Home » Poems » Best » Kunda Chamatete » Best Kunda Chamatete Poems

Best Poems Written by Kunda Chamatete

Below are the all-time best Kunda Chamatete poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Kunda Chamatete Poem

Sticks and Stones

If you are cathedral of consecration
I'm the voluminous chime summoning souls 

If you are the moonglade mountain peak 
I'm the fedora of snow atop you

If you are the bantam flame of hope 
I'm the mammoth lantern you sit in

If you are the magnificent crown of laurel
I'm the koh-i-noor glowing your majesty 

If you are the whorly petals of the gypsy-sue
I'm the daggerlike thorns of flaw

If you are the bard of the Zambezi 
I'm the first sonnet of your anthology

If you are the mythical firebird
I'm the scarlet embers of reincarnation 
 
If you are the forsaken pirate ship
I'm the glubs of your drowning 

If you are the ancient persian pearl
I'm the millions carats speaking your worth

If you are the sacred vial of eternity
I'm the gluck to the kingdom come 

If you are cathedral of consecration
I'm the open arms of the door of mercy

Details | Kunda Chamatete Poem

Zoe

"Drop your pants Zoe"
"No, am scared"
"You will love it, trust me"
"Aa aa aa am scared"
"Look into my eyes, Zoe"
"Okay, be gentle"

It's the deafening sound of silence 
Tickling the ghost of her past
She hears a sea laughters
Wave after waver, laughter after laughter
She hears a council of drums; 
Drumsticks, the skeletons of her closet
She hears the phantom crunch of footsteps
Foot after foot, moon walks on the gaunt floor of her psyche 
Dance after dance, dust after dust 
Banshees hum lullabies; weredogs sway her cradle 
Her neck is failing, the weight on her head is pressing
Reins are taut and insanity rides the chariots of sanity 
A salvo of dragonballs roast her neurons; her mind is an apocalypse 
She grabs her head in disguise and  wails off her trance.
Her howl strikes a match, scare away the ghost.
She looks around, hoping no eye bears witness 

D etonated
E mbarrassed
A fflicted 
T ormented
H arassed 

Her silence, her death, her noise, her breath
Her grace, emotive; 
That's why she's talkative
That's why she's hyperactive
She laughs to dead jokes and her lungs slave in their cage of ribs
Harass not but embrace her.

Details | Kunda Chamatete Poem

Dirge of Aleppo

Whorls of smoke mock the void of the heavens; in a wiggling ascent 
With lusting waists of a samba decent.
Turmoil combs the fragile mane of the soil
The scalp is torn and leathery fingers of dust rest against the helm.
The stench of burning tires staggers on its knocked feet.
Embers are peach, ashes are red; a jihad is ablaze.
While ceasefire less sure-fire,  birthdays wis deathdays;
Missiles are fireflies, explosions are lullabies and cops are corpses.
Life lays under the belly of the drone
And Islam feels a bending moment about the fulcrum of redefinition.
Fathers rot in the mild stomach of war;
Mothers drought in barren maroon eyes;
The succulent chaste vines of daughters squashed for concubines;
Cheerful flames of innocence choke in lanterns of caliphates,
Quills swim in ink, wrists are steady and boys are authors of death.
A realm lit with dead air, no heirs
Human rights lay in mass graves
While death and her cousins dance in a masquerade.
Soils are rich with the blood they sip
Walls bleed on in reds of graffiti.
White phosphorus rains, post traumatic stress reigns the rainbows. 
Wings are spread and the tail is cocky,
Tides are breathing and the black flag wafts on,
With flickers of pride darting off its white scribblings.
But the drone cuddles its belly, licks its fingers,
The drone burps as the flag wafts on.

Details | Kunda Chamatete Poem

Bereavement

Earth,
from your
womb was born.
Receive this body,
Soil.

Details | Kunda Chamatete Poem

O' Baobab

O' Baobab! O' Baobab! O' Baobab
Ace of the furnace, finest of the dynasty 
You strut your breast high
And ply strain against the yearn, 
Against the fire, the desire for sigh 
Haughty, you stand, before the salvo slivers of the sun
Arms spread, nerve unturned 
Embracing every lance, every pierce  
Skin dread, you bleed yet your yells seek no heed
Under the cascade of your tears
Blooms the stalk of your poise 


O' Baobab! O' Baobab! O' Baobab
Architect of the tart, tingling tickle of the buccal 
The drooling sour of the pulp off your carpel
Is a zinger sinking the dimple
The sensation is a finger rubbing in linger 
The friction burns, and man quests to quench 
He has haggard the mesh of your flesh
With cold steel, to rung him to his feel 
Laden, you stand, trodden, bloody 
Yet you draw no blame off your scabbard
In the thick your girth cradles to the elixir of life


O' Baobab! O' Baobab! O' Baobab
Talon of the earth, felon beyond girth
The chromel claws of your toes
Rattles brutal before all foes
With the sickle curl of your blades
You plow into the crust 
Plunging deep into forbidden zones
Shredding flesh and bone alike 
Crumbs of quartz make tell of your sovereignty 
You even defy to tap the orange of the molten core


O' Baobab! O' Baobab! O' Baobab
Titan of the land, on whose shoulder I stand 
In the dreary clutter of squalls 
You nod not your boughs 
In the sheer wreathing of every gush 
You kiss wary to your arms 
Of the temptation of submission 
And pride in the flaunt of the alchemic gem
Enshrined in your eternal esteem 
The fractals of lightning stripes sleeping in your back 
Wardrobe legends of pluck



O' Baobab! O' Baobab! O' Baobab
Sender of omens, harbour of numens
The hunger in the divorce of your jaws
Opens portals to the soul of the land
In the gloom of your yawned mouths
Blooms caves, oracles and shrines
Homes to genies of the land
Predators of whirls across sands
And Grantors of the will of the hand
In the swell of your monstrous shade
Dwells the concord of all life forces
The unison of voices and the accord of choices 


O' Baobab! O' Baobab! O' Baobab
Bulb of the vale, whale of the dale
The wrought plumage of your skin
Is a sheen dispersing lines of shine
Along every trail of the fine of sine
Every ray veils you eiffel of the vale 
The raven greed in the spread of your arms
Into the vast vicinity of the heavens 
The naked of your neon deciduous strip
And the turnip ripe of your promiscuous hip
Is a whip on the optic lobe, a fab off every lip 



O' Baobab! O' Baobab! O' Baobab
Guru wama guru , teller of every tale
First of the lands, last to the sands  
When the brooks of breath raise dust
And the rocks of robust thirst lay hearth
When whirls of despair sweep cross the sands
And trails of dearth haunt the lands
When the wells of sweat run out
And the swells of anguish pop out
Life will inch unto and ski on the ice of your shade
Rise its chalice high, toss cheers to your kingdom come 


O' Baobab! O' Baobab! O' Baobab
Hoary hose of ecstasy, wholly rose of fantasy 
The carpet fall of your spring flowers
Powers the native girl child 
The grace in the way she picks up every bundle 
In the rainbow hem stitched by the throng of thrilled butterflies
She plucks off the white of every petal to unwrap it 
In the warming care of her supple palms
She rests and sways it, against her bosom 
With gratitude written in her smile 
The little being sitting in every flower 
Gives barbie no chance into the girl's  heart

Details | Kunda Chamatete Poem

The Scarecrow

Amidst the fine feetle of veggies in the garden of truth 
Stands a monstrous scarecrow.  
Of a fungoid parched face and a half baked gaze.
Of shrunken smoked sockets and drunken knocked eyeballs.
Bulged cheekbones force the halloween smile
While the amateurish wrought neck holds the somewhat ogrish skull.
A thin narrowing stream of a sparrow's yellowing cream 
Tinges it's elvan nose to the apex.  
Pepper red vitriol burns in the dunes of the coarse skin 
And four daggerlike claws clinch at the gliding inches of the sisal woven arms. 
Crickets and roaches cohabit in the meshes of the morbid hobbit charvet shirt.
The eroded black ribbons travelling along the sleets of the pirate jacket
Compliment the dotted woolen twines of hair flowing down the bald scalp
Then...
Beyond the spread of the evenly scaped acres of the khaki greens
Lives a dearth among apes 
That's strips down their velvet raiment of fur 
And pulls to skin their horrid skeleton.
Dry bones litter the vale and life faces the wink of hell.  
Yet the flora of truth remains unturned, untouched, unchanged  
A death from a dearth seems painless 
Than the drilling wreath of the scarecrow's claws to the turbine of breath  
Sandwiched in the succulent greens of the garden of truth 
Stands a scarecrow ladened with less ruth, wrath full
A fabricated beast called STEREOTYPE

Details | Kunda Chamatete Poem

Sweet Earth

O
Sweet earth,
You awe me.
Your daring wiz of 
Forging day and night.
How do you just do it?
Your belly of oceans and 
That breast of mountains and shorelines.
They say you were once a burning ball
Where do you really come from? I wonder.



04/06/17
Poem Type : ETHEREE

Details | Kunda Chamatete Poem

Things We Lost In the Fire

These are the ashes of what's left of our fire...
What to expect when electricity meets water;
Though our love has sundered, bittersweet polaroids and toffee greeting cards endure.
... When a house is lost to flames, one surviving photo is worth a thousand carats
And so I go with these memories that come ripe again to soul and bone,
A bounteous pension for the things we lost in the fire...
A bed of roses and a chest of knives. 
When a bough rustles a ballad but no one to sing to
She soon sheds like tears;
There is nothing anywhere but nakedness and wretch and sure days of barrenness...
No elastic smile, only guttering cheeks.


16/02/18
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Details | Kunda Chamatete Poem

Toy Soldier

Tens of hundreds of threads that cannot keep warmth;
So I'm paddling in my sheets,
Between me and sleep are cats from the neighbourhood 
whose meows are babies out crying each other in the dark;
And once again my waxen heart walks the cold wire of night.
I think to myself how strange years decay;
How daunting the sound of my voice quakes within my lungs,
And how this chin has inflamed into a carpet of bristles and pimples.
I think to myself how slow the fragile sprouts
of yesterday become forests of today,
And realise how soon sons of the hoe become men of the crop;
Now that I'm a man with hopes, dreams and responsibilities,
I will sorrow not for the suns of my days of youth,
But learn to live this fate;
Rivers spite not their fates with the sea.
The departure of a boy from his parents' house
Is the tossing of a sparrow into a violent wind.
Life is watching my first steps into this demanding war of adulthood,
I don't expect much to come into these sinful hands;
For a million dishes there is to wash before one can dine with life,
I'm just a toy soldier.


12/07/17
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Details | Kunda Chamatete Poem

Ode To My Better Man

I
The rains have washed the air
and landscapes glow in a soothing summer green
that perfectly tints the blue skies.
Grasses are dancing a samba of love and country,
Woodpeckers are flocking with a music of timber,
Beetles have tinged the acacias in a mating fashion,
Blooming Barbertons have leaned their hue towards the sun,
While earthworms are steadfast to till the land;
Creation seems to celebrate the communion of souls,
The lines in the palm of the creator are subtle 
Yet, the emptiness of my heart is filled with nature's muse.

II
Boughs seek the next wind to rustle a new song;
I sit in this fluttering shade
and sing a poem of a better man than me.
There's so much to feel in this life,
And a whole lot to give to this world,
I have spent my years learning what 
and what not to feel and a whole lot to give,
The conflict within a man seeking purpose 
is but a river seeking the blue of the sea.
I don't question why it has taken so long to come here; 
This is where fate brings me, a hermitage of peace.



08/06/17