BULLETIN: With 7 hours of voting time left, Euleta Usrey remains in the lead among adult poets and Maria Ciminillo is still fending off a hard charge by Courtney Clawson among young poets.
REMINDER: Today is your last chance to help select our September Hall of Fame poets! As of this morning, Euleta Usrey is leading previous winners Steven Withrow and V.L. Gregory. In the young poets group, Maria Ciminillo has taken the lead over Courtney Clawson in a hot race. Tonight at 10:00 EST the polls close. This is the final month of our first full year so let your opinion count.
Before turning the stage over to Silindile Ntuli, my Guest Reader for today, I want to tell you about an opportuntiy.
As a fund raiser for Plum Creek Childrens Literacy Festival, held each year in Seward, Nebraska on the campus of Concordia University, I’m auctioning off a chance to be featured on my blog. The link gives you all the information. I hope you’ll read it and consider making a bid. I set the floor at $50 and at this point the high bid is $56. There are four days remaining so I certainly hope to see the bidding go much higher! Each year the festival attracts about 9,000 boys and girls. It takes a lot of money and energy to put together something like that. My hat is off to the fine people who make it all happen.
Now, without further ado, here is my guest for today. Last week Silindile was nice enough to share with me a poem she wrote when her beloved nephew was born. I was taken by the poem and asked Silindile to allow me to share it with you. She agreed and also wrote about the circumstances that prompted the poem. Here’s Silindile.
With a shaking voice, trembling hands, fear and tears in her eyes my sister told me she was pregnant, as an unmarried woman of a strict father she was terrified, also terrified of my aunt who was like the dragon of the family.
Immediately I felt happy, told her I’m here and will take the heat with her.. Those months were hard, family was furious until December 22, 2002 when Sibahle was born, the most beautiful boy ever and he melted every heart.. I sat in my usual corner and wrote a poem, I knew he was an angel with no halo.
That year with him was like the first family year, we wondered what kind of life we had before him and boy did he live up to my angel predictions. All through the next year I couldn’t wait to get home, to play this silly game where I’d hold him while he tried to blow out the lightbulb, I’d pull the string and make him think he did it, every night.
He’s very smart, he asks lots and lots of questions daily sometimes its too much, he’s sweet and fear every little thing that crawls, including an ant, everything my friends. He inspires me to keep fighting, sometimes I think he’s my main source of strength closely followed by mom, he says grown up things that make the world clear, I remember how he sits with me on hard days, not playing outside with the other kids. He goes to a christian school and when I say maybe I have a headache he amazes, while people bring me water and headache powders my little boy says “I’ll pray for you”, with his head bowed he does.
To thank God for such a wonderful blessing and to thank my dear boy I wrote the following poem, hope by end of this year he’ll be fluent enough to read it and understand.
by Silindile Ntuli
The woman proudly displayed it,
As if she could tell the future
Little did she know her nine months of pride,
Were going to be years of pure beauty.
The woman carried him with pride,
I know this because of the results.
You ask me to bet on it,
I say just take a look at him.
Because he was carried proudly
By a woman on a mission.
For nine long months,
Days and nights combined,
The hero grew strongly.
For each breath she took,
I know he kicked with joy,
Anticipating the day he blessed
This world with his presence.
Counting hours till he kicked
Right into this lost world.
For he will be one of its few great things.
Today it’s the big day,
A hero is born in our among us.
Call them all,
Those close and those unknown.
Come see beauty the way
Only God intended.
But he is just a child, you say.
True, but he will grow into a man,
Real to the core.
Call the singers,
Pull out the drums
And let the dancers move.
Form a circle,
Join your hands
And don’t forget your best clothes.
Light a fire,
Bring the gifts,
Sing the night away.
Give him a hero’s welcome,
Make sure it’ll be remembered
Long after the stones wash away.
Years have come and gone,
The world has changed with each day.
Thank you David for featuring it, you are a selfless soul and you've made me a more serious writer, I hope to keep learning from you and from your other blog friends. Thank you.