Kondwani Simwaba Poems

Indignant
Why do you always break my heart?
I break my back just to make you happy,
I sacrifice everything that I am for you;
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If I die before WE
Look deep in your heart and remember only that which made you smile:
Feel with your heart only that which calmed the storms in your soul,
For when you lose your head in the heat of passion, remember not to be senile:
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To catch a Scarlet Macaw
I caught a little Scarlet Macaw and I made a beautiful cage for it.
Every night when the moon would smile, I'd sit out for the show and this beautiful bird would sing a soothing serenade on repeat.
I'd toil my fingers to give it breadcrumbs galore and then I'd give it water to drink whenever I saw fit.
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Death too, is Poetic.
The ode of life is neither written in Iambic Pentameter nor any other form but blank verse, because it is not dictated by many strict poetry rules, it is but adherent only to randomness in whatever sense. Alas! Everything is Poetry; living is a never ending emotional rollercoaster of a poem and death is just Poetry in motion especially when being driven in a hearse.
I am a Lawyer but see as my side hustle I nurse wounds too, but you'll never see them because they are covered in the sheathe of my masculinity and whatever society deems right for how a man should be in pursuit of his proverbial tranquility; so these days I just weep dry tears, sob with a closed mouth, cry in silence and hold all my emotions with a clenched fist as I smile through my pain, laugh out loud despite being hurt, continue living as if blood nor tears were never shed and all this so as to protect my testosterone by hiding whatever levels of estrogens science claims I may have; say Love, my heart was broken a long time ago and many times more, ergo what I do have is a fragment of shattered glass and if you look close enough you can even see the blood circulating through my body, come now and witness the funeral of my pain, the demise of all emotions and death of all feelings because there is Poetry even is this, but see I never knew that being alive could be such an onus heavy enough to make my shoulders drag; I don't mean to brag, but am blessed with much intellect yet even so I must ask isn't knowledge some form of a hallucinogenic drug because it takes you through highs and lows and in the end knowledge itself is really just unbearable pain like letting a body repleted with so much life go by pulling off the plug.
This ode of life is neither written in Iambic Pentameter nor any other form but blank verse, because it is not dictated by many strict poetry rules, it is but adherent only to randomness in whatever sense. Alas! Everything is Poetry; living is a never ending emotional rollercoaster of a poem and death is just Poetry in motion especially when being driven in a hearse because death too, is Poetic.
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Gift and a Curse
I've been blessed!
Warning! The following statement is an Oxymoron:
I've been fortunate! Gifted with a curse to write, to overflow with endless poetic content like a broken faucet.
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BeautIful Birthday
Beautiful skies, birthdays never tell lies,
Happiness comes from the mending of all broken ties, I MEAN!
Joy comes in the morning when no one sighs,
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Lonely Bird
Let her shout out her feelings in a song; let her emotions speak louder than a gong; let her voice be heard over the Himalayas; let her heart's 808 beat simultaneous; let her sorrows be seen; let the hummingbird be her next of kin; I say! Let her eyes pour out rain; let her song describe her pain; stop her not as she cries; just let her alone as her melancholy dies; don't you act like you cared; because y'all abandoned her when she scared; she had no eyes yet she saw your plastic smiles; colder than June's feel on ceramic tiles; I say leave her alone...
See her wonder in the skies; trynna flee from this world full of lies; who was her voice when she couldn't speak? Who was her pillar when from Sunday to Saturday she grew weak? Who was her eyes when she couldn't see? Who carried her when she twisted her knee? Who cleansed her eyes? Who bonded her family ties? Let her be! Leave her alone, like you did when she was born; I say keep your compassion; now that you see in her glimpses of smiles you wanna have passion? Please! She tumbled and fell, never quite needed your help to face gravity but her brain; i mean she grew stronger because for each time she got crossed like a rail she had to train; she was mocked; trampled upon; loathed; beaten; but like a fine sword with great metal she was smitten; so just let her be...
Let her speak just listen; just be meek and glisten; let her smile; because of sorrow it really has been a while; let her flaunt herself; for she's no longer anyone's slave, just look in her shelf; let her rejoice in her own; like golden memories to pawn; let her rule like 30cm but only because she's the Queen; let her speak from her heart and worry not for it has always been clean; dare not to stop her for y'all abandoned her when she was but a lonely bird and this bird has always been my mother; that's why to describe her these words I gather...
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