Twenty-three-year old Itumeleng Phambili Tsagane is out to make a name for herself in the poetry field. "My belief is simple, I believe in God with all that I am and I surely believe that He will touch hearts through my poems", she says.


Tsagane started writing in 2009 as means to kill time; “when other learners doodled I wrote”, she laughs. "Then this writing thing became a habit that I loved so much and got hooked to".


She says no other form of expression made sense like writing did. This young talented short lady laughs and continues by saying she looks up to every tall person because she is short. "However, there are two people who humble and inspire me with their work, I follow and learn from them every now and then, and that is Natalia Molebatsi and Lebo Mashile".


Tsagane is rooted in a certain belief regarding poetry and it kept her going thus far, "I personally believe that poetry is beauty that does not only inform or entertain but it nourishes and nurtures the soul. Every child is born with a seed of words in their hands and when correct cultivation takes place poetry grows and stays".


Tsagane strongly believes that only poetry can move hurdles for people who cannot express themselves in written form and in emotions. There are so many challenges in this poetry field and yet the greatest that Tsagane has to face is that of people who think poetry is cheap and can be watched for free.


"To the ear of the next brother or sister you are not enough until you sound like a well-known wordplay artist. If support can be equally divided poetry would blow up.” Tsagane says nonetheless the future on the poetry side looks too bright and all walks of life should watch out for music and poetry marrying together like never before.



Article by Edgar Mashaba



by Itumeleng Phambili Tsagane,

As I stand and stare, stand and stare
starring at the standing alphabets in my book
assemblying themselves into twinkle twinkle little rhymes of scratched faces
In my heart and mind many an emotion moving at various paces,
Slowly adjoining laces of fabricated see through thoughts and unending mazes
All places I've been but unable to find casings for all my word formation in the back of my tongue and twice the ryhme they are all mine,
Autocorrects in the tips of my tens,
Ten fingers I have filled up spaces between them I write a different story for the same sorry,
Now I feel sorry for the other half apology meant to make it whole, guitar strings once one now the song I hear is of broken lines


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