Siphiwe

25/08/2026

11/07/2026

Basotho phallang re thusetse ngoana oa rona maqeba a seke a mo imela.

Ntse ke so theole khalefo eaka ho monga lintjana... ekare a ka phethisoa ho patalla ditjeo tsena!!

17/06/2026

To be a Ugandan poet

Every point of conversation
is an invitation to
Disrespect.
It starts with, "no disrespect"
Pun intended.
There's always an
Assumption that you
Are redundant and
Always available.

When you introduce
Yourself as a poet
They stare you down
And measure the size
Of your coat
Your relevance is
Weighed
The price of your shoes is
Estimated
You're mentally searched
Openly criticized
Blatantly judged
Ostracized from social
Gatherings and
Branded as unserious

The interrogation begins...
"How is a poet valuable
To society anyway?"
"Why are you wasting
Your time with poetry?"
"Poetry should be a
Pastime..."

To be a poet is equivalent
To being a burden to
Society.
You'll be treated like a
Pauper at events
You will be the example
Of failure
Yet you're an ocean
Of knowledge.
There's no respect for
The word slinger
There's no reprieve
For the lyricist
There no compassion
For the griot
There's no appreciation
For the curators of
History

With every poem,
We preserve our
History and open
Portals to new worlds
Poets have written
Civilizations in
Cuneiform and stela
We write narratives
And heal the world
With our stories
We bleed for humanity
We educate and
Inspire generations
With our language of
Experience.
We are immortal
Our words do not
Suffer the tragedy of time.

A limerick to make
You laugh
An eulogy for the
Departed
An epithalamium on
Your wedding night
An ode for yearning hearts

For every mood,
Feeling or occasion
There's a poem.

But they still ask,
"Why are you wasting
Your time being a poet?"

The Unapologetic Poet-

Throughout history, poets have inspired revolutions. Activists have matched while chanting the words of poets.
Politicians have quoted the work of poets.
Poetry has been used as a catharsis for healing at mental health institutions.
It's why some countries value poets.

19/05/2026

*(yet to be named poem)*

Lefatšeng le kopantsoeng ka meeli
joalo ka maqeba letlalong,
ke ntse ke lora ka Afrika e bulelang moena oa eona joalo ka mofuthu o amohelang ba hatsetseng bosiu.

Kajeno re betla “mojaki” ka maleme a bohale
joalo ka marumo, hosane re epela bana ba rona mobung o noeleng lehloeo
joalo ka tšollo ea mali.

Le eme ka marumo joaloka moru oa meutloa,
empa lipelo tsona li omme
joalo ka linoka tsa komello.

Ngoana oa moAfrika o tšoanetse ho tsoha ka 'mino oa botho o kang selemo lithabeng, eseng ka molumo oa lithunya o petsolang marulelo joalo ka lehalima le harolang pelo.

Matsatsing ana, liphasepoto li tšoaroa joalo ka libibele tsa poloko,
empa matsoho a batho a qhalana
joalo ka leroele moeeng!

Ubuntu e ntse e nyamela butle-butle
joalo ka moholi oa hoseng ha letsatsi le chaba, lefatše le sala le bata joalo ka lebitla le se nang sello.

Bosiu bo b**g le bo b**g lefatše le ikhurumetsa ka sello sa mme ea lahlehetsoeng ke ngoana
joalo ka kobo e kolobisitsoeng ke p**a ea bohloko.

Afrika e roetse mabitla mokokotlong
joalo ka tonki e imetsoeng ke majoe, e ntse e bina lithoko tsa bohloko,lefatšeng le fetotseng mali noka e sa hlatsuoeng ke molato.

Re khathetse ke ho bala mabitla
joalo ka linaleli tse qhalaneng leholimong le lahlehetsweng ke Molimo oa lona.

Ha lefatše le ntse le khumamela lintoa joalo ka melimo ea tšepe, rona re tla phahamisa mantsoe a rona joalo ka mollo oa balisa lithabeng tsa Maloti,
hobane motho ke motho ka batho, ‘me pelo e tletseng lerato e ka hotetsa lefatše lohle ho feta marumo ana a ahileng meeli lefatšeng lena le hlokang mohau.



©️Siphiwe Nzima 2026

19/05/2026

Sometimes grief is not one feeling at all.
Sometimes it is ten emotions fighting for space inside the same heartbeat.

You can love someone with every piece of your soul and still feel angry they are gone.
Angry at the world. Angry at fate. Angry at the silence that came after laughter once lived so easily in the room.

You can hold beautiful memories in your hands and still feel guilt wrapped around them.
Guilt for the things left unsaid.
For the moments you wish you had noticed more carefully.
For surviving days they never got to see.
Even guilt for smiling again sometimes, as if healing could somehow betray the love that remains.

And then there are the moments that confuse you most of all —
the ones where laughter escapes before you even realize it, only to collapse suddenly into tears.

One second you are remembering the way they teased you, the ridiculous things they said, the way they could make you laugh until your stomach hurt.
And the next second your chest caves in because those moments exist only in memory now.

People talk about grief like it is sadness.
But grief is far more complicated than sadness.

It is love with nowhere physical to go.
It is anger standing beside tenderness.
It is gratitude beside devastation.
It is laughter tangled together with longing.

Some days I feel all of it within minutes.
A memory makes me smile, then cry, then laugh again through the tears because somehow they are all connected.

I think that is one of the hardest truths about losing someone deeply loved:
nothing stays separated anymore.

Love does not erase anger.
Anger does not erase love.
Guilt does not erase beautiful memories.
And tears do not mean the laughter was fake.

They all live together now.
Side by side.
Inside the same grieving heart.

28/04/2026

23/04/2026

THE CULTURAL CANVAS IS HERE ✨🎨

Poetry lovers, music souls, laughter seekers, this one’s for YOU.

The Poetry Association of Lesotho, in collaboration with Fafatsah Cafe1803 , proudly brings you an unforgettable experience:
THE CULTURAL CANVAS 🔥

This is not just an event… it’s a vibe, a moment, a whole experience.

🗓 Date: 26 April 2026
⏰ Time: 13:00 – 17:00
📍 Venue: Fafatsah Cafe1803, Ha-Seoli, Maseru

💥 Entry: FREE 💥

Come hungry for art, and don’t worry about food & drinks, they’ll be available at the venue to keep you fueled all afternoon.

Bring your friends, your energy, and your love for culture. Let’s paint the canvas together. 🎤🎶

📌 Save the date. Don’t miss out.

20/04/2026

Death, Be Not Proud (Reimagined)

Death, be not proud,
for you walk among us daily now,
uninvited,
taking names we still whisper in the present tense.

You move through our homes
like a quiet thief in the night,
and leave behind echoes,
laughter caught in empty rooms,
footsteps that no longer return.

We do not breathe easy anymore.
Our chests rise with caution,
as if the air itself might betray us.
We live watching the horizon,
waiting for a shadow
that feels closer than tomorrow.

We feel boxed in,
as though life has narrowed
to a single, silent corridor
with no doors, no turns,
no second chances.

Our fears are not imagined,
They sit beside us.
They speak in the language of loss,
whispering; departure is never far...

Even time whispers it,
in the ticking of clocks,
in the weight of our years,
in the knowing we cannot unlearn;
we are closer than we were yesterday.

But still....
Death, be not proud.

For you do not take everything.
You cannot carry love in your hands.
You cannot silence the memories
etched into our bones.

You cannot erase the warmth
of those who lived,
nor the light they left behind
in the chambers of our hearts.

So we will live,
even if softly,
even if trembling,
even if unsure.

We will choose each other
in the time we are given.
We will speak,
we will hold on,
we will remember.

And when the names are called,
we will answer not with fear alone,
but with honor.

Peace to all the fallen.
You are not gone,
you are carried within.

*ho bohloko ka pelong eaka. Almost everyday someone close has died. se re pata 3 to 4 friends and family members every weekend....ha re sa tseba re ipate kae...*

Siphiwe Nzima MamaKa Ndaphiwe