can please you

Tell me how you decide my worth? 
Is it how much crap I can take and not complain? 
Be still, and grateful I have you? 
Is it how much of myself I give up, pleasing you?

Who decides my worth? 
Why am I responsible for your choices? 
Why does society excuse you? 
And blame me for a mess made by you?

What is my worth? 
When you take away my choices 
And society uploads you? 
Say am lazy and ask why I undermine you?

What am I, really, worth? 
When I have been to school 
But you still call me a fool 
Putting me down how is it cool

Can you see my worth? 
If you see a human in me? 
Value my worth, if, you see a sister 
See in me a mother maybe a daughter

I know, I am worth 
A lot more than I get credit for 
And I know there’s no you 
Without me!

Can you learn to see my worth? 
Treat me as am supposed to 
Value me and know my worth 
See and treat me NOT as an object

Acknowledge and value my worth 
We’ll all be better for it 
I take everyone with me when I rise 
See and encourage my strength as I rise

We are strong! 
When am strong! 
Don’t hold me down, help me rise! 
I promise it’s worth it!

©️ C. Akui 2020

Kathuu
CAROL AKUI was born and bred in Kenya. She gets inspired by the world around her, putting into words observations, feelings and her thoughts and those of others who share their experiences and feelings of what is happening around them.  Reading other poets also inspires her. She considers poetry and literature a mouth piece for the unheard and a tool for effecting necessary change where it is needed. Her poetry is a committed means to bring positive change. She is concerned about the downtrodden in society. She hopes her poetry can provide them with a voice and a platform to be heard. She also hopes that her poetry can connect people with their humanness and bring out the best in humanity.In her poetry, she is conscious of her African identity, values and culture and the need for positive advocacy. In order to flip the negative narrative of Africans and the African Continent. She is a wife and a mother of two boys.Carol is yet to be published for now. Her poetry appears on her Facebook and poetry groups such as Modern African Poetry.

Fears of becoming a mother.

Oh the fears of the most rewarding endeavor- motherhood.

to care, to nurture,

mere understatements of the

jobs a mother holds.

Fear? To become a mother

to my own child, or anyone’s child,

Or my child’s, child,

I cannot just be understanding,

gentle

For I must be strong and daring.

I must carry the fire that 

Every great woman should carry in their soul.

I cannot just hold my baby,

I must carry their potential.

I must ignite the light

To their life’s desire.

Fear?I fear

That the torch I carry 

The torch that’s passed down

From mother to child,

Will simply be too scary a task

To drop the torch and get burnt 

Burnt up and too hurt to heal.

What if I can’t heal myself

To nurture my child?

Fear?

For I cannot

Be a better,

or as good a mother,

As my mother was to me.

As she passed the light 

To me.

image1.png

Anya Wikramanayake , I’m almost 19 years old young woman living in Colombo , I have been writing ever since I was 12 years old.I write what I like and what I feel .I write to express and I share and hope other humans in the world find it all relatable.

Nothing, Something

Nothing.
I said
Nothing.
There was
nothing to say.
When it’s over,
It’s best to say
Nothing.
Everything,
has already been said.
And cannot be unsaid.
Nothing,
Is good.
Something, always comes out of
Nothing.
Something.
When there is
Nothing to say,
You feel you have to
Say Something,
Something
becomes
the wrong thing.
Sometimes,
Anything is the
wrong thing.
It’s best, not t

C360_2020-08-06-20-02-25-586.jpg
My name is Nelani Goonawardena. Writing and rhyming comes into my mind at the most impossible and awkward times.Sometimes I can’t pin the thought down and have to run behind it.Sometimes it slaps my face and never leaves me.I write for my pleasure. I like my readers to feel suspended, argumentative,  haunted, and once in a way I want a bubble of laughter in their hearts. I am 63 years old, and babysit my granddaughter three times a week. My husband is a stray dog feeder (after retirement ) and our house is a refuge for battered dogs… (who have now assumed the role of dictators and happily and conveniently erased memories of their past .)I love where I am in my life. I teach English Language /Spoken English /and Communication skills

.

SHE IS WISDOM

She conceives it in the depth of her womb

From inception to incubation

Each second numbered, calculated to the trimester

Preparing for the birth of a new generation

In her very mind resides the basic foundation and the necessary nuggets

To instill, inspire, equip, encourage them

For a better, brighter, fruitful future

Her name is wisdom and her strides pronounce peace

Her heart of gold oozes compassion, kindness and love

With her hands she keeps all safe from harm

With her strong back she bears their every burden

She is the fire, destroying each evil while keeping the weak and weary warm

You will be wise to keep her close,

Even closer never lose her hold

You will be inspired at her feet

Her whispers are worth beckoning

Because she is the answer in times of confusion

Her soft tongue breathes life in their last breath

Wisdom and power are in her crown

She is the one who will bring the world to one,

United together through love.

Unity, Love, Peace, Wisdom

Her tears flow from her heart

Bleeding for the injustice of the oppressed

Daily the poor are exploited

For nothing more than a piece of bread

Yet she stands firmly

She lays her life for their happiness

For she understands they too are human

And have rights of passage to all good things

Many have labeled her

Too emotional and physically weak

Her judgement is biased they say

Because she thinks with her heart

Yet this is her secret reservoir for strength

There she draws her courage,

Her core beats rhythmically with the unmistakable Chorus of love.

She takes in all that life throw her path

Yet she keeps not silent when her own is mistreated

Even when they gag her, confining her voice

Her low murmurs are louder than their loudest laughs.

Wisdom has taught her everything she knows

Every human life matters and should matter to all

Even when pain, ridicule and torture was the order of the day

Wisdom still flows in the thickest doses

Her prayer, that someone somewhere somehow

Finds her, finds wisdom!

Lingiwe Patience Gumbo is a musician, author and poet inspired by love, her faith in God and life experiences. The wife and mother of two, seeks to inspire, motivate, encourage and soothe the soul with all her work.

The Iron Glass

She is like a glass of iron and steel,

Always strong yet fragile,

She is the propelling power behind,

All the blossoming and bouncing lives.

With her hands her house stands

The community is glued together by her selfless love,

She doesn’t waver;nor does she chicken out,

Whatever she puts her hands on becomes alive.

Her name is woman; strong minded is the woman,

Taking risks to mould, build and rekindle,

The dying she revives

And a smile is all she cares to bring the desperate.

Being a mother is the biggest pride, her joy,

She brings new life, and conquers black darkness,

Her courage fights the foe and brings deliverance,

Lives are sustained by her boldness.

Being her is priceless,her sacrifices timeless,

To conquer, yes! Conquer all the pains,

And see the dream fulfilled,

Of building yet another life.

For she is a woman

Anne Njenga composes English and Swahili poems. She writes short stories in English and Swahili. She is also a storyteller. She also writes novels. She is a volunteer radio presenter with a certain local radio and she does voicing for the same station. She is a professional teacher in a village school at Kiambu county, Kenya.

High Quality Stock Photos of "mud hut"

WOMAWORDS AUGUST EDITION Guest Editor

Nancy Ndeke is a multi-genre writer. She writes poetry, hybrid essays, reviews, commentary and memoir. Ndeke  is widely published with four collection of her full writings Soliama Legacy, Lola- Logue , Musical Poesy  and May the Force be With you. She has recently  collaborated with a Scotland-based Writer  and Musical Artist,  Dr. Gameli Tordzro of Glasgow University on the Poetry Collection Mazungumzo ya Shairi, and  also  co-authored the poetry anthology , I was lost but now am found with USA Poet Renee Drummond  -Brown . She contributes her writings to the Atunis  Galaxy Poetry ( Belgium), TUJIPANGE AFRICA( Kenya, USA), Ramingo Porch, Africa Writers Caravan , WOMAWORD Literary Press, BeZine  for Arts and Humanities( USA), Andinkra Links 5,  Wild Fire Publication, Williwash Press, The poet by day webzine, Writers Escape at Poetry, Different Truths, ARCS PROSE POETRY. Nancy Ndeke  also works as a literary arts consultant, copyeditor and  Writers’ Clinics Moderator.

WOMAWORDS PROJECTS CURATOR

Mbizo CHIRASHA ,Freedom of Speech Fellow to PEN- Zentrum  Deutschland,Germany. Alumni  of the International Human Rights  Arts Festival in New-York, USA.Literary Arts Activism Diplomatie.  Globally Certified  Arts Mediums Curator and Influencer. Internationally Published Page and Spoken Word Poet. Writer in Residence.  Arts for Human Rights Catalyst.  Core Team Member of the Bezine Arts and Humanities Project. His illustrious poetry , hybrid writings , political commentary ,short fiction , book reviews  and Arts Features are published in more  than 400 spaces notably the Monk  Arts and Soul in  Magazine  in United Kingdom. Atunis Poetry.com in Belgium. Demer press poetry series in Netherlands. World Poetry Almanac in Mongolia.Poesia journal inSlovenia. Bezine Arts and Humanities Webzine in USA. The Poet a Day in Brooklyn ,USA. Litnet Writers Journal in South Africa. African Crayons in Nigeria. Poetry Bulawayo in Zimbabwe. Pulp-pit USA.the FictionalCafe international Journal , Texas USA. Best New African Poetry series in Zimbabwe, Zimbolicious Poetry Collections in Zimbabwe. Co-edited Street Voices International Publications with Andreas Weiland  in Germany.Co-Edited  Silent Voices Anthology, a Tribute to Chinua Achebe. Co-Edited the Corpses of Unity,solidarity collection to victimized Cameroonians with Nsah Mala. Curated and Edited the Zimbabwe We Want Poetry ,Inside Digraceland speaking poetic truth to the Mugabe regime and other bad regimes.  He owns the Time of  the Poet blog zine ,MIOMBOPUBLISHING that published the #GlobalCallforPeaceProject titled the Second of EARTH is Peace.A LETTER to the PRESIDENT his experimental  resistance poetry collection was released  in August 2019 by Mwanaka and Media Publishing.. Co- Authored Whispering Woes of Ganges and Zambezi with Sweta Vikram in India. Good Morning President his first poetry collection was published in 2011  by Zimbabwean published based in United Kingdom, Diaspora Publishers.COVID 19 Satansdeadly fart is forthcoming. Chirasha is  Founder  and the Chief Editor of Brave Voices Poetry Journal, https://bravevoicespress.home.blog/ 

 WOMAWORDS LITERARY PRESS- A Trendsetting Digital Arts Culture Thicket archiving creative resilience and artistic excellence. It is a platform to exhibit women of literary arts prowess and revolutionary sister comrades defying ugly odds of barbarism , chauvinism and savagery to positively change their communities through artistic resistance , to right the wrong perceptions as they carry the torchlight to stardom. WOMAWORDS is Haven of Head -busting Short Fiction . Nerve -Shredding Poetry And Mind -Blowing ARTISTIC Profiles* -Authored and Curated by 2020 Freedom of Speech/Literary Arts Activism Culture Fellow at PEN-Zentrum Deutschland, Germany, Award Winning Poet , Widely Published Essayist Writer , Creative Arts Activism IDEAS Curator and Literary Arts Projects Diplomatie,MBIZO CHIRASHA

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