To the worldThey call themselves The United Kingdom To their brown subjects They called themselvesGreat BritainOnce the savages ousted the crownThe Queen said ‘Child, Become a part of the Commonwealth’Though there was not much Common in our wealth Other than our rich imperial historyAnd the trauma in a tongue We share, named after One kingdomContinue reading “There ain’t no black in the Union Jack”
Author Archives: And why not
Bussing in Glasgow
Not that I like to, just that I have toBus through Glasgow, enduringThe rattles of motion sickness, As the change of commuters Shake the bus as a piggy bank.I turn up my headphones But cannot turn down the smell ofSmokers, stoners and homes withoutDryers. Mouldy clothes waft throughThe aisles of the bus. I try mindMyContinue reading “Bussing in Glasgow”
Leaving Home, Again
August arrivesWith its cold gustOf golden dustI am cladIn its jealous touchGaboroneTo someYou are a black holeThat eats hopeAnd swallows homesMaybe I’ve dodged itThe infestationWhen the termitesRavage the roots of my heartFrom the urban shootsOf city lifeI watch my friendsStruggle under the rubbleOf the current recessionThey are made redundantOverworked and underpaidLiving paycheque to paychequeOr offContinue reading “Leaving Home, Again”
Serowe is
The land of hills and wind,The light on the hillside,Where royals grow tall.From great rocks aboveRest the legends of the land,Overlooking the village,The Khamas in marble stand.Below the Bangwato roamLike sable antelope.Spread as fine as spiderwebs,They reside in the city and towns,Proud of their culture, our national history.It is from this tribe,My mother’s people come,ButContinue reading “Serowe is”
From the Hills of Gabane
Image taken from Reeca Travel It breathes and flows Down to the belly Of our city Gaborone. The Segoditshane River Has neither fortune nor fame, Its riverbed is made dead With urban waste and decay. It rests in peace And remains a getaway For crooks and thieves Whose den is in the green. Had GovernmentContinue reading “From the Hills of Gabane”
The Blank Page
A short piece on writer’s block The walls around me are as white as the page in front of me and as white as the sheet I’m seated on, until I shift on the sheet, “Oh sh*t, it’s now creased. Oh sh*t, it reeks.” Gas comes up like a kamehameha. Ahh, my nose! Those channeledContinue reading “The Blank Page”
15 August 2021
A poem for someone that I used know Her braids veil our faces,Not even the light might peekInto the inevitable touch of lips.There is no seeing in this moment,Only touching, tasting and listeningTo the heart’s drumming.These moments are like the Okavango Delta,Because this river will not reach the sea,Instead it shall congregate in hopes andContinue reading “15 August 2021”
Rude Youths
“Mma,” the constable said over the phone, “we have the boys. They are waiting for you at the Station in G-West.” About a half hour later, Danielle arrived. The station was empty and dusty. She walked slowly, supporting herself on her walking stick. The constable brought the two youths from the cell. He released hisContinue reading “Rude Youths”
100 times
A few weeks ago, my great grandmother turned one hundred years old. Imagine! The world was a very different place. In commemoration of this momentous occasion, I was asked to write a poem for her to be shared on her birthday. Here’s a live recording of it, but I have included the transcript below forContinue reading “100 times”
The A1* is
A stretch of strangersOn a tattooed tongueOvertaking then overtakenBy buses and trucks,Swallowed and spat.We share much common ground,The tread of tyres on the ground — Driving — it comes with camaraderie,Trying to arrive despiteThe hypnotism of waves of bladesOf golden grass and dabs of thorn trees.The glare of the sun watersThe road in a mirageToContinue reading “The A1* is”
Samuel Rubadiri 