WHEN LOVE IS SMOULDERED
Rosy perfume belched from a train of love
The never-ending desire of my heart
Declare a word of prophecy to my soul
Marred, and mad with foreign creams
Weighed down by magnificent scent
From frantic flowers, always confined
To flicker at night; misplaced make-ups
Charring their variegated petals while flashing
Yellow, white and red beads locked in their waists
Sleepy eyes gaping at the noise of their footsteps
Pirouetting like hips of a traditional dancer
Whispers into my ears bitter sweat of harvesting honey
———————
BAREFOOT ON WICKED SAND
Joyful hearts yearning for rain
Murmur into my ears saliva of pain
Barefoot on wicked sand
While in my hand—
Strands of a suicide rope
Hidden in smithereens of hope
———————
Poetry: William Khalipwina Mpina
Image by SeaReeds from Pixabay