DINNER

DINNER WITH THE DEVIL

Covered in the veil of evil,

Cursed to dine with the devil,

Was Yours truly, who wore a sullen face,

Starring in dismay with a relentless pace

Especially where the Devil himself sat.

Across me our eyes inevitably met,

His reddish teeth at me grinning,

My body sweltering as my head was sent spinning

With fear, examining his laced gown of black,

Jumbled up in tatters like a scarecrow, a bald head

A wrinkled ugly face and long nailed fingers.

Apart from him was a dish of unappetizing food

Warm salad, burnt rice, raw meat with no soup

In addition to the smelly thick red wine-

That sent my head aside

I could not withstand it, instead I spat

At it but him smiling, continued to eat

Enjoying himself while I was not

He never cared I was not

Only his scornful grin as my bile rose above limits

I had to vomit in response

Wishing had I refused the invitation, my appearance

I would have eluded this excruciating experience

When I was cursed to dine with the devil

Veiled by darkness of evil.  

DEMISE

THE WATERING CAN AND THE FLOWER

 

Given the can led me to refuel the flowers,

Who in turn grew alternatively with the racing hours,

No time taken soon to bloom

For the weeds, never sparring the garden spoon

Becoming the routine chore.

Little did I know the rusty signs on show

Culminated in a large spilling hole underneath

Throwing all my input under siege.

 A bond had emerged; of this Can and the flora.

Unnoticed, supplies cut, the growth rate became slower.

And slowly withered away, lifeless,

Roasted by the merciless

Sun, its red spikes poking the wretched one

Until the life-span halted, it dried out,

Startled, my eyes in akimbo only flickered hopelessly

Like a candle, struggling against the whirlwind,

Though held strongly

Nothing could stop it from being blown off-

And then Darkness –

This there upon remained with me

Inevitably still with me.

When will it take its leave, I care not

I forget not the destruction of so bright a life

With loneliness and nostalgia, the reality strife

Where memories, painted black surface each hour

Patching through the destruction of the watering can

And then the flower.

                                                    

SUPER-SUBSTITUTE

In front, our heads bow,

In our minds, but how?

Don’t worry, it’s the super-substitute,

Replacing a great institute,

Waylaying happiness,

Installing sadness.

We keep on calling,

We can’t keep off falling,

No doubt it’s over.

Are we getting older?

Think not this wind has come to a standstill,

Only the coldness to feel,

At the same time emotions to conceal

Thrust in a carcass to seal,

A chance we missed,

Forever may-be, the deceased.

 

                                                 Tatenda W Mhlanga                                        

 

 

DEATH

WHAT ABOUT IN TIMES OF DEATH

In sport we cheer

As we won’t fear,

A loss that is part of this dear

Game that would be always at hand

IS death more of a game like this?

 

In difficulties we try

Not to wait and stand-by,

As we strive to make things okay,

To fulfill the promise of day.

How do we endeavour in times of death?

 

In religion we pray,

Not afraid to carry

The burden of our lord

Who saddled our load

To save us the whole lot

Of debaucheries and sorts.

Imagine this when death comes.

 

If the sun will shine again tomorrow

It will be clear enough that sorrow

Is the prize we pay as homage to death,

A sense of inexperience to bereavement.

If that was so, how many would have courage.

 

The answer is, in death we shade tears,

This shows our deepest feelings,

On this tussling game

Of life, happiness or sadness-damn,

All thrown into an invisible dam.

That’s what we do when we face death.

 

In times of death so high are emotions,

The adrenaline pumping in motion,

Or the heart beat and blood cell in caution,

“I’ve lost my mum, my dad-oh my cousin,”

Surely in times of death there is no controlling.

 

To the deceased we feel pity

Here and there sing a ditty,

To lament our love simply

Because we respect and heartily

Pray that, “may the soul rest in peace.”

In the trying times of death- we piss.

 

When death comes we weep,

Unable to contain or keep

Emotions from outrage and throw tantrums,

“If I could I would have done something.”

But as at is, there is nothing

That can stop death from stripping everything.

 

After all, in sport we cheer

In difficulties we try,

In religion we pray.

All in all in our ability

But what about in death?

Think about it and bet

In time of death.