WritingThreeSixty
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360
<p>WritingThreeSixty is a bi-annual, interdisciplinary journal for research essays and creative works. First launched in 2014 as an initiative of the English department at the University of the Western Cape (UWC), WritingThreeSixty now forms part of the broader community within the Arts Faculty and Humanities at UWC.</p>University of the Western Capeen-USWritingThreeSixty2708-6119<p>Copyright is retained by authors.</p>Echoes of War, Whispers of Peace
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2938
<p>The cannons roar, the skies turn gray,<br>As tears of sorrow flood the land,<br>Yet hope still flickers in the fray,<br>A gentle touch, a guiding hand...</p>Micheal Kwasi Ackumey
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2025-07-172025-07-1781A World of Love, Not Hate
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2939
<p>Oh rulers, let your hearts be wise,<br>And see the tears in children’s eyes.<br>The bombs you drop, the wars you wage,<br>Have filled the world with fear and rage...</p>Micheal Kwasi Ackumey
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2025-07-172025-07-1781Lead with Light, Not Fire
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2940
<p>Oh leaders, high upon your thrones,<br>Do not cast hearts to dust and stones.<br>The world now pleads for hands so kind,<br>To heal the wounds of humankind...</p>Micheal Kwasi Ackumey
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2025-07-172025-07-1781The Silent Cry of the Earth
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2941
<p>The rivers dark, the forests weep,<br>The air is thick with death’s embrace.<br>As war and greed their poison seep,<br>Yet hope still shines with quiet grace...</p>Micheal Kwasi Ackumey
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2025-07-172025-07-1781Raise the Flags of Peace
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2942
<p>Oh mighty ones, with wealth untold,<br>Do not let hearts grow harsh and cold.<br>A throne means naught if pain prevails,<br>And voices rise in tearful tales...</p>Micheal Kwasi Ackumey
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2025-07-172025-07-1781The Blues Were Inviting
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2943
<p>Taunted by the fate of misery in company<br>A kind of slow poison that festers by the hue<br>meandering every vein till lips run blue<br>Perhaps the fleeting vigour in saddened individuals is the last pump of red before the blue<br>Perhaps the sadness is a fallacy I misconstrue<br>The blues were inviting,<br>And my wavering flicker beams at the thought that my desolate blue could be in your consulate that outweighs the hue<br>The blues were inviting and so were<br>You.</p>Katlego Nkoana
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2025-07-172025-07-1781Tick-Tock-Boom!
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2944
<p>tick—tock—tick—tock,<br>A gentle reminder<br>That time is but a meander,<br>Flowing by the second<br>Eddies by the minute<br>Tides by the hour<br>Our bodies are ventriloquists to our passions<br>Giving form to the abstract.<br>Time is but a companion,</p>Katlego Nkoana
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2025-07-172025-07-1781I am my Shadow
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2945
<p>The incandescent glow<br>Descends on me with a flick,<br>It covers me with its vastness<br>The darkness takes form<br>I lift my hand,<br>It traces the wall<br>I sit, grounded with despair,<br>It ascends the celling<br>The darkness mocks me<br>For all my body can do is sit on this chair.<br>Perhaps the darkness is an extension of what my soul longs to do?<br>The darkness illuminates me.</p>Katlego Nkoana
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2025-07-172025-07-1781Accountability
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2946
<p>Everyone wants to be bejewelled<br />With the shine stones of victimhood<br />The glimmer so blinding<br />absolving anyone to see<br />the dim of the truth<br />Leaning into the luminous sun<br />Forgetting it’s simmer<br />Till tipping point</p>Katlego Nkoana
Copyright (c) 2025 Katlego Nkoana
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2025-07-172025-07-1781Cracks and Crevices
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2949
<p>You wear nonchalance like a smile<br>Glance at my afflictions from a mile<br>Feeling, more or less inclined<br>Distance abstains you from the guilt<br>So I sit afar as I wilt...</p>Katlego Nkoana
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2025-07-172025-07-1781Scars of Silence
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2950
<p>In the corners where shadows dwell,<br>Whispers of pain are lost,<br>Broken voices, fractured shells,<br>Injustice's bitter cost...</p>Festus Moses Onipede
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2025-07-172025-07-1781Ashes of the Olive Tree
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2959
<p>Where once the olive branches swayed,<br>In winds of peace and song,<br>Now echoes of the past have frayed,<br>In a land where rights go wrong...</p>Festus Moses Onipede
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2025-07-172025-07-1781Stomp the Yard
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2953
<p>No longer shall you make hollow spaces<br>like snow angels within your mattress of your bed.<br>Get up! Get out!<br>Stomp the yard! – the whole nine yards<br>Leave no inch unclaimed.<br>The world needs you.</p>Violet Makomborero
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2025-07-172025-07-1781How to Start a Revolution
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2954
<p>Seven days a week, endless nine to five, 3sixtyfive.<br>Time and time again, the cycle repeats,<br>in the system of oppression, where the few feast<br>Your back becomes the bridge for the elites.<br>The machine called Oppression churns, ...</p>Violet Makomborero
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2025-07-172025-07-17811984
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2955
<p>there is a fasting of truth, a starving of words<br>a parched parchment in the throat of the pages<br>there is a grumbling of hunger in<br>boney writers<br>refusing to fatten on fable, gossip or false promises<br>they no longer lick their fingers with the thoughts of delusions ...</p>Violet Makomborero
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2025-07-172025-07-1781List of contributors
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2957
Peter Oyewole Makinde
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2025-07-172025-07-1781Letter from the Editor
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2936
<p>I present to you the first issue of Volume 8 of WritingThreeSixty on the theme: Africa in Perspective: Contemporary Issues in Arts and Humanities. This marks a significant milestone in our collective efforts to continue this graduate journal and invite authors from far and wide to captivate us with their academic and creative voices.</p>Peter Oyewole Makinde
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2025-07-172025-07-1781About the journal
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2937
<p>WritingThreeSixty is a bi-annual, interdisciplinary journal for research essays and creative works. First launched in 2014 as an initiative of the English department at the University of the Western Cape (UWC), WritingThreeSixty now forms part of the broader community within the Arts Faculty and Humanities at UWC. This journal maintains the standard of peer review and wishes to provide a platform to develop a culture of publishing among postgraduate and emerging student researchers, as well as established creative artists within UWC and South Africa at large.<br>WritingThreeSixty also forms part of co-curricular graduate culture at UWC that affords students the opportunity to develop professional skills through the voluntary leadership and service positions created through the journal. These positions include the management of the journal and its team, editorial outputs, as well as our digital marketing efforts that are presented through social media and our online website.</p>Peter Oyewole Makinde
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2025-07-172025-07-1781Editorial Board
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2958
Peter Oyewole Makinde
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2025-07-172025-07-1781Mother Earth
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2956
<p>The residents of Bloom-Ville Town called it “Gaia’s Garden”, though no one in the town had any recollection of who Gaia was. The garden was located right behind the white picket fence, in the middle of town, fenced with the rusted gate made of something that looked like it might have been perfect steel and diamonds a very long time ago. The fence somehow seemed godly, as if it depicted something that was ancient in origin. The blush roses and the white tulips were always in bloom, scattered across the waterlogged soil. They were always perfect; no season could touch them. They stretched across the veranda, giving life to what could be dead. The flowers were beautiful, perfect – but something about them seemed ancient. Strange. Asleep. Yet awake – alive. Ready, waiting.</p>Tiffany Dumas
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2025-07-172025-07-1781Vol.8 No.1 (2025): WritingThreeSixty
https://epubs.ac.za/index.php/w360/article/view/2934
<p>Download the full issue here.</p>Peter Oyewole Makinde
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2025-07-172025-07-1781