The Pled Poem by Wilson Tinotenda Waison

The Pled



Never was I too scared, my thoughts to braille
And embroidered that feeling in disgust as it
Bored me shame to the tribunal, disgraced were
My intimates as I wandered miles away from
Ubuntu to the verge of its margins

Never was I too scared, my thoughts be scribbled
In black and white and to have fought my conscience
And violated my decency, troubled was this kin
To question the blood cut and
A blot on escutcheon I image

Never was I too scared, to have fought, a victors
Triumph, He who? To point at me by his thumb
Though mine reasons never told.This rinsed
Civilisation to have poised me between two
Crowns, my forefathers, and mine yet to decide

Oh! Never was I too scared to violet that odd,
Memories to have brought me elusive visions
Only to strain my ethics, veil morals, impede
My belief, to rejoice on taboos and revulsion
Father to have disgraced, but now on knees,

Monday, August 14, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: morality
COMMENTS OF THE POEM

Wilson Tinotenda Waison

St. Mary's clinic, Chitungwiza Harare Zimbabwe
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