Makhosonke Dhlamini

It's beyond metaphor, nor smile in oxymoron,
And lies in the hands of irony.
Only fragments in ink can define the monotony
Of politics punctuated by propaganda.
...

Ink  and Breath


Tragic ink, it paints clouds without rain,
...

He disappeared when autumn sang the last hymn.

Trees cogitate in silent and poetry shall not express grief; we shared shade while dismantle our problems
And
...

I chase illusion; despair descends
When the sun melts at noon, time reveals reality's truth.
Oh dear, whisper to my conscience:
A month has passed; the benches remain.
...

Five hundred twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes pass,
Frozen breath in mirrored glass.
Mist, like dew, upon the rose does lie,
Embracing petals, blue as morning's sky.
...

Cemetery 22, my ink lives on;
Nor is my mind poised, nor does it falter
In absurdity, a symptom of mirages.
The dead can't read or blink, it's true;
...

One road leads to two paths,
Destiny calls like a soothing symphony.
Your footprint longs for one,
Yet look far, your shadow is your companion.
...

If I die first, I'll kill the sting of death
With memories that forever breathe
I'll lay the carpet of white roses
To crown your with  love
...

Is it the name that carries weight?
Or the mind that sways the sea
Of thoughts that ebb and flow?
Or is it gift that beams light in wilderness,
...