Well, honey, the setting of "The Loneliness Beyond" by Sipho Sepamla is in a prison cell. The poem explores themes of isolation, despair, and the yearning for freedom. So, buckle up and get ready for a ride through some deep, dark emotions in this poetic slammer.
Sipho Sepamla died in 2007.
South African poet Sipho Sepamla is well-known for his commentaries on daily life. His poem, "The Loneliness Beyond" is Sepalma's description of how a person can be alone in a crowd of people, and the entire working class starts to act as cattle.
The principal writers of protest poetry were: Oswald Mtshali, Mongane Serote, Sipho Sepamla and Mafika Gwala.There were also some Afrikaans poets such as Ingrid Jonker who wrote "The child who was not dead."
The poem "To Whom It May Concern" by Sipho Sepamla explores themes of oppression, resistance, and the struggle for freedom in the context of apartheid-era South Africa. The speaker addresses the poem to an unnamed audience, possibly those in power, to express their defiance and refusal to be silenced. The poem conveys a sense of resilience and determination in the face of adversity, urging the audience to recognize the humanity and strength of those who are marginalized and oppressed.
The title announces the theme of poetry and verse that it opens with does not disappoint: "Like raindrops pattering" image is sharp, incisive, which breaks immediately, but with modesty, the reality of Africans: each of them representing only drop was identical to another one million drops, belonging to a perceived continuous rain and constant. They have absorbed the gloom and the cold rain, distant, anger and violence of the storm, crying silent performers whose only disorder is in the verb used "pattering" gentle tap that tries not to be heard.Sepamla convey to you a feeling of alienation which the reader is only partially awareLike raindrops patteringThey come singly and in pairsThen a torrent as the rush of feetShuffles onto platformsDragging the last strains of energy.I've seen hearts palpitatingBehind a single maskless faceTired from the hurrying of a citySpirits maimed by commandsI've seen throngs of peopleDisappear into little holes of restingAnd I've pondered what might be happeningWith the loneliness beyond