Biography of Matlapa Maphologela
I'm a Poet and a writer born a small town in Limpopo called mookgophong between mokopane and modimolle.
Matlapa Maphologela's Works:
Words Are Things
- Dear Lover -new-
Matlapa Maphologela Poems
I'm addicted to words, drink letters, eat phrases and paraphrases. Few see my behavior relate me to a poet.Others say I'm a writer.
I started being addicted to words when I was 17, life taught me the meaning of them as I grew older. went thru the modules named situations, I learnt and passed few, others to re-do in the next semester. Far from graduation, the course it's Profession in my own field. Enjoying daily lessons and weekly assignments, well prepared for semester tests and yearly examination.
I Was There
Early in the morning I heard the sound of a chicken, woke up and went there. To a place called work by many and making a living by few. There where I create future structures with present planned drawings. We did them all.
Life goes around in cycle, it's direction it's clockwise, going tic tac as a second to get to a minute.59 minutes left not far from an hour. So fast a day is as old as 23 hours 59 minutes and 59 seconds, don't look away because the calendar will change to the next day.
Your the star, you make me appreciate beauty of the night. You shine lonely among the rest, you remain bright. Your the one that I look upon. With or without moonlight you're my lullaby, I fall asleep to the picture you give me. In the frame of darkness only you brings light.
It was on some point I knew the view was special, moment was selected by time and a story has to be told. Through the lance of that camera, you took a portrait. The story was told by an author named press.
Let's Go Don't Let It Go
I say to you the alarm ring and the birds sing, In the early hour of dawn the sky is light and the sun is raising. From far east, sun begin to travel west, Look to the clock, take your head off the pillow and hold on to that dream to be a success. Vuka,
Hard Labour Sweat
My mother mothered me, She mothered me with all the hard-work she did in someone's kitchen and feed me with their remaining food as a child. I remember she told me a story about my grandmother being a house-helper like she is. I got anger with the legacy chain of their blood line, I studied hard and varsity pulled me down with their high fees. Would be doomed to continue hard labour sweat like my mother. My father fathered me,
I took few rands in my pocket and bought a 660ml of castle lite not only to remember the class of Charles Glass but to enjoy the moment. In a process of emptying a bottle of creativity, I got 4% of alcohol in to my stomach to digest yet got myself in meeting with me, It was just for a little while before I level up a bottom of bottle with my forehead.
It felt like that song, that touches my heart, soul, mind and body; I knew I can turn up the volume and listen to it catching the beat of my heart. Flowing with the stream of my blood, from top of my head to the tips of my toes. As I press repeat to begin the thousand miles journey to love, care, beauty and fearless land; with only two feet, fire in my soul, hope in my eyes, strength on my body. Knowing I have 1000 miles to go before finish line, I started enjoying the journey.
Lost In Moments
I met her online, she hugged me offline. It was like love at first side, feels developed faster. we kissed and started visiting each other, the bond grow bigger. It was meant to last. Days became longer without her presence and shorter when I was with her. The relation went far with full of lies, little truth told it was a rough few years. Like was in all the celebrations we had, pictures we took for remembrance deleted and burned.
We are people, all humanbeings. Personal and emotional we all get, Race to be among the rest, not far from our own.
Went through the morning of day, it lead to an afternoon and always knew I have a date with night. I lived it. It was partly cloudy with abit of lite rain, later felt the heat of sunlight and became part of the weather. I felt it.
I'm addicted to words, drink letters, eat phrases and paraphrases.
Few see my behavior relate me to a poet.Others say I'm a writer.
Yes am an addict, driven by motivation and inspiration.
Rehabilitation is so out of mindset.
Being high with knowledge fulfill my existence.
#Poet Matlapa Maphologela