Comfort Ndlovu


I'll visit him tomorrow,
Something from him I want to borrow:
I'll kneel before him and beg
until he fills my little bag.

I'll visit him tomorrow,
I'll tell him of my seas of sorrow,
I'll tell him about my life today
and the hitches I face from day to day.

Tomorrow I'll darken his door,
I'll enter and sit on the floor
and reveal my wound that's hollow,
and all the shame about to follow.

I'll say this to him: 'I'm penniless and hopeless,
I'm utterly dry and cheerless;
I'm poor like Job of old
and my life is on-hold.'

I'll narrate to him like this:
and say: 'Hear you now this:
I'm naked as night,
I'm as sad as night.

I'll visit him tomorrow
and I'll tell of my seas of sorrow,
I'll solicit handouts and money,
I'll ask for salt, grain and honey.

I'll carry on and on and on
until his Symphathy F.M. is turned on,
Though he's unapproachable as a star,
Though he's unbearable as hot tar.

On his wall I'll write with a pen:
'I'm dejected like a wet hen,
so, please, lavish unto me relief
For symphathy without relief
is like mustard without beef! '

Submitted: Thursday, July 19, 2012
Edited: Friday, July 20, 2012
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Poet's Notes about The Poem

When poverty darkens my door I run even to the neighbor who doesn't have 'the gift of giving! '

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