SPENDING THE NIGHT IN OLD KAZUNGULA
an extract from a poem written by Mpho Leteng
The sun; formless and fading,
Softly the blackness whelms it.
I'm on the veranda fondling a bottle of vodka(with lemon of course!)
As the wind flagellates heavily, I can smell cigarette smoke
Plunging like greased lightning before my nostrils!
But there's a passive feeling about spending the night in old kazungula,
Especially with a beer in hand
And the aroma of hand rolled cigarette in the neighborhood.
Rainclouds come together to tog up the unguarded sky
And finally, dewdrops fall down in disband,
A convivial reception from the gods of this land,
We'll, I just take a sip and another one
And the last one before I have Forty winks.
I will be sipping Zambian Junta for the next two weeks,
It's flavoursome and enlivening though the smell reeks,
I've heard rumours that this kachilichili knocked down mighty oaks!
TO BE CONTINUED....
Copyright © Mpho Leteng | Year Posted 2021
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