Sicelo Sithole Poems

Gestures of wounds, my dark life unfound so bound in the shadows of grey mists
Treasures of pure gentleness, sounds so well curbed deeply within the black roses
Slaving dreams in voyages of my infinite joy, and all my thoughts shattering in my close sight.
My core being in agony, seeds of my peevish wisdom and all my laid scattered visions
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You are my flowers of gold,
You have preserved your beauty, yet in the days so cold.
Within the deep mysteries of love you have never sold,
Your serenity and the heart so bold.
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There is not a single word within the pages inside
This is a place where good thoughts use to reside
They say the author left to the world of the dead and the unknown
To search for answers of all the secrets hidden within the pages of this old diary
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Sea shores can sing praises of the dead and lonely shells
Words from the inside can gather sweet melodies unbound by evil spells
I am the architect of all these words building towers and memories I glide on
How much I love you can’t compare or even be shared within the hearts forlorn
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Mama is in pain
I know so, because she cries of wounds every now and again
I feel like I am responsible for the slay
All of my education and thoughts cannot fully pay
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With bended knees
Along those forbidden trees
I am stunned by all this fresh smell
It must be a bakery, a garden, a wheat valley or a poetry mortuary upon a spell
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The third and the last fourth quarters, made no sound at all
The first and the fourth parts built up a sound upon an old wall
There were scaffolds of gold, traces of all riches beside the fallen towers
It’s the first night at the Roman gates: the last finders are counting the lost hours
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I am the first and last religion, waiting patiently on all shores in every season.
Through the age I have stood, mastered all the tears of man that came and went.
For after some time I laugh, for my age sleeps kindly upon edges of rocks rough.
To the minds curious, I create pores for my peace and spaces where I only vent.
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Harvesting the past years of tears I reap the days of sorrow and years of self blame
My chances combining to my own world and true self, all the pain binding within a thought senseless
Many of my visions and dreams have faded, but the truth about me is still not born
The body, mind, soul and spirit is torn, but the blood and pride is forever shining
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