Poetry

November 15, 2017 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

Miville Tremblay photo

 

By

Nyashadzashe Chikumbu

 

 

 

Medical Mayhem

 

 

A live hive buzzing with

laughter, a pot of

merriment on the stove

that soon boiled cold.

Silent a dead grave our

infirmary was, as

The King bee came to plant

flowers of rue upon his

un-expecting bride.

A man of standard he was

pure gold -his heart a

shunning 24-karat h vg.

Who liked to rule with

a wooden fist.

Always up to his malice

smile; chanting all play and

no work makes jack a

desperate boy.

 

 

 

 

The Black Plague

 

 

I’m now that unnecessary

spake of light,

on a cold winter morning.

The village drunk who

never parts with his mug,

always piping down

floods of black ink.

Never choking on the

white-creamy composition

that accompanies it.

The lonely bachelor married

to a library.

Whose wedding presents were

loud jeers – wrapped up

by a large pointing finger-

shining lunacy.

Or is it?

That ulcer sitting on the

neck of a cancer

who’s too stiff to notice.

 

 

 

 

 

Nyashadzashe Chikumbu

Nyashadzashe Chikumbu is a young rising poet and satirist who sees the stench of human folly with a microscopic eye. A citizens rights activist and a student looking all the way up to neurosurgery.

Editor review

0 Comments

No Comments Yet!

You can be first to comment this post!

Leave a Reply