The Sharp End of Poetry

I write poetry because
I want to say something; because
I have something inside which
I wish to bring to the fore.
I write because
I can and have and will always do.
I write to right what I think is wrong.
I write with passion for
I write from my heart,
I formulate words with my mind and
I ink it down with my hands.
I write in an effort to empty myself; others cry but
I write.
I write from the perceptive
I am and will continue doing so because
I am part of that perspective.

This is not a poem.

Words...: Not Approved

Words...: Not Approved: "I am not alive to be approved by youNeither am I here to be told to go thereThe poems I write are not meant to please anybodyYour applause a..."

People Do Die

When we walk in the streets

And we are like insane, new

The people glee at us, walking

As if we will be here, forever

Walking on borrowed time

Forgetting that people die.

By: Keamogetsi j. Molapong

My Sleep

Again

I just lost

My sleep

To thoughts

Drenched in sweet

Underneath

My night pillow

Thoughts snatched

My sleep right under

My exhausted self

And braved the long road

To a land occupied by ideas

It was just a while ago

That I was under the spell

Of a heavenly tiredness

A drowsiness I embraced

And took myself to bed

Hoping to put my body

To a peaceful sleep, so deep

The heat wave would envy

Me, resting my body but…

Like a thieve

In darkness and night

My restless thoughts

Dragged the sleep

From underneath me

With so much purpose

That I ended up writing

This poem that is ending

By: Keamogetsi joseph MOLAPONG

Walking Talking

I walked and the people they talked

The people they talked and I walked

I walked and the people they talked

The people they talked and I walked

I stopped and the people they shopped

The people they shopped and I stopped

I stopped and the people they shopped

The people they shopped and I stopped

I asked and the people they answered

The people they answered and I asked

I asked and the people they answered 

The people they answered and I asked

I asked and the people they asked

The people they asked and I asked

I asked and the people they asked

The people they asked and I asked

By: Keamogetsi j. Molapong

Mass Diss’em-Stration

So they have won again

Celebrating our foolishness

Congratulating each other

In the dark corridors of greed

Gesturing in codes and signs

Learnt at meetings of meetings

A fire they started has been quilt

Smothered into silence and smoke

Jesters are kept quiet, silenced, muted

With promises of emptiness, nothingness

For their responsibility is to be irresponsible

Irresponsive and invisible but kept for their votes

Their numbers to swell the greed and corruption

Dressed in suites and political attires, smiles and teeth

Hidden behind the masks of promises and appointments

More bureaucratic structures put in place to protect kind and kin

By: Keamogetsi joseph MOLAPONG

This Poem

I woke up

And found

A short line

Of a poem

Lying abandoned

By the corridors

Of my creativity

I picked it up

And followed

The link it had.

Till it lead me

To a mic stand

Topped by a mic

Facing me, smiling

Linked the mic was

To an amplifier

To speakers

Staring at people

Waiting for meaning

To stream meaning

Through this mic

I walked back

To my corridors

To search within

The stacks and piles

Of poems to find

The rest of the poem

I am going to recite.

By: Keamogetsi joseph MOLAPONG

A Civil Thought

When civilisation

Bites on the tolerance

Of its citizens

What do politicians do?

They celebrate,

Appoint lawyers

And plan the next

Disastrous Project

When the armpits

Of civilization

Smells of arrogance

What do politicians do?

They pass new laws

To protect, save guard

Their personal interest

And frame the policies

By: Keamogetsi joseph MOLAPONG

* Dedicated to the struggling citizens of Stuttgart, Germany. Their cause is against Stuttgart 21.

SADC Poetry Festival

The idea of having a SADC Poetry Festival was not far fetched as already Windhoek and Gaborone have experienced the excitement of having poets from the region, workshop, share, recite and perform poetry indoors and more importantly outdoors. The ideal s to take poetry to the people, outside the comfort of walls and intellectuals to the people on the streets, in the open markets, shopping malls, etc. the SADC Poetry Festival is breaking the understanding that poetry is an elitist hobby. It is bringing the stink back to the word through performances in the dust and dirt where the majority of people live and interact daily.

The poetry network in the regions is certainly growing, as more and more poets are sharing platforms and ideals with each other. In so doing they are "cross fertilizing" each other.  Politicians called it regional integration and I call it a finding each other and celebrating our intelligence, creativity and lives  Where is the next SADC Poetry Festival, many  have asked me. Soon we'll all know. Hopefully we'll meet there, again.

For now I just want to encourage the poets to keep on writing and reciting their works. We write from the hearth and voice our feelings and fill our own emptiness with words.