CAROL ANANDE -Poems

Nilianza kuandika mashairi mnamo mwaka 2003 hivi. Niliona jinsi salama ya kunakili mawazo yangu, ndani ya 'diary' pasipo wengine kujua naongelea nini. Ni vyema niandike kwa ushairi.

So to date poetry is my therapy, below is a sample of my prized pieces. With an evolving opinion of the same of course.

Karibu....




Paint me


I actually co-owned this room, GOD/Ess #TendaiKaronga bless
Angels FIRST
Nothing inconsequential resides with a soul
That magical essence that's present now
Yet gone with the ceasing of breath
Illusive yet so tangible as it mounts beings

Perplexing of them all, the human specie
Journeying through different skins, in woman & man kin 
Yearning for a better deal, always attempting to be expressed
Where the mind deciphers, new ways to exist

Through the meander of experience
Capturing reflections of itself in deeds
As the soul whispers in relationships
My FIRST Super Friend, I call her PEN
oh in the back is me...#CollegeThang
That sears the connection between ALL

Painting this rich mosaic
Is why I write

And so I write
To peel the layers of what makes us human
To retain the connection so we don’t forget
How odd it is to have breath in human vest
To shout on a mountain crest
The stories from my part of the world

I write to 
Waken me to my mess, 
So I can stop rushing lest I stumble
In quick judgment, aggression, the me first
So I can extend my hand to know that breaths
Among us all are precious 

I write so
I can look in the eyes of different
My love of Natural Hair, returned
post my College days, I think it's going to stay
#MabutuKufumuliwa
And see me
So I can connect that trigger
In the twinkle of an eye as I understand
Another’s action, walk in their shoes despite
My reactions

I write to
Work my fingers till they bleed out
Any insecurity that I matter

You matter












Calm Seas…



Reflective I am
On low dhows turbulence I feel 
But all through reflective is me
@LakeDulluti Love my Country, Love Nature...

Andrea Bocceli, Barry White 
Make me feel, a thousand years lighter
Thought my youth could flutter, but hey
In this sweet mind is laughter

When I recall moments of total freedom
In a love’s presence or friends sentence

Reflective I am
On Low dhows turbulence I feel
But here I can be real…

And with no hindsight just feel……
Instead of seeing the crazy sea
Diverge to the wonders sealed
In teal waters, imagination spiels

Reflective you are
On these low dhows turbulence you ride
All through with candor and pride...


“So I have….


You make me, relieve a moment
When love has no comment
You make me, sit still take breaths be real
Rita & Dennis, I went to Kipaimara with Rita and Dennis
tulisoma wote ESACS--#SmallWorld :)

No am lying, I am in time woman
Where I can; No you allow me to be
Nowhere was I aware that love could honestly be
Or is it that here, I finally see

That I have fallen in love, all thru rising with truth
Being, twisted but never losing the beat
As here really, I have found my heat
No matter how windy or chilled 

You make me, relive a moment
When love has no comment
You make me, sit still take breaths be real

I walk, I taste, the fruit I dare not waste
Though perfection, is the real goal
In love, here I live, no toll
Just breaths taken, kama zilivyo

Moment to moment, here’s my prayer
That this love is not confused, with past love
That this sharing is honoured, for its own dare
But still I will accept that

You make me, relieve a moment
When love has no comment
You make me, sit still take breaths be real…

Found my upmost reveal….”



The Whisper…

 A reflection of my gas stove onto the fridge wall 
adjacent. There was no power hence the 
reflections are candlelight and gas light

She would tell me
In the space between heartbeats
Feel the exhale from earth
Coursing through feet to your fingertips
Alerting you to the whisper of touch
Beckoning you to listen for the precise in creation

Is there peace in Africa?

Amidst the dirt roads of cities in confused architecture
Gusts of wind carrying us on rushed mosaics of functions
Aboard the ‘teksi, matatu, daladala, or bodaboda’
With smells of sewage, fried plantains and exhaust fumes not a bother
Still... there’s a bird of unified victory flying high

He would tell me
Look for it, in the rhythm of our gait
The creativity of our food
The clicks of our tongues,
The resourcefulness of the calabash
In the kitenge, kente, indigo and batik sash
Pinpoint her wings


So you always know you can look up
To draw inspiration from the majesty of the clouds
Resting in the assurance of traditions
That paid attention to the whisper


We Have Failed


Men and women of your country Eden
Taken in Nungwi Zanzibar
, Tanzania-
Truth to you is besmirched
The wonder of enjoying the complexity
Of being human repressed

How we communicate
For eons has been with variant dialects
Today it boils to two, the one closer to you
Sullied to the background a foreigners tongue more relevant
We Have Failed

On the human evolution of Matriarch to Patriarch finally Worldiach
We’re still stuck at Patriarch, so girls are women too quick
And boys are men too slow, following fatherless and motherless children
As babies find the mother too tired and the father too childlike
We Have Failed

Looking at how we worship the divine
Now we’re called by bells from ancient lands, Latin and Arabic chimes
Worse still my sister I will harm if she dares think we’re one
Zimbabwe, Mutare-March'15

Pity I do the ‘pagan’ who maybe best reflects my ancestors’ times
We Have Failed

And so it goes we live in a land
Where old women are still burned at stake called witches
Where religion isn’t personal choice but conducts voice
Where a mob can publicly strip me, throw kerosene and burn me
Where logic ends at getting today’s meal forgetting tomorrow’s bills
We Have Failed

We’ve failed to look ourselves in the mirror and see
That our society had Post Traumatic Stress
From enduring the colonial mess
In going back to build our nest; we were ill equipped needing rest
Alas we neglected the signs, took to quick fixes and now we whine

Better to look in the mirror and agree
We Have Failed



Sina Kitu...?



On my chair in my Home Office
Waniona na mavazi ya kifahari
Moyoni hujui yangu mandhari
Kwenye fikra sijui kipi
Cha uzito, ila ya bidi
Nijione nnacho, kitu

Kwani natakiwa kukidhi
Majukumu ya mavazi yangu
Kutoka tabasamu, mpaka kalamu
Kulikoni, hamna utamu?

Au sina kitu?
Chenye uzito
Kwani navyozidi, kudanganya
Ndo najificha na vijito
Vya ukweli visivyoficha
Ninacho kitu

Japo sio gari, wala cheti
Vazi au vijisenti
Bali pumzi yake, mwenyenzi
Najua kwenye yangu Mawazo
Kuna mbegu yenye upato

Wa kheri hadhi na hekima



Raptured Moments


I love silver rings...go figure oh the Frangipani
too :)
Cut through this lethargy
The rope is still thin, the banks too wide
Relief is at hand, when you understand
Paddling away to the place, where I Scream

In jazz notes, raw ambition
Delivering me to raptured moments
Sunsets over horizon tokens
I’m abode a telegraph

That’s sending shards of disaster
Away from the nails of my anger
Taking away my exhaustion
Replacing it, with completed stabs

Jerking the flesh apart, that arranges 
Hope in reflected affection
See where do the waters dry,
When my vagina walls cry?
Bleeding, shrivelling into lies
With my face drained of lustre

No, I’ll assert that I am seeping away
From this canvas of twisted love
Till I’m satisfied in observing
Learning to breathe, after being loved, yet not sway
From the hangover of grinding hips
Satisfied in the perspective, of being adored & being alone

I am Adored AND I am Alone



To Inner beauty

Mino Shister, the only one I got
#DamuNzitoKulikoMaji

Shine with a dart of devilish
Clench with a fist of love 
Adore with the gift of perseverance
And always give, with a heart full of joy

As you’re dancing to employ
The elements you’ve been blessed with, enjoy
The moment when you can be still


Frozen with a smile, after a long till

Scrambling to find your inner beauty
A search to harness, your abilities
For in there is a wisdom, continuance, You
Claim him/her fully, wherever however you can

As you’re dancing to employ 
The elements you’ve been blessed with, enjoy 
The moment when you can be still

Frozen with realisation,

You Are Here Feel, Heal, Deal 




Cocoa Wombs

I feel the tease of the peacock
Back in 2013 I think, with my Soul
Sista Tendai Karonga
As I stare past the gates 
Flesh the moments that say
Despite my lack of polished nails
Articulate letters from my hands
I Am of the Sunday greens

Though calloused hills and the sun reveal
The ink of my sores
In digging too deep without a hoe
For my business link, my babies milk
Still ask for more

Do cocoa wombs speak?
Hold hands, repeat
The spell that scrapes away
My shame oozing from the iris…

Survivors of holy wars, do not complain
Behind the closet doors is books, what is a home
without BOOKS :)
Lest their protest invoke a land mine
So you recede to ghost mimes
Echoes of how we’d be, if we loved

Left and right, a lot more survived
She lost a limb, you severed an arm
These skeletons of war, ask us to soar
Cause it’s no longer pitch dark

It’s no longer pitch dark


Corrugated Streets…


Work is my glory
Yet here I go, slipping again
We’re trekking up the mountain
With fellow Vocalist, Beat Boxer JB 'Ruganji' doing a
poetry piece @ Lyricist Lounge in Dar
Two steps in, I am gushing for breath
Will we reach the summit ? Not on this earth

I live in a world, where we solve our crimes in the ‘Afterlife’
‘Yani tuombe Mungu tu’
But there is fairness, on these corrugated streets
Through the peephole of barking mom’s
Are scales of justice more deft than court
The streets know who’s bought

Ours is a cheap shack, we’ve just come out of prison
Don’t expect miracles from us
Perhaps the glorified reason 
To live today as though, there’s no tomorrow
Don’t expect plans from us, we stink of suffocating routines
PTSD is not a myth on the cocoa skin

with fellow poets @ZuLioness & Kabubi

Herman
‘Lakini Mungu anajua…’
That the snitch is walking among us
Always ready to report our moves back to the Warden
So our Tanzanite is stolen, so our Land is eroded
So our Children keep hearing, a her-story from the Wardens perspective
Time to call out the snitch, hiding behind this coffee melanin

So we stop selling our sores to the highest bidder
Riding once again in the incarcerated pillars
Of ‘you’re nothing but a Nigger!’

Mine Again…


This smile is mine again…
The joy of a good fabric, that much more my quest again
This body is mine always
Has always been mine, even when I let go to life

With my Soul Sista Martha Zambetakis
The wind is mine again, not clothed in scents of a love
No this smile is mine again
Mine again….that moment on the moonlight
Mine again, that acknowledgement on zilch
Mine again the kids, wanting jersey’s giving feats

This tear is mine again,
For losing a spirit who moments lifted; space shifted
This gear is mine again
I burn

Burn the fear, burn the idea, burn, burn, burn…
Taken in Dar es Salaam my city of residence
-June'15 notice the early moonlight
To smithereens the idea, that I owned a life
The idea that there’s no sacrilege,
When I don’t defend my tear
You see right here.
This smile is mine again

To the rest of world, not close or intimate…
I’ve emerged more aware, 
Nature is speaking, more luminescent
And I in turn give, more present 

Herald, shout and praise, 
Dear Heaven and Grace…
Love is great but gosh oh gosh, 

THIS SMILE is MINE AGAIN.

The Chorus


Wake me to the smell of your hints
The callous of your wits
The gaps in between your success
Let me cherish the solid of your bliss
Photo by Nicholas Calvin, I'm in love with his
aesthetic eye


As sitting under a tree, on a Sunday
afternoon
Leaves glistening with golden rays
I am looking at your feats,
Calculating the gaps between your falls

Wake me to the chorus of your being
The mundane of your DNA,
The shrill of your laugh, the tempo of your gait
Allow me to see the wonder of your emotion

The fragile of its connection 
To experience and circumstances
So I can pick out the threads 
That weave the fabric of you

I’m tracing your palm lines
So I can catch the scent of your peace
Where you shed a relaxed sigh
From the belly to your feet

Forgotten Garden


Tilt the curtains take a snapshot
Insta hooks, tweeting birds, facing books
I’m travelling back to triangle roofs
With elephant grass, ‘kigoda na ngoma’
Shrines of a forgotten order

Taken In Morogoro, Tanzania
I could lose myself not explore
The limbo in my eyes
Invite the invisible bars, halting my steps
See there they are, careful don’t trip on this terrain
It’s a work in progress

Come in ‘karibu’, there’s a seat on your right
This is a quite meet of minds
In a forgotten garden
With tears on the bees of these flowers

Karibu, take your shoes off explore
Where gravestone and pyramid tombstones
Commit to making peace,
See I’m no more about African over western seals

In here the talk is a lot more personal
My extended flesh, my Siblings....No words for the Love
felt as Dada Mkubwa :)
Vines of soul meander on the seabed of persistence
We can fix this broken fishnet…!
So close the blinds, as there’s no warmth in media hype
Arrive in nines, philanthropic times
Explore magic in the quiet of contemplation

Before blood spilled as aching sweat from ebony skin
Trauma resulting in lives, meandering with no sense of ‘we’
I sit here still, asking you to explore the limbo in my eyes
As I am too scared to touch the hope barking from this divide



Peeling the layers



Dare I look at my Ego
Watch closely as she claims ‘she’
As she mounts ‘artist’
As she marries ‘spiritual’
Dare I look?


Peeling the layers to the fabric of Soul
Dare I book
Love slowly till I’m hooked
Cook freely knowing it’s true
Body thrives in movement and pause
Energy found in nature’s preservation cause

Offering the response to the truth
I am In, Out 
Photo taken by friend Fine Artist Gadi Ramadhan
in a light moment from my phone
Dare I say
Ego and Soul sometimes I sway

Wondering where she ends and awareness trends
Where Poet is silenced and wisdom is smiling
Observing the serene in creation from me & you
Oh but fellow beings human on this earth
Dare I confess?
I sometimes don’t get our mess 
The mess of not letting young cocoa girls
Get on with her education vest 
The mess of destroying our environment
Without cherishing how our ancestors felt
By living so camouflaged to their surroundings

Then again Ego and finger
On this keyboard they say, let’s press the trigger
Tell Being human & Spiritual singer
It’s not okay to linger in the wait,
Waiting to come together and mould this East Africa
So me and you can dare look, dare book, dare confess
We’re not a mess


Rather a creation that bless, a creation that bless…



Cold Strings 


Tear the strains that look to hear the wail
That escapes parched lips
Loved this book, it's resting on my 'Ngoma'

Skin rough, with no sheen
It’s a Sunday morning but there’s no dream


Then there’s a string it winds and bleeds music
Its cow skin, it’s beaten and it bleeds music
It’s a poetry thing, it’s written and it corrodes your soul
Till the chorus of your story is heard again


I’ll find the dream
When I wake to the practice of observing
Flaring words
Arranged to bring wonder to the mundane,


I’ll connect the dots and I’s, till a mosaic is found
Pinpointing the wrinkles and the lines
Showcasing the mistakes and the rhymes
Coincidences of being alive


I’ll find the dream when I see the blueprint
To the garments that, can represent our stance
Work the magic, that will call our own ancestral dance


Yet in between you’ve got to see me
You’ve got to respect my swing,
Or else I will pull out
Recoil to a space, where there’s no more venom

For I am fine, just fine, with me

Dedicated to my late Grandmother Fedilisia Makundi Mamuya


© All Poems are copyright of CAROLine ANANDE uliwa

4 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. Thank you Kolowa, means a lot coming from you....:)

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  2. The message pouring out of your thoughts is so powerful...we have failed ourselves by not looking deep where we stumbled and so we can stand as kings and queens of the future generation,we need more of inspiring wombmen like you to create a family of love and truth...stay blessed queen

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