Good morning yall, glad you’re still with us on this day to enjoy this beautiful, inspiring piece by Preetpi, one of the few talented bloggers I started following recently. Go check out her site if you enjoy this piece, there’s more where it came from


Don’t go back to your old ways,

Try to get out of that mud,

There is love and light for you to grow,

You are still an about to bloom bud,

Hands folded, head held high,

You have to forget your heart’s cry,

When something and someone is pure,

It is rewarded for sure,

Let the times be obscure,

You have to hear past the tumultous,

The sound of nature,

It bestows the real things the strength to endure;

Even if your heart is breaking into a zillion pieces,

Just let the rivers of pain flow,

Because days and nights keep shifting,

But always after the darkness,

We feel the sunrise’s glow.

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A Rainy Day At Last

People often say that motivation doesn’t last. Well, neither does bathing.  That’s why we recommend it daily.

Zig Ziglar
It was five o'clock in the morning
When the cock gave a warning
That the scorching sun - this day will not be having fun.

The night, 
Was still a dark carpet covering the farmhouse-
Wherein slept the farmer and his wife 
Who prayed profusely to the heavens
For the skies to make like a shower
And pour water on the dying flowers in the field.-

When a flash of lightning lit the sky
So that the sad clouds up high
Began to unleash their sorrows in tears
Wet enough to quench the pain of plains
That haven't drunk water in years.

© Lazarus Shatipamba 2020

The Poets Peace

Buy me a pen and paper?

Man’s Place



The whale sang,

But I was tone-deaf;

The leopard snarled,

So I ran away;

The wolf howled,

And I closed the gate.

The elephant trumpeted,

The tiger roared,

And the gorilla

Beat his chest,

But I knew not any

Of their languages.

Sadly, I turned around

And looked at the world,

And man’s place in it.

Unexpectedly, a tear

rolled down my cheek,

And suddenly,

I understood them all.

Together, they cried

Out in one loud voice,

“Save us! Save us!”

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In Windhoek by Lazarus Shatipamba

Go Dog Go Café

You really can persuade a lot of people in nearly anything, but you first have to convince yourself.

Giovanni Ferrari

In Windhoek
city of high hills and pensive poets
who sang songs of high hills and warm winds.

Every autumn
a tree sheds its leaves,
leaving the branches bare
and the ground around it
littered in long dead leaves.

People everywhere
talked of the accumulating dirt
being tossed about by the wind,
and the amount of work
it would take to sweep the streets clean.

The pensive poets
only sang of the falling leaves.
Of how the breeze blew them with ease
and how, as they fell
You could tell how naked the tree looked.

No one sang
of the suicidal teen – that was seen
hanging from a tight rope on the tree.

More poetry at The Poets Peace

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You can do it!

whatever you set your mind to, you can do it!

The Bag Lady

The basic idea is do not live in a cave

Press yourself, be active in every way

Protest for something you’d like to save

Never stay stationary but go out, be brave

You don’t have to be graceful

You’re human, not a gazelle

Just start out, do your best

I promise it will go well

You need faith, with faith you can do all

Just dance, jump for joy, sometimes you will fall

Move into something new, reach for a star

Skinned knees will heal as you reach the bar.







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FEAR NOT (part 1)

Here’s some Tuesday afternoon inspiration to keep away the trepidation.

Mind time

Fear not the working world, or the wandering screams that quiver and stroke amongst the shiny silt laden streams. my mortal fear lays unmolested on smooth stones of virgin white, my conscience fear not the flat earth rut, the tall imposing temple wall, or the Red roses that prick and bore.

Splendour instead at the solid ocean with land for waves, which dug of the sea and half-born moon are made. Rebel against the dictatorships glare of the red ringed sun, which only rocks of mind can summit alone, fear not the rays and glare of sunken solitude and burnt worn bone.

Fear not the persistent ivy creep and tangle, resist to hide amongst some starry spires or derelict ruins with cold granite offerings from their formidable shade. Face-front to the internal spectres that haunt your hidden human quilt, where a skins balance crawls true, and yet worldly joys persist…

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