Saturday, December 31, 2011

2012 New Year's poem - The Moon

Does the moon count
How many more sleeps?
Or does it simply slip
Through another year?
Does its light dim
With each passing year
Or does it scotch?
Groaning for the promised
Unending new day
Of its former way.

Where is its favourite abode?
Where would it rather live?
Is it a wondering light
Lost in time?
Since it never lives
In any one place,
Does it simply kill time?
Till eternity cries;
Your light has come!
Your Light has come!
Then it shall forever be freed
From wondering.
It shall die.
It shall die.
A happy death.
Letting go
Of time's loneliness
For the true Light
Has finally come.
The moon is no longer
Space and time's prisoner.

© Siki Dlanga
31 Dec 2012

Friday, December 23, 2011

The Greatest Gifts

The richest men and women in all the ages put together would never be able to put enough riches to purchase it.
All the saints in all the ages put together who have done mighty good deeds would never be able to equal this gift.
Nor would they be able to fix all the ills of the world or the world would be perfect by now.
This breathe I breath, not a rich person can purchase it.
This life that courses through my veins no amount of another's goodness can purchase.
Even the bad guy in the street can run and speak words freely.
He too has been given a brain and talents freely without discrimination.
All have been freely given the best gifts already.
These are the most expensive things that can’t be bought.

God is extremely generous, it is God’s benovelence. He has given it all for free what a paradox!
The greatest gift is the most expensive gift. It is all for free even though it is not cheap.
Opportunity is another subject though all together.

Grace is embodied in Christ Jesus and becomes real for anyone who believes in Him.

He is the greatest gift to mankind.
Anyone can have the freedom He gives, even the prisoner and the saint.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Cape Town, The Mother City

She holds on to the edge of my skirt and refuses to let go. She cries for me like a child. But I thought she was the Mother and I was the child who had come to suckle on her breast for nourishment and like any mother when I reach late teenagehood she must let me go. She must trust that I am ready for the world. I went to the airport as agreed and yet when I was there ready to take off to the Eastern Cape she denied me exit. She would not let me go. This Mother City refused me exit.

She told me that I was 7 minutes too late for my flight and if I wanted to leave, I would have to pay much more. She tried to fine me or else I will pay a lesser amount if I leave a week later.

So I remain in the Mother City. At first I sulked. She kept telling me how grateful I should be. "Do you know how many people out there wished they had me as a mother?" She kept nagging, telling me of her beauty. Beauty I had and still appreciate but I am maybe after a while I am simply tired of being mothered. Where is the father? Maybe the city is full of people with father issues because she refuses to let us in the secret. Who is the father?

I have been telling her that I am giving her space. Space to take more people but she does not believe me. Men come to her and wish to be women too. I do not know how to explain that, but I know about her fire, I know about her tenacity. I know that she is the corner within which the nation is built and if she is not conquered and if her fire will not touch all her children in every province then we have no country to speak of.

She must release that love and begin to look outward and ask why are the nations drawn to her beauty? She is meant to heal the nations without discrimination if she will quit being vain. She will cleans the nations with her fire. Her beauty will awaken the the king's strength. He will roar her name. He will free the captives. From lion's head to the pyramids of Egypt that roar of the mother lion will free everyone of her cubs in every country. If she will see it.

And I must go. She must get that.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011


Every year people ask about the true meaning of Christmas.

Christmas is about love. It is bigger than the Christmas tree in your lounge. Christmas is a love story that is far bigger than all the weddings ever had. Christmas is about an insane, intense love that pushed God to become His own creation so that they would finally believe that His love is real. It is the biggest love gesture ever done. It is bigger than every  engagement ring ever given.

Whether you will be surrounded by loving or not-so-loving family members; whether you will be seemingly alone; seemingly because you are never alone, ever, part of the Christmas gift is that He is Emmanuel, God with us, Counsellor and Friend. In all of that no matter where you find yourself or with who or without,  remember that you are loved intensely, crazily, from eternity and back, you are loved.

You are loved and Christmas was made for you to know that love and if you would believe in the gift of God you would be saved. If you will receive that crazy love that will go to the edge of hell, immerse itself in death and sickness and darkness so that you will be forever free from it all. Shout "Yes I do"!

Christmas is a love story. It is an insane crazy love bigger than any gift you could wish for. Receive it! I receive it and shout out for all eternity to hear that I said; "Yes, I do! I do!"

Yes to this neverending forever Love and Yes to the Eternal Lover who made this great proposal and gesture. "Yes I DO".

Hear God shout from eternity "YOU ARE LOVED"! Hear the soft whisper from deep, deep within your soul shouting softly if you will hear...."YOU ARE LOVED!" 

How can you say anything else this Christmas but say for all time and space to know, say "I do! I receive the greatest love of all." Say "I will not go without."

This is the true meaning of Christmas.

Friday, December 9, 2011

My Thoughts on Fashion

Today, there is nothing fashionable about fashion. It has become a universal uniform in different colours and prescribed shapes at various seasons. Quite frankly it is boring. It has lost its art.  Globalisation is also sadly doing nothing for inspiration. It lacks boldness. If you don't believe me go to Cape Town's famous "creative" long street, shop after shop displays the same same thing.

At times I think it is infuriating and even insulting to creativity at other times.

Blog Archive

About Me

My photo

I write a lot. When it's necessary I draw. 
I have been called a Poet, a Writer, an Illustrator, a Banner of Freedom, a Word Magician, etc.
I am a Lover of Truth embodied in beauty.