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Timothy Chirambo Poem
The dark aprons those hearts wore is a gift of the aftermath of an ageless war
Hymns sung here unsweetens the soul and grieves the spirit
Set apart from all that is green and alive are the hopes that these caskets
beneath my feet holds; the blackness of the ghost that haunts these souls
Is blacker than the devils shadow and deeper than the abyss.
The bodies that I see and walk upon in these ruins are without hearts,
Nothing wonderful can fill the vacuum inside their minds
For all is lost and sabotaged since the heart grew cold and motionless
In ghostly screams their agonized minds cry out loud to the darkness
Their life went past ahead of them like a running thread and all passed in a
flash; The moon meets the sun and dance together in their light and brightness while teasing the heavens with temporal blindness; Sadly, the love I speak of is eclipsed for infinity and it dwells in a black veil among the widows.
Worms crawl the walls of these living man and women; their pain is so extreme that they no longer can scream for all in all love was never what it seemed to be; the sores on their fresh erase all the beauty ever known to them, What’s left for them to embrace is only skeletons of moments their soul can’t blacken neither can their tears wash away. It is unbelievable that once
nightingales use to sing in these castles to fuse the souls of men and now only
vultures wallow the lands and owls sing to the tormented ears.
I stand from afar and I watch the souls driven to these chambers of life
Wiped out with sorrow and none is mighty enough to write Aphrodite a tale of
unnatural lust for everlasting love. For all that begins ends and all that ends
begins, cycles we mortals are might to obey are way off our heads and the fate that always befall us is far from what the dreams portrays it to be;
Buts still more even though the night is dark and haunted, I can’t bear the
thought of how the younger dreams of love sounds great in the morning light.
Copyright © Timothy Chirambo | Year Posted 2018
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Details |
Timothy Chirambo Poem
Behold! beauty begot beauty
the rhythm in such simple melodies
that follow your gaze torture my heart
and plays it all along with an angels touch
worries be to my eardrums whose dance never cease.
wonders wander beneath my cranium
And my fears escalate into desperation
all things that radiates from your soul
lure me to fall like the angels whose heart
kissed and drunk from a woman's blossom
gods of Nyasaland! pardon me of the disgrace
that sheath my tongue in silence
while the strings vibrate into irresistible music
render me charming lyrics to sing
to the voice of her holy violin
even only for a sand drop of time.
Copyright © Timothy Chirambo | Year Posted 2018
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