Father's Fail Poem by Calvin Nyangena

So good and nice
Yet, environs!
Dreaming the vise of the vice
So red blindfolding environs
That he is free from chains
Meant to have drawn five from bars
But what? not even months.

Moths everywhere
Flying high towards light
Sometimes burnt to ashes
Sometimes rot beyond
Before reaching yonder
And so do i believe to have come from
Not even one comes to thee farewell
Claiming not to have played the cards too well
Yet with the same swift flight in a fleet flew.

Black market a dwelling place
Gambling a hobby
Best dish of moths
A problem he caused himself then
That he trapped small young unripe one
That flew low with colorful wings
Landing it to theatre
Leading to flying without wings
So pity a moth!

Worries worries worries
Free from succumbed vacuum
To a free breathing zone
Lighting a light you can light off not
A fulfillment of father's vow
Now, what move?