Samson Nyarima
Samson Nyarima Poems
My private life is
Broken china on wet asphalt
Trying to gleam but only a dull reflection
Of once art remain,
...
Slowly, the sun peeps
From its mourning grave
Red like a forgotten bush fire
Touching the embers of a waking day
...
When finally we come out of this long
Silence
It will not be for hate,
Rather, the not wishing
...
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Poet, playwright,)
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My Private Life
My private life is
Broken china on wet asphalt
Trying to gleam but only a dull reflection
Of once art remain,
They are jagged
No longer tender to touch
This crossing
That was never done to the full
Indifferent wheels crunch
Their stubborn will almost to powder
But they still are discernible
Parts of jaded glass-bits
On a perimeter fence
A guarded atmosphere, broken
Lying on a wet asphalt
Tomorrow, washed away, gone
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5/3/2024 6:13:04 PM # 1.0.0.1119
