Reginald Ruwende

Why when dirges were sung
Valedictions for the unsung
You were never sprung
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Enshrined in our shrines is the carcass of an icon
Archived in our archives are the achievements of a prodigy
An outstanding outsider from the Outsiders outfit
A maestro who mastered the art of local rhumba
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So the gust raised the dust
It swiftly swept and soughed
Subtly whispered and stirred a fume
Scent of a sent whence I cared not to know
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Behind the counter,
Doer chilling doing just fine
He who to this climate hast acclimatised
On this trend treading hence his trade
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That scything scathing sensation evoked when assailed
Rather an incisive infliction of affliction
The pinch!
Thence the twinge
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Wishing you well
Albeit unwell
All is well
All will be well
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A hypnotizing figure moulded to perfection
A charming smile, so stunning, so inviting
Sheer cuteness invoking a profound sense of affection
Never ceasing to shine like sunshine
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To the allure of thy exceptional elegance
The ubiquity of descending ravens
When in descent we descend down a steep descent
Warily watch for virile vultures of virulence
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Manja kwamuri Masibanda
Shumba yakabara shumba yekwa Chirumhanzi
Poto-njere yaibika zvisina kana chipomera
Chapupuri chakavhunga nyika nanhasi takasenga nhoroondo
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Forgetful Forget Forget me not

I am no saint nor sent of God
At times it is wise to act unwise
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Piercing cry parody of prior squeals unheard
Thine hums unintelligible entreaties floating around
In thine clenched fists all they confiscated
Shall I call you SHALOM!
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Nonchalant in my purgatory
Notwithstanding my trajectory
Haunted no more by many a maudlin tale
Hounded neither by this raging gale
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Intruder innocuous
In apparel incongruous
Insignia of my inertia
Motionless as though lifeless
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Waky! Waky!
To a not so wacky frankincense
Penning still from a cesspit of pain
How my hunk I dragged in sweeping rain
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Sleek and sly
As though at pains to fly
Masons of stonemasonry impeccable
A fortress impregnable
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How we missed a missive intellible
Laced to a dame's scarred countenance
Tapestry to a mystery jarring
The cardinal sins behind the scenes
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Dame!
O, dame!

Had nature never sired torrential insurgences rocking the yacht
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Pardon me,
Neither would I have heard the soothsayers whispering
Nor the chiming bells of Zion beckoning
Itinerary unclear,
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I could be an esteemed echelon of eminence
I could be a conquering panjandrum preening in plush
The wraith,
O, that leery wraith!
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I know,
Yes I know
I know how it reeks
It gushed in my presence
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