Listerning to pings of the cattle bells
In the lower velds full of pungent smells
Soothed by sounds of cooing doves
Startaled bunnies and wild goose
Remember the silences of the Chiremba hills
Infested with colonies of pricking thorns
Where we Learnt and practice hunting drills
Afraid of voodoos of the Sacred stones
Cheering battles of fighting foes
Pitching on bouders and climbing trees
Humming flows and Singing blues
Traditional Beats by clapping shoes
Gathering berries for cruel bullies
sneaking on giggling Girls along flowing rivers
Drawn by mischiefs and their stimulus giggles
Categories:
voodoos, childhood, remember, youth,
Form: Rhyme
Note not sent To My Dad on Veteran’s Day:
A letter you wrote , I found
in Old Uncle Laurie’s house.
You were young, Seventeen
You wrote of things to come
War
And fear
And your new car.
Nam ate your soul
Mangled
You
Stupid war, Johnson’s shout at glory.
Our beautiful hero died too young
The damn war never would’ve come
If Their machine hadn’t killed him.
You
heeded
Johnson’s summon
Answered their call
Over the
Sea
Voodoos and Jesus nuts
Medic up, man down
Punjis and pissed pants
Wet and rotting stench
You came home. But did you come back?
Categories:
voodoos, absence, sad, war,
Form: Ballad