Here is to friendship and his social calls
To the forgettable girlfriend introductions
And the noisy games with the boys
To the draining Sunday lunches
...
When the hunters are gathered
In hushed tones
Behind the thicket
Each signs out his intended prey
...
Behind her a posse of merry acquaintances and friends
She unpacked a clutch of expensively giddy bags
All over the room
...
They stare
Their eyes burning holes into me
Some searching me
Others looking right through me
...
As to the moretlwa tree
We get pulled by the bountiful
Sweetness of the fruits
And forget all about the ants
...
Today I saw a bright-yellow cactus flower
Cuddled between a group of hardy thorns
Remembering your farrowed face
I grimaced and plucked it out for you
...
There are many ways
To finding love
When it comes to having love
And keeping it
...
She
What a sack of hard muscled manhood!
Why does he lion me so with his catlike stare?
...
Who met happiness recently?
The puffy-eyed
Young couple next door,
Or the noisy
...
When the talking is quite
Of stories of loves
And how eternally we are bound
Each to their own love
...
She called me
With her starved tummy
With her pointing breasts
With her blowing lips
...
I recited a poem
As her expensive boyfriend half watched
Behind his Hustler sunglasses
And sat conversing with his single malt whisky
...
I saw you packing
Your overnight case
Was that love?
The red item you put at the bottom!
...
She showed me her naked flames
In the dead of winter
And begged me to not douse them
“At least not for tonight”.
...
If Love be so kind
As to return my misplaced feelings
That strangers trod and trample
Unkindly in the heat of summer
...
If only the lovers
Loved and kissed eternal
The world would be full
Of love and eternal kissing
...
She rushes right through my besieging despair
As I approach the house
Diffusing huffy thoughts
Into streams of calmness
...
My true love got lost
In her giddy run to my arms
Believed my neighbour’s house for mine
Took his coarse laugh for mine
...
First we saw the two long legs,
Perched on a pair of pencil-heeled Pradas
Stretch out of the Renault Cabriole
The toned body followed
...
Pontsho writes poetry both in English and his native Setswana. He is a well read poet and has written extensively on the evolution of Setswana poetry. He also coordinates poetry clubs in Botswana. Pontsho's poetry may be considered as a lighthearted look at life. His poetry and his style is not about being taken seriously, but more about laughing at oneself and their life. His multiple blogs on poetry can be accessed by searching the Web using his names.)
Here Is To Friendship
Here is to friendship and his social calls
To the forgettable girlfriend introductions
And the noisy games with the boys
To the draining Sunday lunches
And the child infested swimming pools
Here is to friendship and her happy wishes
To the cheery voice on my sleepy phone
And the popping messages on my stern laptop
To the happy card on my officious desk
And the fruity hamper on a day full of food
Here is to friendship and his invitations
To the multiple children parties
And the dreary cousin weddings
To the distant stag parties
And the bring your own fun barbecues
Here is to friendship and her doting children
To their relays in my yard
And the breaking of kitchen items
To their rowdy fights
And the mess around the house
Here is to friendship and his fun events
To the mosquito bites in the deltas
And the injuries in the theme parks
To the chilly winter nights in tents
And the unending days under camping trees
Here is to friendship and our deep understanding
To knowing when a surprise visit could make me happy
And when a cheery message is all I need
To sensing when an outing could do me good
And when toddler noise would do the trick instead