Sunday, 17 March 2019

Starting Across in the Dead of Night

At 1.59 a.m, a storm rocks the skies ...

Rain drops incessantly tap my rooftop.
Blankly, I stand staring out into the darkness through my window pen
A moment long yearned for with myself.

The heavens continuously cry,
and lightening cuts through the sky
followed by thunder rumbles that shake the torn sky.

Avoiding occasional relapse into paranoia,
I try to find something to base my life upon,
Yet I am afraid of fading time and years going by.

Facing the reality,
I realize that what used to be “good time” is just but dismay,
And with the hope of a better tomorrow, it just comes and goes

Broken dreams, lost love, failures, criticisms, and depression,
Slam my reflection on the past so hard that I stop thinking about it,
But just cling on my ambition that has kept growing and growing.

The rain’s tapping is fading,
And I realize that the storm’s almost over,
And when dawn breaks, I must start over.

At dawn, yet hours away,
Is the life I want, ticking closer every second.
Anxiously waiting, all I have ever wanted was something to live for; to see the dawn.

I don’t want to be a little person anymore,
I just want to be free -
To become what I have fought for, what I want to be.

Sadique Kwatsima

March, 2019

Thursday, 10 January 2019

The Ancestors Legacy

My sons,
Keep vigil over your blood
And every day: invoke your forefathers
To give you a living guide.

My sons,
Tomorrow you will be contaminated
With the Eastern and Western tastes
But remember to offer the daily morsel to our spirits with gratitude.

My sons,
Don’t get too lost in ego and pride,
Denying yourselves the peace and happiness created by our forefathers’ bonds
And live in the cold by icy hands of fate.

My sons,
When you all learn to pull together as a family, and grow wide,
Regardless of mistakes:
You’ll build our beautiful homeland.

My sons,
This is my last word
For even as you advance within the new civilizations,
Keep the teachings of our forefathers – and strive to preserve their pride.

Sadique © 2019

Sunday, 11 November 2018

Modern Winds, Old Dust

Photo Credit: Alex|Pintrest

“It is time for fresh and boiling blood;”
Mumbled the big bellied man, looking through the side mirror.
Bubbled with a lusty smile and a mighty heave of desire.
He pressed the brake pedal and the Mercedes halted.

Slaying, she displayed wonderful side motions of splendidness,
Almost staggering, like an elf right after birth, in tall heels.
She hinted mastered receptive rituals
Rituals that seemed to bond with the suggestive Mercedes,
Not just for the first time!

I said to her, “Is it not late for today's classes,
And exams are due in a week's time, little sister?”
She gave me ‘go away eyes’, rolled them up, and she, she gave them to me; again.
“Don’t you have business to do, boy?”

And I thought to myself as they sped off,
“Just which of these roles did I perform?
Am I a grown-up “boy,” a custodian of outdated societal order,
Measuring life by the square and rule,
Or am I just a creepy idler,
Who pokes his nose into other people’s affairs?”

Sadique Kwatsima 
© 2018

Monday, 25 June 2018

Pavilion of Our Eternity

Source: Deviant Art

Like a season gives way to another,
our love came when we'd given up on asking love to come.

First, I thought it was part of a miracle
until I reached deep into my dreams, and hugged you in reality.

Like a theme in an old song,
I love thee. How do I love thee? I can't tell, I can't explain.

I was allured to the soft harmony with your graceful walk,
do you remember when you first walked to me?

The colorfully rendered contours on your dress
formed a flowing cascade of magical drapery,
expressing a mysterious secret:
a haunting, unsettled yearning in my heart, for you.

You looked into my eyes,
and I was drawn to your face's silent and magical features.
The very first moment, I wanted to touch your clean skin,

Today, and for forever,

I want to hold you close like I am hope,
let our embrace press our promises like flowers in a book,
living to share our common love
in the pavilion of our eternity.

Source: Sugarmints artblog

By Sadique Kwatima
Copyright: 2018

Saturday, 12 May 2018


I have seen you stand by my side,
for all of my life,
when my heart was torn open,
when my heart bled,
when my heart rejoiced.

Altogether alone, we have fed on darkness,
Going through my growth transitions -
Full of shattered dreams
Full of broken hearts
Full of lost hopes.

But Mama,
when I was helpless at all these times,
you always let me collapse into your laps.
And your kiss, was like forgiveness,
Your embrace, was like new hopes.

you carried me on your back,
taken me through losses,
through alleys full of sharp knife-edges,
never giving up on me.

Even in my cracked perfection, Mama,
you still looked at me, and smiled,
a smile brilliant like the sun.
Today, you're still the flawless light to me,
when darkness rowels my air.

And everyday, Mama,
we are always moving towards a beautiful destination,
with a distillation of our hearts and souls,
For onto this earth, you bore beauty,
and from this earth, you shall inherit beauty.

Every day, Mama,
I celebrate you, my heroine.

A Happy Mothers Day Dedication to my Mama (Rosemary, With Love) and all mothers in the world, and all those who play a mother figure in lives of men and women of this earth!. 

By Sadique Kwatsima

Saturday, 24 March 2018

My Nighttide Companion

Just the rains tapped the roof out of boredom.
Silky winds penetrated my light white shirt
And I felt the breeze caress me, like no one ever did.
I had just fallen off from the world, plunging into a dark abyss of nothingness.

A fire burned inside my heart,
And I fought, even though victory was impossible.
Fatigue plagued me like an infectious disease,
But I continued to hold on, to hold on what I believed was meant to be mine.

My eyes kept staring in the corridor,
Corridor that was filled with darkness
Darkness that swallowed everything,
Everything except my nighttide companion.

Stuck in a moment of inescapable terror,
I looked into my companion’s eyes,
They faintly shone red
They disturbed, they frightened.

“Sadness seems a place here,”
Barked my companion.
“Are you any happier, roaming in the rainy devil’s glory minding about people’s sadness?
I defensively asked.

“So what brings you here, at this nighttide?”
I continued, with a fake courage.
“How did he even know about my dry bread eaten in darkness?” I wondered.
Right inside me was a frightened child, as helpless as a broken winged bird.
“Might it be her?” He sarcastically asked, flapped his wings, and flew away.


An hour of darkness!
Tears profusely fell from my face,
Like blood from an open wound.
Why at this lone hour? Would my companion come back and explain more?

It was at this hour because dawn was yet to come,
The sun was coming; and darkness would have no room again; maybe until the next dusk.
The nighttide companion would never return; maybe until the next dusk.
But what if I just transfigured? Then not again, shall they ever return!

This is the end,
The resolution of the dilemma that troubled my soul,
Always to near perfection, give the soul what it wants even when all seem an illusion,
And when dawn finally came; I was a greater experienced man!

Sadique Kwatsima

Starting Across in the Dead of Night

At 1.59 a.m, a storm rocks the skies ... Rain drops incessantly tap my rooftop. Blankly, I stand staring out into the dar...