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Best Poems Written by Phillip Fungurai

Below are the all-time best Phillip Fungurai poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Sounds of Silence

Sounds of silence


I lay flat on the smooth lawn in reverence,
Gazing at the sparkling assembly of stars in silence,
The wind blew peacefully leaving flowers in a gyrating dance,
The ducks floating on the water in the river so tense,
The usually tranquil doves quivering cold on the parks’ fence,
Naughty monkeys making love in an ecstatic trance,
As if in protest, the gods send heavy rains,
The monkeys froze on the fence as if fettered by chains,
I lay there as the rains broke the sounds of silence,
Soaked with little streams meandering in grotesque despondence,
I lay there in virgin admiration and adoration of Mother Nature,
Mother Nature and sounds of silence worthy of standing ovation,
My conscience wonders, my soul ponders, my mind shudders,
Always when l lay on this smooth lawn in reverence,
Gazing at the sparkling assembly of stars in silence,
Listening to the serenity of the sounds of silence.

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Lost In Confusion

Lost in confusion


A scar time will never heal,
A scar dangling in the hands of fate,
Take a glance at all four corners of the earth,
Some are filled with boundless joy at someone’s birth,
Yet some are grieving over someone’s death,
Some are drowning in the murky waters of starvation,
Yet some are winning and dinning in ululation,
I am lost in confusion.

Few woke up to a fancy bubble bath,
Millions to a bath at a local river,
Some countries are in the middle of bloody wars,
Whilst some are concluding peace treaties,
Some lovers are making up.
Yet some are breaking up,
Someone is trapped in the misery of tribulation,
Someone in the loneliness of isolation,
Yet someone is hogging the limelight
Cloistered in the world of fame

Some people are harmful, some helpful,
Some chose the ballot, some the bullet,
People love without reason, without reason they hate,
The heart that hurts beats the scar,
The scar of the mystery of life
The secret is to persevere,
To be better today than you were yesterday,
It’s better to die great than live grieving,
So I’ve been told and so I believe.

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What Makes a Man a Man

What makes a man, a man?


What makes a man, a man?
Would it be the hard work he goes on with?
Or the way he goes on with hard work
Is it about how he plans his work?
Or how he works his plan
Is it about the life he lives?
Or how he lives the life
What makes a man, a man?

Is it about the choices he makes?
Or how he makes the choices
Would it be how he makes things happen?
Or how he takes things easy
Is it because he is an effectual schemer
Or an impractical; dreamer
It boggles my mind-What makes a man, a man?

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Maybe One Day

Maybe one day.


Maybe~ one day l will fly away,
Fly away to the moon,
And dance among the stars,
To discover the essence of spring,
On Jupiter and on Mars,
Ceteris~paribus (other things being equal),
To fill my heart with tranquility,
Fill it with harmony,
And feel the sounds of silence
Maybe l’ll then smile with my heart.

Maybe one day l’ll fly away,
To a world of realists not idealists,
Where politics is never deemed a game,
Somewhere where there is true benevolence,
Not benevolence to profiteer and make name,
A place where politicians don’t flaunt egotist credentials,
And absolute fabrication persists never.

I would love that kind of a place,
Away from the traffic boom,
Too far from the insanity of mankind,
So far from the energy crisis and global warming pronouncing world doom

Maybe one day l will fly way,
I might not have to,
If there be world war three,
Be it the last nail on the coffin of world problems,
Be it not, I’ll just have to fly away,
And see if dreams come true,
What has been, will not be,
What will be, that has never been,
Life runs in cycles.
So I’ve been told and so I believe.

Details | Phillip Fungurai Poem

My Generation

My generation


I have found refuge in this pen and paper,
On which my heart bleeds and oozes emotion,
Seeking hope in the power of imagination,
From this mental and political pollution,
All hopes to be a renounced diplomat, shattered by corruption,
Because l don’t have the connection,
Seating on my honors degree, miles from satisfaction,
My generation needs – my generation needs,
Affection and redemption,
Redemption from these claws of segregation and polarization,
Piracy and heresy,
My generation desires a revolution,
A revolution desires a voice,
A voice is blossomed by choice,
Bullet or ballot, our choice has been stolen and taken,
Like an aborted baby, denied its first cry,
Miserable mothers refusing an unborn baby just a little try,
Little try to change the world,
Little try to wake the giants within them,
My generation has been aborted.

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Cry Beloved Life

Cry beloved life


Cry beloved life,
When you love someone and you are never loved back,
When your world is all deem and black
When you are left behind in the success race,
When failure rears its ugly face,
When the future is haunted by the past,
When happy moments fade away like morsels of dust,
When the going gets tough,
When your enemies have the last laugh,
When you call for help and no one answers,
Nothing but echoes of your loud self, imminent to the rescue,
Hopeless tears, cry beloved life.
Life at its saddest point, cry beloved life,
A mind glittered with glitters yet the eyes are color blind,
Ears longing for melody yet deaf,
Graced only by the sounds of silence,
And cry beloved life.