Echoes Of Distress Poem by Wilson Tinotenda Waison

Echoes Of Distress



Alas swearing on pain of death tonight
I bark deviations like a female goliath
With wrath to flare all that matter might
For the stoep reached got me rinsed, bathe

The brave voice to enchant victors triumph
Showering the masses with my dazzling light
Bursting from the impetuous minds tough
Flashy beams of enlightenment to right

The perceived portal of misconception in play
Raising eyebrows of the incursarated wit
And if not my verge to craft a dissimilar
Too, not to merge in parity then I never writ

Then I will caress my death bed forever lonely
For this endeavour stood a manifesto
Blared by the egoism of and individual
And made strenuous to the ear drum, the echo.

Friday, October 27, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: distress
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Wilson Tinotenda Waison

St. Mary's clinic, Chitungwiza Harare Zimbabwe
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