This poem won a prize in 1998, in a competition run by Ottakar's Book sellers.
See all those guys
In white shirts and loud ties:
Hurrying, cell phones in hand,
Scurrying, to make another Grand…
Hotel dinners with sultry sinners,
No slack, fast track movers,
Sucking up money like Hoovers,
Low morals, high stress cynics,
Tomorrow’s coronary statistics –
I used to be one of them.
Until I tired of the stress
And all the formal dress:
The black tie engagements
And back stabbing arrangements –
Fancy friends with painted smiles…
Shaking hands, patting backs,
While contemplating cash attacks,
Making moves on partners,
And all of that for starters,
Until I jumped off the gravy train.
My life’s moved on a pace,
No longer a dog eat dog race.
I do what I want to do,
Not what anyone tells me to…
…. Well, maybe except for my wife?
Life is so much more of a pleasure,
Exercising my full measure of leisure,
Stopping now and then, and again,
Instead of money, I’m using a pen,
Working slow enough to smell the coffee.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
Still Living on my Feet is the follow up to Tichaona Chinyelu’s first book, In the Whirlwind, which was rooted in a sense of hard-hitting revolutionary black love. However, in this sophomore effort, Tichaona brings the revolutionary essence from deep
i can see why this won the award--wonderful read and write!
(((HUGS))) and love,
karla. :)