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Mairo-the-Poet

Born and bred in Zimbabwe. Currently living and working in South Africa. A primary school teacher by profession but a Performance Poet by design. My father was a wood-carver, so I fancy myself a word-carver. To me poetry is life, therefore the purpose of art is to comment on the human condition.

Adam Then and Now

By Mairo-the-Poet: When Adam was born, there was no breast milk. No crazy budget for his nappies. He had no wardrobe full of pants. No shoe rack full of Gucci! He just woke up a grown up man. He had…

Have We Become Too Busy For The Lord?

By Mairo-the-Poet: Lord, on your Second Coming Please do not return on a Monday Monday morning blues will be hanging around me like thick clouds. So I won’t be a good and amenable guest! Please on your Second return Lord…

The Vigilante Fights a lone battle

By Mairo-the-Poet: The sun dreams up a blood moon On a solitary veld. We made laughter roll on lips of ghouls Teeth bared at the innocent, sinister! Our victims are washed in blood, hear us banter No shackles on our…

Coo Me My Dove

By Mairo-the-Poet: Our love At its coolest should be hotter than an iron stove At its sweetest much sweeter than honey. Let roses sprout from the gentleness of our soft noon Let the primrose stand guard at our feet Where…

Monster in the Coop

By Mairo-the-Poet: We all know there is a pond of motherless fish Whom the ocean hugs ever so lovingly We know there is a coop Of parentless ducks Whom the valleys cuddle ever so soothingly. They have cried their pain…

My Pain Loves You

By Mairo-the-Poet: I have built an asylum in my heart For you my butterfly Where disappointment won’t murk the waters. I want you to kick me hard in the gut I will squirm But I will whisper your name ever…

Elegy For Victims of Drunken Driving

By Mairo-the-Poet: Elegy for Victims of Drunken Driving I will not shed tears again If sobriety prevails this season. I will not bury a brother again If drunkards stand far from the steering wheel. I will not lose a limb…

Is it in this age

By Mairo1: Is it in this age, That civilians roast in nuclear porridge; That a brother’s bowels are baptized in Novichok gas? Is it in this age, mother, That citizens perish from reckless bursts of gunfire? Is it in this…

Metal Panthers

By Mairo1: The metal panther lunges without caution Latching onto the unlucky pedestrian Catching him with the right fender Throwing him high up in the air. The man spins twice before hitting the ground hard With a sickening thud. Lethargically,…

Beautiful Zimbabwei

By Mairo1: Beauty is my song My song is beauty Beautiful people, beautiful places, beautiful Zimbabwe! Beauty is the mountain paradise of the Eastern Highlands A mosaic undulating panorama The epitome of diverse visual riches A sensual metaphor of valleys,…

Which Way My Africa?

By Mairo1: Which way my people? Which way my Africa? What song shall I sing What dance shall I dance When I hear the thunder of the African drum? But the celebration drums have grown silent The voices of the…

Welcome to South Africa

By Mairo1: The sun Smiles upon the brow of the beautiful Cape. God loves them all, in the multi-colored tango of their shades of skin Where accents exotic mingle and tingle the clicks of indigenous South African! Welcome to the…