# Cyra the poet
#🖋Dripping pen.
Norman Mwale [The PenPusher]
Yesterday croaked; died
Some many years ago
I see no mourners
Gathered at the
Memorial ceremony
I hear no more eulogies
And epitaphs
I see no more young blood
Pressing around and cheering
Anticipating a new dawn
Under shadows of yesteryear,
No ullulations
And even whistles drenching the
Sky,
They bury the past alive
In bottommost pits of infinity
Silence,
Together with her earth old virtues
Which to them worth an ounce
Of maculated isms.
l see only the age old
Sobbing out and remorsing
The dynamism of seasons while
Exhuming long derelict bones
But with no seable flesh at all
The worm burrowed and even
Took it more deeper.
They extracted guirding themselves
With undying hope,
Trying to recollect
Broken morsels of yesteryear
And petch the wound of this
Limping neo life shattered
Like pieces of clay.
Can foot impressions of yesterday
Heal the ever growing fructure
Of this overspeeding
Darkening dawn?
Love and Corruption
I aren’t shy but I choose .
to love you in love .
for I am willing to learn .
every time I am lost on love.
like a passenger on board ,
I had to tame my walls
for my eyes aren’t liars
choose love to love
for heart love is safe .
though you stripped me off
of the vast wealth
enormous tracts of hands
that even eyes
lost the vision
you are a fraud
you tricked everyone
by power of your papers ,
and strokes of your pen.
I hear the numbles
my own angry heart
I need to get even
see you crawl
and seriously wish
you were never born.
I hate the way you talk
I denounce your smile
I curse the ground
on which you were born
oh an to you love of corrupt .
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