My poem titled Die and Rest, published by literaryyard.com/2021/05/05/die… via @literaryyard

Appreciations to Literary Yard for publishing my poem x.com/literaryyard/s…

Enjoy my writing titled ‘The Eiffel’ literaryyard.com/2022/12/22/the… via @literaryyard

I'm happy to share this poem published by PoeticAfrica😁 Long Live the King – Andrea Myinga (Tanzania) writersspace.net/long-live-the-…

Sharing my two poems published by the Kalahari Review. The Night & If kalaharireview.com/the-night-if-1…

Death March written by: Andrea Myinga Andrea Ernest Myinga There is no ‘we’ in ‘I’ Moments have named it well It’s a spell of life must go on The journey of the ‘we’ has an #SpillWords is.gd/buHSym #English #Poetry

Two poems about living and leaving a sensational legacy — from Tanzanian Andrea Ernest Myinga kalaharireview.com/the-orchestra-…

My two poems published today, appreciation to The Kalahari Review for publishing in their site. The Orchestra kalaharireview.com/the-orchestra-…

My poem is titled DEATH MARCH, holding a message that Life is a mystery to those who Witness it from from someone and a reality to the owner. Appreciation to Spillwords.com SpillWords for publishing it in their site. Death March spillwords.com/death-march/

Death March written by: Andrea Myinga Andrea Ernest Myinga There is no ‘we’ in ‘I’ Moments have spillwords.com/death-march/?u… #writers #writerscommunity #readers #readerscommunity #SpillWords

In few stanzas lets remember the ideal days with their memorable and cherishing experiences, that made our childhood memories exciting. QUARTZ 𝕏 The Kalahari Review Ikike Arts Joseph Fasano

Today is for books and their wonders. For whoever knows how to read them well, knows the wonders which are hidden in-there. You can choose to go East or West or to sit on a table and discover the same world which adventure does.

This verse was born under broken skies. It's got no feathers to reach your eyes. And still what's real comes from above. The rain is honest— so was my love. I tried to tell you... In vain. In vain. No, I'm not crying. It's just the rain. #vss365

Writing is music too. Meaning lives where sound sings. Poetry sings in prose. Prose dances in poetry.

The SOUND OF DRUMS is providing the foundation of the music we listened to, we danced, we ate and slept with from our great-small village where we never became what we wished to be rather than wishers who never rode horses. At first the poem was published by The Kalahari Review

The sense of tomorrow is commonplace on the tongue. Dreams and wishes find tomorrow as a safehouse before being realised. It's truly imaginary to those who still seek their dreams, and a reality to those who live in their dream land. kalaharireview.com/the-night-if-1…