The Attraction by Simbarashe Ngundu
Her face is of one born on a zephyr,
But Zephuros never had a hand in the making.
Twas Yahweh Himself rather.
Her beauty, what can raze?
How quixotic I felt, looking at that onyx of a face.
In me was the eerie nymph of love.
My eyes popped and couldn`t bob,
At the tender and touching sight.
Told I my love,
But nihilists thought it zany.
My nous I lost,
Like she had put a hex on me.
Stood I on a brae,
Running scenes in my inner-screen.
O! If I was her beau.
But a miracle never came out of the blue,
Unless asks one in a duomo.
Can`t Tell by Simbarashe Ngundu
Overtones or Undertones?
Which is which?, O you can`t tell.
Flip-flopping with my creaking bones,
They think it sounds my death knell.
The wits of theirs is that of The Beast with six horns.
Pretend to love me, now its I who
I can`t tell, Is this the kiss of life or death?
I`m always fresh with new tears.
Pain or joy? O you have taken my breath.
I`m stuck to you, to pull me off I would need more than
the rain`s hearse.
Will they talk about us in the aftermath?
Or they will fall while going up our “Love Story” stairs.
Now they can`t tell if it`s pain on our visages,
While there is such stupendous joy in our very own hearts.
So seminal is our “book” in Love Colleges,
While theirs is like the boring design of a Toyota Platz.
They don`t know why we look beautiful on that tree like oranges.
Now they want to eat us up, so they can break their fast.
What Is Left Of A Couple by Simbarashe Ngundu
Now it`s only history,
But their minds are filled with nostalgia.
Night after night passed,
Incense rising in clouds .
His love silenced her,
The affair circulated in whispers.
They were like a goose laying golden eggs,
But all that, seems no more now.
Their love became a victim of fatigue,
And the affair circulated loudly.
No one can tell what is left of them.
What is left of them now,
When silence has replaced their happiness?
What is left of a couple,
When they no longer dine together?
What remains of a couple,
When they no longer chit-chat?
When love making deserts their bed?
When sheets remain unrumpled?
Surely what is left of them?
Did he push the “Cheat Start” button?
Or the “Break Promise” button?
Or maybe he pressed love`s brake pedal.
Now she is stranded in her nightmares.
Painful questions spinning in her head,
Deep suffering in her flesh.
O! poor thing.
She is trying to turn off that inner TV,
For the channels only broadcast her memories.
About this couple, nothing is left.
They had been linked by their childhood.
Most importantly by their common origins:
The same ancestors,
The same skies,
Scavenged in poverty,
Same customs and soil.
It seemed improbable to disclaim this essence,
But now their natures got distorted.
Can you tell me what is left
Of this couple.
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