Turn Of Screws Poem by Paul Mwenelupembe

The sea, what a fee to see
Pinned on the beach, hardly I to say
Seen the tides, what a tides to ripe
The weather belching, on brimes of my lips
The clouds, what a clouds littered in the universe
Taken up I the storm remembered my story
It blew over the languid sky, what a liquid in the sky
Amid nails the temple was laid to pay
It went, what a go into fresh of my soul
Kept on my eyes I throwing page of my book
Over the body laughing, what an open bodies to cry
It was a bull in the slaughter house of flamed land
Tides crawled slowly, what acrawl on the floor
In my face I faced my fence a swash to a back swash
Like a surf on water, what a surf on the blues
That grinned sightly turned I the screws to fly
A bag of bones what a bag to carry on
As clouds filled my head if the body took to heels
My skin in the sun pierced, grew again
As gradual as smouldering charcoal, what a frame to see
The sea, my seat stood still in storks missing storm