By Norman Mwale [The PenPusher]
Miserly carapaced in the black cutis
Of this crack of doom,
Hope slithers on the sharp edge of time
With songs conking in the bliss of this
Moonless poetry,
Life looms into the sky to roost on bare Tree canopies,
Hovering eagles lauding this nakedness,
Evoking nothing but entombment
In the lengthy gallous of this ragging
Catatombs,
Where dreams crouche. worm on Bleeding heels
As the morning rays foreswear the black Night demesne
With the wings of misery flapping richly ln mellow mood
Casting their over pregnant shadow,
To only spare cuticles of their Hibernation:
Hope emaciated, ostracized like a Wretched village dog.
The flight lingers in the fateful skies Aboard mortals suffer this aborticide
Of a dream!
As the flight orbits beyond the pale Moon
With refreshed wings to perch nomore
On this wound of life!
