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Best Poems Written by Joshua Munyaradzi Mimana

Below are the all-time best Joshua Munyaradzi Mimana poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Cry My Beloved Country

Cry my beloved country...
See mothers sorrowed with 
loneliness 
Weeping the son slaved to exist 
While masters sit crowned on a 
scarlet coloured beast
Conquering and to conquer with 
deceit
    See the land we plough dry 
and barren 
Giving birth to thorns and 
thistles of injustice and conned 
democracy 
Silencing freedom of speech 
Denying children to eat of their 
father's struggles bread 
While masters drink of our 
sweat milk and honey
    See our streams in 
turbulence flow tears of 
anguish 
Cried in silence of heart 
betrayed by the ballot, 
Made captive by the hand that 
promised to feed
Peace in freedom of unity
    See our dreams in the 
thickest of darkness 
Haunted by nightmares of 
doom
Failing young hearts 
Wandering empty streets 
barefooted and blistered 
Fighting handicapped to exist 
    See tomorrow of a 
generation I beget, 
Poverty laden streets rotten of 
incurable diseases, 
Bullets and bombs sounding the 
master's pride 
Sucking innocent blood 
strength of their existence 
Till all that's left is tears we cry.

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In Death, the Soul Shall Live

Darkened night
Of no moonlight
Silence took my cries
As I weep facing my fears 
Mortality is for the tomb
My curse is from the womb
Man of flesh shall die
But the soul eterne shall not lie
In comfort of illusions
And flatteries of religions
The life that is immortal
Shall make us one with the 
eternal
The sun rising from the east
Shall lead us to that glorious 
feast
Where man's sin shall die
And all his tied knots,  untie

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Our Fallen Heroes

O how happy art thou
In thy dwelling with darkness,
Death hath liberated thee

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How Can a Bird That's Born For Joy Sit In a Cage and Sing

I am the wounded, standing 
nude in thy midst
Showing to your eyes the 
stripes of thy iniquities
Tears dripping down my chin 
as drops of rain from the grey 
clouds
My face wrinkled with the pain 
of the violent conflicts within 
this ancient house of stones
My body bruised by the 
whipping of your politics and 
democracy
My hearing deafened by the 
loud cries of innocence and 
justice crying for their freedom 
of being
my soul blackened and 
sorrowed by our loss of sense 
and hope of morrow
The memory of our heroes 
which in its remembering
should teach us not and never 
to be inhuman again, 
Is but a mere miasma to this 
generation of a people who are 
victims of the lash of tyrannism 
A people whose sad silence is 
audible from the quiet Limpopo 
banks to the turbulence of the 
Zambezi flow
From the wonderful sights of 
the eastern mountains to the 
frightening caves of the 
western side that harbor the 
spirits of our ancestors
A people that woke up 
everyday with an unutterable 
question of survival,
A people I stand up for now 
with a blasphemous finger to 
this council....
'How can a bird that's born for 
joy sit in a cage and sing...'
We shall cry!!

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There, Was a Country

When across the land, water 
flowed
And on top of the hut, the cock 
crowed 

When under the moon, dreams 
were hope
And in pursuit of good, they 
never stop....,
There, was a country

When cries heard, were of 
sucking babies
And the speech of our lords 
were glad tidings

When man of the cloth, search 
of God wisdom
And those we crowned, toiled 
to feed our kingdom....,
There, was a country

When plough shares, worked 
the ground
And in sweat, fists were never 
clinched

When the land to the nation 
brought forth grain
And the fists of fathers, never 
caused pain....,
There, was a country

When drums were of dance and 
praise of gods
And voices of mothers were 
sounds that soothe our souls

When in dark night, the land 
was with light
And in day, evil was never hid 
from nature's bright....,
There was a country

When the wind blew our flag 
high with pride
And the death of our heroes 
would bring grief countrywide

When those of the east would 
long to meet our king
And of the west, would feed 
from our pastures green....,
There, was a country

But now here we stand...,
Without a vesture of covering 
Our streams, crimson and our 
streets, a chotic tide

Youths fighting
Fathers toiling
Mothers wailing
Politics, a canker to our 
economy

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All That Avails Is Flight

Along the streets..., we run
Chased by our fears..., we run
Seeing our end coming..., we 
run
Slaved by their injustice..., we 
run
Silenced by betrayal..., we run

Our hands tied from behind, 
handicapped
They whipped us, they inflicted 
pain to conquer this mind
We slaved in day, and 
sorrowed when the moon was 
light
When the skies were overcast, 
our souls were downcast 
lamenting
Till the fountain of our tears 
has run dry
and now we cry no more....,

freedom and peace, they have 
killed by their democracy
impartiality of justice, buried 
forever in the dark tomb of 
politics
Patriotism is the fightings they 
cause among the youths 
brainwashed by their slogans
to appease their insatiable 
hunger for power and delusions 
of grandeur..,
Now the wise and the able in 
fear brave to run
For all that avails is flight

They cannot be fought
They are power, they lose not
They run the race and they 
determine the mark
They speak to be listened and 
are heard by us
They walk in plain, not their 
good talk

In the court of justice, innocent 
themselves they judge
They kill fathers with a bullet, 
youths they blind their sight
When they dance in merry, 
they kill the young with hunger
With fear to mothers, a nation 
they have subdued 
And now out of bravery we 
seek our escape
For all that avails is flight....

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Zimbabwe '08

Grey smoke of burning limbs
A burnt charred flag of 
patriotism flying
In the June 27 democracy

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Beautiful Dawn

The rose-pink light of 
dawn
Took away my gloomy 
nights
The smile that became 
my day

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Democracy Is a Fraud

Democracy hypocrisy
Hypnotising justice
Victimising masses
Africa, Asian, countries
Fightings, freedom cries,
The rich, the powerful sides 
America, the British allies,
The House of Commons is 
white,
Slavery, hate, injustice arise
Russia, the Arabs to wise
The power of victory is sacrifice
Atomic power, nuclea mis-
energy
Philosophies of discrimination hues
Colour, creed, a bias of races
Politics, the poor's soul 
bleedings,
Democracy is a fraud.

Details | Joshua Munyaradzi Mimana Poem

Behold the Light

Behold the light
The illumine of the sun 
of 
righteousness
The source of life and 
power of 
creation
That shines the day and 
outweigh the night 
darkness
With its beauty, stature 
and 
the essence of the 
maker

Behold it's beauty
Above the hill tops and 
in the 
shades of the mountain 
peaks
The beauty absorbed in 
streams below and in 
sprouting 
lilies
Spread on butterfly 
wings and 
floating with the falling 
feathers
The reflection of 
harmony and 
affinity of nature
the warmth of creation,  
the 
cosmic worship

Behold it's stature
A body of perfection and 
eternity,
Born not of a canal 
conception 
of sexuality,
clad in a vesture of the 
finest 
cloth of immortality
Standing on the land and 
on 
the sea
reaching to the heavens 
of 
timelessness 
Glowing with the glory 
and 
power of the maker

Behold the maker
The ancient of days of 
the 
utmost beauty, 
knowledge and 
goodness
The omnipotent one, 
without 
desire of want
A being self caused, of 
which 
the nature is only 
conceivable 
as existence
A mystery of our mental 
comprehension
full of all opulences 
divine and 
sublime 

Behold the light
Behold its beauty
Behold its stature
Behold its maker