I am just a simple girl, who has grown to become a woman who cannot help but go through life feeling.
I have often feared that someday I will feel too much, even for my own heart and mind to comprehend, and that is the reason why I would rather much prefer to write it all instead.
I love writting poetry it is the only place where I can say things that I feel and see without ... more »
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Khethiwe Ramathuthu Poems
My Father’s Name
I am my father’s daughter. I carry his name with pride and honour.
My mother in law
My mother in law is from a different world from mine, raised to uphold different traditions and values. She is Venda and I am Swati, she cannot speak my language and neither can I speak hers. She is my husband’s heart, he loves her so.
My Love Song To My God
How wonderful and beautiful you are? How excellent, pure and powerful you are?
What matters is how you see me
I am beauty in your eyes. I am queen, I am mother and I am provider.
Tell Me, Were You A Man
Mandela wa Nsondo were you man? Were you man that you loved and forgave just like the son of God who forgave His oppressors?
The Reason Why I Sing
To be blessed and kept by the grace of God. To be the beloved and privileged to have the knowledge of Him, It is the reason why I sing, it is the reason why I am filled, and it is the reason why I stand.
Be Still My Heart
When you want to cry, stop because look Jesus loves you and he is saying breath I have got you. Be still, …….
Death comes like a small breeze in the night sneaking in on all the unsuspecting only to kill the fire that burns on the candle light. Kwa cima izibane, the light is gone, when death comes.
Have you forgotten how to love me
Have you forgotten how to love me? You used to hold me up like a trophy you could not put down.
Hello My Friend
Hello My friend Oh, how I have missed you.
My son’s name is Lufuno and I swear he is love himself. His face is love, his smile is love, everything about him is love.
Where are the men?
Hee hee nibo yelele kani, where are the men? Cries a woman lifting her hands to her head, as she walks into her shack to find her two year old daughter whom she left playing outside not far away from where she was hanging her clothes raped.
Let Me Praise You In My Trials
Ululating to the top of my voice saying Bayethe Ngwenyama yeZulu, Lion of Juda, the Rock of ages because I know Victory is mine.
Whose Story Is It To Tell?
And why after so many years do we still feel that there should be secrecy around it? Why is it still a disease that people feel they have to be ashamed of, that they have to defend themselves for having it, as
Comments about Khethiwe Ramathuthu
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My Father’s Name
I am my father’s daughter.
I carry his name with pride and honour.
His name is not that of kings, or that belonging to a chieftaincy, but it is one that commands respect that he has earned.
Yes I am my father’s daughter and I carry his name with honour and pride.
This is the name that he made for himself, he was 13 years old when he ran away from home in Mpumalanga and made his way to Pretoria.
He slept in construction pipes and he worked in white peoples gardens to earn a living.
What he is now, what he became is a testimony of God’s hand and a willingness of...