Paul Mwenelupembe - poems · 2017. 11. 18. · Paul Mwenelupembe(5 December,1984) My original name...

Poetry Series

Paul Mwenelupembe- poems -

Publication Date: 2014

Publisher:Poemhunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive

Paul Mwenelupembe(5 December,1984) My original name is Paul Mwenelupembe, I come from a very small village calledMuyeleka at Ngara in Karonga district. I was born in a family of seven childrenand am the first born. I have moved in many schools, I have an O' levelCertificate, and a Diploma in Land Administration, obtain at Natural ResourcesCollege(University of Agriculture and Natural Resources) , Malawi. I started writing when I was just a little boy, but this art was agalaveted after Ihard written my O' level(Malawi school certificate of Education) at Mvera ArmyCommunity Secondary School. The reason is I started teaching on part timebasis at Combat Support Battalion, Mvera. My teachings were not limited by anyclass, I had to teach all classes starting from Form 1 to Form 4; and standard 1to stardard 8. My favourite subject was Mathematics in teaching other thanliterature. So I came across a certain standard three simple poem. That was the beginningof my full time writing in the year 2004. I also write short stories, in short Iamfully vested in Literal work. Besides, Iam a member of Malawi Writers Union. Currently Iam working as a surveyor in the ministry of lands housing and urbandevelopment, under the department of surveys, based in Lilongwe, capital city. I really enjoy my work besides my art.

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A Crier At Hora A crier, dripping and drippingA crier at HoraTears of bees overflow the bucketAnd rivers over popular at HoraAnd lead to the elephant water body Arms in akimble and legsFalling from heaven like snowOh, why? why? why? why?Wretched and wretched at HoraAnd feeling very doodling sorryAnd tears are cooking bread And that nose says yesYes my slippery road at horaAnd the face adorned with ridgesAnd so huge that sparks inside Hora The essence, at Hora?Is folded and rolledIn this crier's memory at Hora Paul Mwenelupembe


A Day To Remember If all days were this dayWhen a child was born in a cityBorn was a child among sun smilesOf pregnant hope that swells in the new milesWith happiness upon this child's cryWas aspoil and clues were well clung, in the dreamersAs a future ray at the brown skin Such is a climb upon the steepy hillAre the eyes glued to its increased lengthThat of ahand some boy playing with mythWithin the city of a polite landWith a moon that takes careThe wind for a new born If that day would come againAnd take this child's applauseOf herds of cattle just the main clausesuch a forgone glowing reactionAs the best smiles among dews' factionIs an up close attainable pageAs cloulds percolate their gateAnd glances at a long devine loveOf this memorable day. Paul Mwenelupembe


A Flower To Kiss Aflower to kiss,the flower yet to be floweringSo cute but not yet clutteringin the bowl, the flower is the sentThe yet beautiful but greatly cuteThe flower, flowering a gloryThen, now the smell is the scent Glory, glory is the nameThe rose flower standing amissThe rose flower that tantalisesIn the midst of the green gardenSuch a light in the natural eyesThe golden eyes sparklingIn the flower, so flowered In the flower, yet to kissSo eyes get the truthIn the flower of the daysEach day, tomorrow and yet to rebornThe world flower, flowered, floweringAnd the flower, flowered yet to kiss Paul Mwenelupembe


A Glorious Focal Point Little by little it goesLike a titi bird in the skyFlying with open wingsyes, they sayIn a deep and soft voiceIs an angelWhere is it going? Now they open their eyesIn a wonderful smilereally awanderful grinwith their lips inside agapeNoses nearly pointing to each otherWhat? They say Prescription rescuesThe matter of changeand the open windowwith some drizzleson it So it does slidewhere is it going?Is the green fieldof somebodyIt closes its wingsslightlyYes, it really smileson ends Paul Mwenelupembe


A Hand Of Sands The fall, along evident edge of cold handsWelcomed a hidden laugh in a dark worldFrom the sun movement, a glow in the red landIn between a swift flow got rooted inAs a white shirt drove by wayTo a stooped arrest and picked up the flowerBy its bee inside the beehive In such narrow strip of landNarrow piece was of busy beesA hand of sands dangled to the flowerA hand of sands, look a hand of sandsCaught a fall into the potholeAnd draw the unneutered sands Glad of the lift, double tallest sleevePushed a swerve from a sea of busy beesA hand of sand, please o’ a hand of sandsAnd off the insect rubbed the wolvesAnd took the offer of a car seat Did you fall, yes down like a waterfallWith that stand out full view statureIn the flowers’ bowl the walk dissolvedYou only you can tellAs the flyer pulled overAnd off loaded the footing bee Paul Mwenelupembe


A Lapse Of My Memory This mirror of mine, this oneA brain master in such colors day by dayI call it a great mixture of blue lensMy ultra violet rays, my radiatorThat drains, not drains of a ground waterWith a table laid on a regulatorIt does rise the master weaver to the moonAnd sun gaining, not gaining its lights insideOf the talkable intelligence loomWhile nights bow, and bends down with booksAnd sweeps, sweeps, sweeps its loopsTo be there fed, fed like a little childThe bulk container of the intermediate mildsWhen it lapses its mint and leakAnd the master memory flips a substancial meekAnd lapses, lapses its screen and gulpsEspecially alittle memory set up in the gapAnd relax! break! its colleague shoutsTo find, bring order by command of fightBrain, the master of coloring day by day Paul Mwenelupembe


A Never Ending Verse When crippled twice in the breathWhen lights shine and overturn the dreadlockWhen water slippers by metres' graveThe fashion follow and falls, the singer filtersThe unrisen hook gets the wrathAnd curls again the dreadlock with claysAnd the tortured soul gets by and smilesAnd awaits the author's take the pleaIn the never ending verse Paul Mwenelupembe


A Run Unto Me From home of my own sentimentsA day came to tell a taleOver the sky and of the crowd freeIt came like a mango fall from the treeA T-road of that day railings Some crawl radiated on the run unto meAll the way to my office routesAnd came to accomplish the dayJust at the verge of turningAnd my thoughts stopped If angels were meant like thisFlipping a speed, stopped inside soulsIt dropped a run, o’ the angel ranInto my caged standstill hugAnd smiled to the sun in my arms Paul Mwenelupembe


A Seat Of You And I The voice of your smell in the kitchenWent into a bamboo seat, the dinning setAfter a cook of you and I, well two cooked dishWe had to eat facing faces of flowersA laugh was a raining day fallingOf the journey to midnight melodies I felt the floor, the roof and your fearsBetween you and I, me carried the towelOver the bamboo seat to rub off your reflectionsOver the bamboo table was a source of smileAnd made up our delicious African courseAnd welcomed to our insima, fish of vegsIn the seat of you and I Paul Mwenelupembe


A Smile At Shoprite Quiet see, I so cool in tis blissful shadePlates had a two dancing FrocksRoses grabbing a rubbing on our lipsThe cowboy, over the moon and remains withinSlowly but sure we had our dayAt lunch, an egg of peaceful shellI saw that red face adorned in glassesThen I kept a look to raise your headThen I saw a sea of that smileWe had a smile shopped at Shoprite tree Paul Mwenelupembe


A Speck On One's Eye Has the speck struck youIn the eye is this ones eyeCloser crops in the house of specks Would you close the door that reoccupy its homeA yell clearly stands in one's houseAnd yet mouth butts in the starIn the sky is a ring behind that scar Would you watch the travelIf spikes were common busesA hit in this eye is agongAnd dart game comes aroundAnd completes its circlesOf a horrific styles in a battle field If a black eye is like a sunThen it shines in one's eyeIn such a bowl tingeOf a fused seedIn that grazing womb Had a razor became a bladeAnd swords would be shades inside gradesOf watery King, the juicy KingIs within the orbital pathAs wide as sea wave is the loom Had the optic nerve cried foulIt would be apain to the brainIn such that the heart feelingsIt feels like a bladeThat slices in a burning charcoal Has your eye accepted the speckThey play on one bedWhile one's eye shrinksWith no reasonable sightBut in the end


Gives sight again Paul Mwenelupembe


A Talk Of Her Steps Ocean of steps, a talk has the sun takenOne, two counting to the tall sketch is madeOn such slab, red heart slate they clunch on the mirrorThey go, a talk of her steps echo o'yeeThe mother of my seeds draws nearTo the mercy seat, closer and closer she comesTo fit in the cup of double crown setsGlancing and pounding into eyes of the kingSteps, a tall of her steps, one two, together we went Paul Mwenelupembe


Africa Beings Of Treasures Africa, such a dwelling paper to write onLittered with a spring of thoughtsOf being black and orbits the sunIn a teething treasures, writers and wintersRecoil rollers in glows of pizzaOn a piece of rivered Safari feedsInside Africa, beings of treasures Deep and deep they hold the seaBottomless nets fishing laughsAnd canoes Floats on a peaced water seasAnd rises from high table of green citiesAnd crowns a settle set of brown crowns Up see a sea of yearning hopeWritten in large print on their facesAs It preserves a prepared watered basinWith their pens swimming awalkCloser to the sun's core are good readsThat vomit an uprise stony storiesFrom motherland, to the east is their stlylesAs eternal apples of eagle minds And on the clustal plate is such volumesTreasures of being Africa lead an eye lidThat offloads such loads of hot lodsRolled and whip the dead upriseOf Africa, beings of treasures Paul Mwenelupembe


Amelia Rose At Summer Park On the blink of an eyeAmelia Rose here at Summer ParkIt poured a sense of inward rosesWhile the open sky received a summer freeAnd wired the dinning set on faces It came out, such a pregnant of heart beatsDancing, jumping but with that slow jamsOf such souls raining side by sideA sea went into a long beach of stories The river had to take the lineAnd all courses from their blossomWere tied to such river runUntil it reach at the brim of the sea There was a bucket full spokenFrom that youth river, middle stageO’ on that flood plainFrom the highest mountain of rosesAt last a struck was heard into the seaOf push of Amelia rose Paul Mwenelupembe


And I Sing This And I sing this aloneAsong of unforgettable tuneThen I raise up the voiceIn a standing out hoarse Such a cold blooded animal IamAnd swim now aloneDown there, with hot musicI come back in runic make upAnd I sing this beside awide tone And I sing this aloneI was never meant to do thisI was never supposed to burymy earlier self and wriggleout of the strong fish tailwhat a foolish thing to believe I'm back down thereand swim in murkywaters, cold bloodedCovered in seaweedsLike all men from my tribe And I sing this last verse aloneThat I hit the bells, bells, bellsIn style And I sing this best songThe audience follow my stepsAnd sing along above their voicesAnd this is my song Paul Mwenelupembe


Anxiety What makes me worring?This takes me, my joy, away from meIt has alot to sayIt says you worry I worry indeed when I addSo anxious, distruptive, so badAnd I become angryAnd angry like a hungry lion I worry indeed when I subtractSo desperate, so blink, so submergedAnd doubt, doubting about myselfAnd this is the point of losing faithCompletely I leave the sea of life I worry indeed when I muiltiplySo holding fears, so imaginative,so quantifiedAnd up the heaven of hellAnd falling, I become afraid,Afraid of myself I worry indeed when I devideMy days into days of future dividendsup again I leave, and forgateAnd I become forgottenIndeed God is my observer,my judge Paul Mwenelupembe


At Baobab Stop Over Sun rise at Chikhwawa triangle stop overNear and under the roof of baobab treeTossing and sweeping arms' thirsty roverLaughing, gaping ashort freedom trip Fused in the king waiting his assentBut he came and tested the roverThe Mr GPS under hungry lionThe Baobab tree calling to silenceIt quenched undernearth and reappeared That was an exchange the rover storyStopped it turned to work grave hazeAnd seriously absorbed the changeThat's another move, but at baobab stop overIt cared lives below supper shades! Paul Mwenelupembe


Beauty In The Woman Perched, dropped, flippedSounds of the daySounds of the woman in colors In beauty she cropsIn beauty she countsWhile beauty in her eyeIs blonde, scorch, gloomy Drunkard in spots hitIs a woman with beautyHer face, agolden facet Beauty in the womanCraves no murmurs, calm she comesHead on the valley of greenof saltlessSpeechless and never smilingLike adog Beauty in the womanLoving she is bornCaring she spoils in a rebornWhile dragging in no warssuch afamily of fameOnly lives in her Paul Mwenelupembe


Blissful Democracy Such is a bloc of votes and people is a smileBleeding hope, no bloopers is their admirationAdorning blossom that blots out violence is a lingSilent cast bonanza of true volume is their dressYearning glory, a push ahead resourcefully is a smile Panorama is a political will and landscape is a creelThis a parameter of blissful is democracy's realPeople floating on peace, beautiful events are their war Pesident elect is solemn and queen is a flowerContestants construe accords is a visitor's songOld figures assemble at homburg desert are their talksOne speech and ties are the hood's gratitudes Paul Mwenelupembe


Boabab Tree That big tree, O' baobab treeSweet fruits you carryRaised up at a distanceThat I never reach withmy bear handsBig trunk, and wide branchesyou have O' you slippy creatureThat people engrave uponTo make their way upAnd remove your craft Sweet fruits you carryAnd manufactured from that berryAnd stored up by the upper gateOf a well known mother's care That big tree, O' baobab treeIntegrity you have withinAs beautiful as aglass of grapesIn the tropical drink to the table Sweet fruits you carryThe mother of tropical drinkThe mother of the fatherlessSee! People like your blendThat big tree, O' baobab tree Paul Mwenelupembe


Butterfly In The House Beauty is like a butterflyIt flies into the houseAnd get out of a natural skyThat buzzes from the hasslesAnd settles down in theliving room It carries sediments on its wingsAnd at half cast it spreadsAnd flag out of internal windsOf apacket data of lifesquirmed into netted bag The air takes alead in the houseAnd flies again within cornersWhile eyelets lights pagesAnd zoom maps of the curved imageOf the butterfly of the colored house If gazes were alittle more keptIn the house, the beauty remainsAs lives smoke winds of the lightIn the house of crossing rivers of lifeIn the scents of a butterfly Paul Mwenelupembe


By And Low By and low by and lowThe city of Blantyre and RomeWhen the whistle blow and boundThe noisy killer the noisy waver grindBy and low swift the wind helloSprout amid the nisy killoBy and low, low, lowTill the stars twinkle and twinkleThere comes meteors reak the giggle Paul Mwenelupembe


Darkness In The Hug A long way to go, in the darknessFrom the rose tree, a glass on the windowHad the story engraved on the seatTake me home, if this was a trip to the dark agesIt has to tell within your head, to this treeRoses adorned in darkness for if there was a lightThe black out had to grab within your leachAnd invite a hug to my way home Paul Mwenelupembe


Darling She slips through the gatePolished in aroma from the Getto A world tends to be the sun shinningThe eyesore by abated breath Bi-mouth clears,Its throatAnd voice, craves one's eyecalling aside Eyes sythesise aviable storyLike a sustainable devep't treadA trend so far as she passesOver the love land Telepathically she comesAnd turns her gorgeous faceAwide rim of impulsesPush asurge across that bossom Adash of thoughtsCollage in one room,the heart beatsUpon another scrumble Then aword commencesWith asmile in the faceAs she swims in the sunon the beach It goes, surfing and loadsUntil she turns with acall;Darling, bye Paul Mwenelupembe


Deciphers Deliver all that you haveYou members of the house to beRemove and mute their minds with hazeDribble all over a snake likeBuy time and target them in hikesBut ordinary ones are deciphers Decadence and politeness they seeA hooked fish, regurgitate the cud,those declarationsThey rise above the mountain of choicesIn this season of evergreen changeIn this evergreen land, wrapped in decency Decade afar from your reachAnd decibel your voice of featured outfitsWhile that house of commons is deeped in no debrisPolitical deciphers, too in total blissAnd their vote, veto is final case Paul Mwenelupembe


Do I Need The Pen Do I need the pen to writeDeep is a dropp of a story insideLike water that waters the gardenso then green is restored Do I need the pen to sellBy going around and come backWith overhead are the pumpkinsthat makes my day run go Do I need the pen to reluxThat fills my hope of momentsThat files my days of the youthOn the timeline it goes Do I need the pen to saythe little calabash witha cool well behind the cupThat soothes inward the soulAnd stops in a big full stop Paul Mwenelupembe


Double Eyeing Unsatisfied, eyeing at two courses or soA usual sitting on the fencePrickle inside for the next prodding of dilemma Pro digging in oneselfAwaiting more of the otherAnd grabbing silently,The double eyes! If I would have such colours, blue, red.....Three of the more sets, and think deeply of how to win these nodal appartmentCrumbling facades in them buitNext flip in the cornerIf I had that!The double eyeing's dilemma song Paul Mwenelupembe


Earthquake Tears, The Spirit Cried Kayelekela was born in Karonga district of uranium unisonIt is like Sapitwa spirits that live there in hard bones unitTwo main spirits, husband and wife, dwelled in that spectrumThe compound of all spirits in the curved spurs of holy sputumWhen the female spirit slept in Kayelekela tunnel bombThe uranium deadly weapon, the body of queen was bookedThe husband's cry materialised underground ridges from the lakeIt circled in the air, circled on the land and curled breaths and bakedSo mainy lives and facades went to the unbearable homes of clayBut the sovereign king came to candle down the bestiality preyUp the spirit showed to woman in the garden of green leavesFoliage of Chinkhundya household expected to be a mouth weavedAnd instead the husband took the message to the chief KarongaAnd he promised the best stem stake with women ahead of omegaIts purpose was not uphold her breathing for goodIts delegation was to denounce the turmoil to ruler's gogglesSo they assembled sorry books of nine cattle to himUp they squeezed themselves in shush to Chipili's cry beamIt shrugged the offer of far fetched with just a headshakeBut with twelve horns, twelve heads and the spirit's tail of shameIt roared again, and circled the wind, circled the land several hoursBut some breaths went in the sea on a grandeur scale rumoursAs it moved in cracks burying graves from the lake of bedsIt accepted the proffer received from the crew specially madeWhen the chiefs of the district reassembled reassurance tumorWith white chickens and cattle, ahead was awomanThe Chipili's cry accepted the bit with just a nodeAnd those Karongan chiefs went back in the same boardBut with those tears we remember our spirit ever the restWhile scientists wrapped us in cold wings of phony factsWe remain in stooped position while our souls are dampAnd let their souls and ever more rest in peace of dam Paul Mwenelupembe


Everything In The Loo! These things, these thingssettling and settling in the heartAssemble weapons and pat on the ratAnd settling and settling as soldiers unto warAnd the heart of owner, the king and the warriorThey come and come as to mall and flip and gallopFilling such body of organs and mop and swapHappily and swagger, they creep as to war and growPoor soldiers, poor soldiers marching as to war and wrathAnd that hand simply and simply gets frail and paleAnd the commando laughs and blues to kill and peelFinished yeah, finished while the owner comes and consoledFinished yeah, finished fighters applaud on a such commandoWhile the owner comes and consoled and consoled unto callThe sun then glares and glares, the night unto fallThe words roar and roar and roar from above loveAnd it comes and says, everything in the loo!And everything burns, scorched and goes and goes unto coalThen the heart stands and stands, resuming from dawnAnd smeared and smeared now and again with fire flameThe words, cool and squint and die at raysThis is IAM from the rest and rest I exist, such wordsThen the words is God for real and distroyer Paul Mwenelupembe


Face, Winter Face Face, my winter face, if it was not along with meI would dry for the next rhythmReborn and vanquished I becomeIf it was in the maize field of little faithThe youth stage of the river I swum and swumSo soothed my soul recovered the twineMy face, I gulped, drawned and smoked my freshIf the earth was reversed,my school days crying for a slashRattled like formaica I my skin sawThat was me, tis reborn to crawl and sewNow the winter face, welcome in toothed styleLeaving the store of my shooting youth smileBut what bothers me, bothers meThe winter face has arrived with a dried river-faintComes to dress me the thorny hill-tentThe fresh and strongly bolded buries me in the soilsBuries me in deep soils of superstition and witchcraftYou wizard! You witch!A handful names down my soulAnd throw heavy stones in my heartSo frail I, then send the youth to unknown journeyWhy not let them cover the root with loveThen choose face to smile a journey in joyThen, face, my winter face on my headHeavily remorse then face dwells in the houseWhile waiting for a sunset benearth my winter faceSo tis face, winter face I smellAnd rest a walk like an old lizard Paul Mwenelupembe


Falling Into Lips On the time line the sky clearsMerry, merry it does in the landMemories of the spider web criesFalling snows in paved isles rainIsles of water way in merry, merry Broom are tit birds in redsThey sing merry, merry messegesRestless whisles stand in seed bedsFalling like water drops are messengersFootprints re-echoe and jump in merry, merry Will the garden accept one treeThat merry, merry will hold the soundsIn the planted sheet orchard are the clipsIn the merry, merry lips builds are foundThe stars of carefreeness in the garden Will the birds allow to go through the cliffThat the seated nature will overcome the greedAnd hear the golded bells of lipsAnd fall into eternal peace within brimsUnder the sweet berry of natured spurs Paul Mwenelupembe


Forcing The Window To Flow At the window, rain drivesDrizzles and drizzles glow and goPushing and loosing the window to and froAnd some-one asked, who is at the window?Pushing and pulling the window and dash? In the dark of the night free and rollGoing for the next fresh candle of the dayAt the window a hand goes and more,Who is at the window?She cried and roared the mallAnd forced the window and banged and go. Paul Mwenelupembe


From Lifeless To Crisp Life is a journey of lifeless to crispWhen it gets cracked and lost its gripIt dangles and hisses which is a sign of bloodIt then travels to reach its node and degeneratesOn the road of lifeless to crisp and scarlet triumph Life is a real journey of eternity to lifelessWhen it gets smoothed and attains its touchIt sways and resists its carelessnessIt attains its outer space of torchOn the electronic transfer and loss So being a journey of lifeless to crispIt breathes out and accelerates byIt then gets stuck and catch up by algae cripThe master dye producer gives out multicolor dyeUpon which it sped beforeand changed the gravity Paul Mwenelupembe


From Motherland From motherland, lands a spring of riversThat gushes out radio waves ontopAnd descends down stream with cool waterThat feeds our motherlandLook at her meanders, she sneaks into the green landAnd sniffes Canaan of todayThe head of all lands in her and stands firm in deep sea as a rockShe is an eagle but alionessThat roars on the feet of Mount ZionAnd drives our hospitality, our landAs she dives out of the best African potFrom motherland she lies in her greenage Paul Mwenelupembe


Gideon Valley In the Gideon valley I grew up, crawled with scarsI was drowned ten times when I was a young stratum starThe stream in between I swum when it was winter usual crestPerfectly the home of baobab trees, songs of baboons' seasons' lakeThe land was born and discovered from nose of rose heartsSuch a tall man went bare footed to clear the air stripe hectaresSuch atall feet entangled in sands, strong path he bestowed factsThe gradpa rocked on to save many coming lives of stones of funksMy grandma argued the sprit of huts and perched on the air fieldAfterthe lion slept afew days of years of a fallen fluidMy wrinkled mama retained that air stripe of cereals, corns' rollI limped with her and sped the days like bites and nails mollMy young age, of teens, of rays on railings trail gravesMy school life, gripped me and moved on grey matter's grooveAnd the Gideon leader called often with marker's gradesBut I always sung my song of natty gritty day long dredgesI paid the debt spent in vain of widened mighty drawn attacksI found the ruler of Ngara primary rock and rolled dead anarchiesWhile the grandma laughed at me in joyI salute the Gideon Valley of bumper yield glory Paul Mwenelupembe


God Can Re-Write My Days God can rewrite my daysFar from over seas is my rakePushing all the dirt to the dust beanIs my candle day light to shine upon Look at me look at meLying in a tent of wealthUp the mountain of pineOf cool weather in my flooded landThe best of I AM away is my home From the mountain top, is meWriting my history are wishesOver writing my page to the next pointOf my nation here in the Idle landIn the wanderland of wealthIn the best hand of I AM Paul Mwenelupembe


Grandpa's Song Behind life is so amazing, so coolWay back grandpa breathed in gravesHe took a river more to mount successBut one horn spoke to the west and rang in mutinyThe brain brave wave stormed, he reborn Traveled on foot lots of miles by himAnd remained a total new seed, so bad!The migrated labour touched he the pageZambia, why Zambia did that to him? But by the river flow, he vowed never step back hillsAnd reface that coastal verge, the east landBut his pa, this friend of herbs he did the loveAnd went to motherland a thousands timesAnd married to Sophie Gondwe, the proposed bird He was a tower, black of that coal in her skinBut fair was his heart in her to rememberHe got that animal with her and filled himThat was his brawny, ahead were more hearts will A polygamist with such shooting seeds' housesHe could, from hearts dance he went inThe igneous rock of Zambian aborted stylesAnd chief of mines, copper belt legend police Chief of graveyards, and paid well to his wifesMaster field mashier of beer In Lusaka cityBeer in desperations after hard workHe saw a black eye in his green forgotten endAnd wrote his song of pity peace if in deepen 'Come to me, come to meCome to me you an orphan'His rays of song lines to sing on The better way in life was beer's trials footballAnd washed his beheaded green age of miseries


My polygramist laid down foundation stonesHe begun with nyagondwe, the first lifeNext Nyauhango the assister of the queenThen Nyaukandawire the enforceable butterflyThen he perched at a blossom,Nyamwayi lovable tour de force He was true nonsense warrior but lover of loveAnd really A friend of deepest songsThat reminds me of his bravely long forsaken He later plucked the leaf off to motherland of soloHe locked in his wonderful song with his final birdShe was certain, his paint for good realAfter his first, second, third dance broken pottery I treasure his life and take to heals of my skull boneI lived in his grandson bag, the second born childFrom his third born daughter, Emily I smiledAnd from first couple of him,Unforgettable motherhood queen Paul Mwenelupembe


Grimace Of Pain Our country needs to be sworn tooJust like us, it fixes well in clothesSuch green patterns is a beauty poolUntil it swallows its bronze statue of roseAnd makes its days sparkle and special In a gramance of pain we see on it todayToday we see its clothes being blown awayThe nice colour for our nation loses its gripThe ever green land in the city of roseWhile its electricity gradually dies down Our ancestors used to hunt in this homeThis very home that was in its full cupAnd kicked a laugh to the history of menTheir foods adorned in trees on a mapAnd great medicine they had near bones Moments really change, look today!We see black stuffs along the roadWe see bundles of dead things yonderBut no proper allow to govern the offenderThe freedom based at flipped land? Now that is the grimace of pain we seeWe see the land that yawns in plain seaSuch fissures observed on an empty scaleSuch a laugh scales with sharp nailsThe great yawns ever seen! But if you see at what rain is doingIt sweeps and wipes our motherland to the seaIt smiles and percolates without real bankingAnd the best hand turns into wrinkled facesThe great yawns ever seen! Let's cloth and love it to protect our soilsThese fertile soils of motherland are under threatLet's protect ourselves from floods


The natural disters of this wonderful nationAnd remove the grimace of pain we see Paul Mwenelupembe


Happiness Is Not Mandatory When happiness comesEverything remains calm and peacefulYou forget the movement of the earthspinning around the sunHigh revolutionAround the orbit On this planetHappiness is not mandatorySometimes it bringsHappy days and happier timesAnd we delight in pastures greenUpon which rains falls and vanishesAs seasons change But when happiness disappearsWhen heaarts are brokenLike apot of cold water on hot summer's dayWe stand dejected, unwantedAnd we know, in the hearts of our heartsThat on this planetHappiness is not mandatory Paul Mwenelupembe


Hate All life of hatelife of great lake of tearsand desperation of lateShe showed up and faced fears She saw sunlightBut in it there was hatefrom the roots, only one rootthe mama litto, mamashe called on breast feed, nana And then she missed it,the breast went abroad of mistsAnd that's the focus of debtthe focus of hata list Look, only two souls, and threeOnly two great souls were closeHerself, into marriage of beasts,She thought there was summer hutSummer hut indeed! Beasts of deaths? Mama litto and mama,What a heart! Then she died of hateNo hospital she died on her sick bedThis pendemic, this disease, this AIDS, this HIVSo it brought hate in mama LittoAnd turned her into abag of bones And hate from mama Littoforced my mama to the sunsetwith new born daughterclose, close, closeShe was alive And then hateShe finally kissed the soilTo mama Litto she left her daughter,but she followed later


She was my bloodand last one And hate, hateShe died of hatewhile the left seedsmonger in her remembrance Paul Mwenelupembe


Hear The Cries Tingle, tingle, tingle like a gongPlunging into us all the blades at lengthDealing with us recklesslyWhile your chisels are doing their song The day never pass without rolling tearsMourning for our lost dearsAnd our friend, and our mother tooGrieves over its tots death tollWhile she is left un protected by our strength We survivors arise to plead youWe are unable to maintain our dutiesBecause our pools and us are fewWe are your life, we are your sieveWhile we cook our food under siege Please save, save usStop tingling on us and replant as moreWe will remain good for you and our mother soilOur pools shall fill the pond in our shadeWhile we provide our nice shadow If we sit and think about youYou do things in favour of yourselfWe observe no raw to cover usIllicit charcoal burning obsess themDealing with us so fastWhile our dead relatives being laid by lain Paul Mwenelupembe


I Am The Street Kid I am the street kidHere in the street is my homeIt was just a slosh not by chanceI had a star shade beforeWhere I could rest on, my bed But this went inside a snatchYes, this AIDS king of the worldI don't know its works so farBut what I know isIt slaughtered my shade Now here I am, the neglectedEven my lineage has refused meAnd took away all the cityThat was served for the familyAnd left the outcast here alone So here I am in wastelandThe ran away from heavy rainsSlided away on the same route by footAnd found a cosy shadeYes, here in the street I beg crowds, 'Just a coin! 'Eaten in clouds of rottten binsI take my bed under this bridgeYes, here in the street Others of adults try to strike awayThey persuade me, persaude meThese world pretenders of adoptionsAnd adopt this infused childSuch is me and sale abroadYes, here in the street So I cry out if ever my shade was aliveIf ever had it known this playIf ever I was out of this storm


I could smile, laugh and die at hopeThis hope built in me of lifeYes, here in the street Paul Mwenelupembe


I Lay My Care Do you have a chance at themA chance for a peep at animalsJust a glance in the land of animal loveAs I do, I lay my care at themIn this house of dogs, birds, cattle and em goats........ Do you have a chance at themA chance for their healthAs I do, I lay my care at themIn the garden of love they eat When sun rises to the eastI become a doctor, amother, a fatherTo them I am their loved godAnd smile at my meatsAnd I smile at my protectors, my allAnd I lay my endless care Paul Mwenelupembe


I Need My Stuff Back On the preacher's day holy preachingUnder and below clay was sent emOn the forceful whips of lowly meetingThe soul taker will never accept emOn the bulge of mercies, and the crowdThe know it all grabber took to heels emOn the side of lowly souls went loudThe friend of fire proclaimed a fail emAnd the lord most high, comes, comes and drive themThe heaven lifter won't cath asingle ship emAnd the straw remains blessed for ever beamWhile he is commanded, I need my stuff back!And I receive it! I receive it! I receive it!And the liar, blantant big liar, I receive it!And he never swindles and swindles emThe lord most high assembles wholly, holy fire on themThe real shepherd, the messiah's love emWhile he is commanded, I need my stuff back! Paul Mwenelupembe


I Was There The country descended to ragesThe people geared in a gallant smile of fingersWhile the mountain on topWas sending radio massagesOf rocks down the doorway I was there when I saw a cloudCovering the stirred terra firma of a crowned SalmonPeace! Liberty! While lakes filled with hot waterTampering the great multitude down walkers I was there when I saw an impious regimeThat system was collected with over driftsWith beauty and happiness when sun hand risenThen it sunk into fallible pieces of embargoSuccumbed, reaaly disturbed in forgone I saw the economy traveling down stairsThe forex, my fonex wing for another residenceGasoline, fuel....unfilled cars cruising on a queue bone I saw the country besieged by lootersSpoiling shops, banks our own facadesI saw there when I heard the Reader of the warm heartThe ruler displaying peace, negotiator's funcy lectureThe other day he came with other scenes I was there when I saw a group of carcassAbsolute victims of democracy displayed my scenesMy body felt that death toll and reserved in my bookI will never forget now and forever peace! Paul Mwenelupembe


If It Is Really A Curse If it is really a curseThat mounts temp's on highIf curses were horsesThat nourishes the large messThe it's an accident in the house If it is really a curseThat circulates mid air collusionsIf a curse is a dose of springsThat dances its brightnessThen it's a battle field If it is really a curseThat enriches down turnIf it is really a curseThat breaks the potsThen it's a fire that scorches Paul Mwenelupembe


If You Are In Between If you are in between, in between is a riverAnd two courses will lead you towards your eyesA magnet, a pull of the earth between forcesIt will attract you to the epicenter And if love was a shared straw, shared is the sunThat one would die for in the sandy land lightAnd faithless journey accounts on footDescending the mountain of green smile If you are in between, in between is a saddleThe minor stand to peg on and offAnd what happens then to the soulAnd ride on the wasted timelineOf photos, offshore the neck becomes Paul Mwenelupembe


In Morning Breeze A special day peepsIn amorning breezeCoated with dewsLike Iron in zincIt has such scary dishContained in a fury goldIs awide rim My energy piercingcoulds and goes upScorching stranger,In the premiseof the earthAnd gittering goldOverlap the deed There it goes, high in the skyand the present breezenever cut mr energy manThe loser, my breeze Paul Mwenelupembe


In The Dying Moments Ten of thousands assemble aheadShouting for their rights on bedsIn the dying moments she emergesRounding and pounding their lipsIn the dying moments she cries Will her greenage be restored?So hetrage she carries over headIn her dying moments she smileswhile tears are oozing on her woundIn her dying moments their rights are brokenAnd her future remains prominentAnd so blink she comes with her arms Paul Mwenelupembe


In Those Days In those days, forefathers daysThose days, our mother was Victoria, agreen queenShe carried baskets of hope on its back ringLaughing and chanting extreme songsLeveling such lives ontop of the banquet In those days, our queen's daysThose days, when our mother underscored white grapesChildren carried baskets of tearsFighting for freedom, up thereof self ruleInevitable change so desirablebraced in fearsResistible they turned, blazedwith hot termsAnd overcame their staring strengths In those days, nyasarodesia's daysThose days were days of our fore fathersUnder came the absolute life rulePreaising, bending down tributesof bulgePraising the heaven ruler of endless giftsThe great events we learn, on long pages Now such were days, over they areAs we trod so hard and perchedat democracyOur rights ruler over the frozen kingOn the brown glue that embraces usSweet events are learned on long pages Paul Mwenelupembe


Innovative Spider Pakala-pakala a sound of Spider at workTaking that and cross overTangling its legs for realParking skillfully and jet pass fill Lende-lende a dangle like waterfallEmitting magma strings as cotton woolMaking itself a paper weight in the skyTravelling that way Penda-penda a quake to build minesDiving up steel from its hillThat great trap created by the linerBut how speeding it flows! There, breaking, uncompleted routesThis weaver, supernatural threads binderIs our model modernity cruise Paul Mwenelupembe


Inside Zomba White City Of Memories Running, several miles to the cityCloser, a yearning rain, drizzles on your windscreenAnd have a peaceful welcome into the citySuch a cold page down the upland, sees youIs ready, laid to have us all, we strangersWhere are we going? To the eastern regionTo bring joy to Chitekesa inside phalombe's eyesBe, we will have the city, this ancient legendWe all smile as we eat inside Zomba pine paladeIt will prepare you a bed of dreams of rosesYou Surveyors, tourists and wipe all your tears,down the mountainInside Zomba white city of memories Paul Mwenelupembe


Invest In Eternal Account An account of now and foreverIs set by being washed forgoneAnd live your sins behind curvetureAnd be called the new born creatureImmersed in a deep golden name The account amount of eternal peaceThat glows innermost and benearth his nameHe is the son of man, in him he lovesThe king of wonders in between he stands The account of eternal love overflowsIn him is the cool well of doveCome it says, drink its waters of lifeAnd be dressed in his graceThat falls like hailstorm rainFrom the convenant keeping God Invest in the eternal accountAnd nothing shall siege the heartPraise his name for his miraclesGlory, glory he takes the shapeIn the spirit being, the mankind of his If he is loved, he comes like a stormAnd the grain in its story in the cageLaying in his eternal eternal account Paul Mwenelupembe


Is This Love I Thought Of? Bruised, mocked and finished, the day wasBrocken and wily I lied on the palm matAt the climax disease deadly infusedThis alittle child and carried another burden?The loving man, like a king birds he wasAnd formally he and she name was roseLeaking the skyline he belched and smearedThen behind he staggered and I with hoes overheadDown the stream teenager, along motherhoodLeft opener of minds at fourneen, I did to loveIf love was aman, is this love I thought of?There coming from mapped soils achild and the burdened aheadThe way home we trod with him rat- tut- rockersQuick! Quick! The animal could say and sped the markerBut with a burden then I took such a chameleon styleThe hungry leopard, the bully lion grabbed and roaredAs a mother resisted and in the lake of blood I washed my clothesSo is this love I thought of? Paul Mwenelupembe


It Drives Me Nut Farmers are the friends of rains and mudWhen rains say, 'nay' farmers reply, 'here we areHere we are with our sharpen teethWe turn soils and our enemy hunger blade' So farmers struggle and hug the stormsAnd crops reply, here we're, tooThe sweats you produced, welcome gee!We want to feed up huge birds' So it drives me nut when I see farmers out cryRolling and dying for proper marketsBy selling their stuff at a tower gage So it drives me nut when I hear their wallTheir call on better wall coins and toolsThey want to be scholarly in flocksBy selling them at hike pennes So it drives me nut when I hear silos' oldAre old doves tanks to keep the salt and oil?They want morden stomacks to swallow the deadBy selling them at alower gauge Put in your room these economic jungles mastersOur economic engines of this mother earthAnd change over night to see sunAnd agrarians outstanding agrarians sing and dance Paul Mwenelupembe


It Shall Come To Pass Whirlwind is on the lake, wheeled, blowing on the lakeSun fumbles in the clouds, fumbling from the eastLights glare, flaring bright under the raked soilsAnd a son of man sings, singing aglamorous feastAsong list, sighing, listing from the eastern sky It shall come to pass, come to pass on the windAnd rock in, rock in like a washed plateFor in the blood, in the blood oozed on the crossClean is the heart, the heart and the planetWithin the sorrowful cold, sorrowful cold and hot blowing The holy word speeds, speeding in the freshOn the words, words of life and mankindNeeds a flip, aflip so hard and create aholy racesTo the author, are the eyes, so hardHe opens, opening the room of hope and charity As the son, the song submerge and upslideIt shall come to pass, apassover ever the voiceGlory and glorified the name of the wordPrompts, prompting the heart, sucking in rejoiceAnd stare, staring up, the clouds and that! It shall come to pass a passover touching the heartAnd sing to me, to you, holy surrounding our heartsO' please come, to keep me, you, safe and saferAnd He says, come, come, there is aroom and shelterI will make, make it come to pass on the surface Paul Mwenelupembe


It Wasn'T Easy I took the blanket with my footAnd ate the cold star by schoesIt smelt hell. That gear of hope in his faceI hit and hit it was my toneTwo miles ahead with the bridgeThat gear of hope in his faceSplit the waterway amillion of gravesBut I crept courage and produced the anchorAnd remained still. Crossed, crossed the soul,while dripping red ink, that fool tortureMy effort! I crossed the king now; I will lookO! It wasn't easy Paul Mwenelupembe


Just A Smile At this hour of the dayAt this lunch hour of loveUnder the enclosed earth of happinessWe have this life of romanceJust to hold breath togetherJust you and me, only you can make of meMy happiness lies only on your smileAnd have this smile of mineAt this hour of the day Paul Mwenelupembe


Just In Arms Of Sorrow The mighty of truth, the holy king of lightO’ my beautiful sea, my sun in JerusalemSpeaks of glory of this day of tearsUnforgotten silence of just being in armsWhile the lord spoke the truth from the night I will never cease the planted gardenBeing taken away, the green land of roseO’ my king of Israel, spare me with an arrowBring victory to the east, O' just being in arms,My life seek, to my God I said by herJust in arms of sorrow, we died by the sea of roses Paul Mwenelupembe


Lake Malawi Lake, oh fresh lake of rivulets in-land seaResonnates screeds as it grabs this lift valleyAnd sails a sailing sailors of clouds to the warmheartThey are seen meteors, a mirror of marine giantsIt will life a charm, charming up these resins Lake, oh fresh lake of revulets in-land seaRecipes for layouts of chambo resurrecting fishTo the east are the transmitted waves into skyAnd refurbishes a play grounds of warmheartWith sing birds walking in three colours Lake, oh fresh lake of revulets in-land seaIs an oilment to beaming hopeTo the south it ties its face and recedes cafesAnd remits resins of still warmheartsAs it dissolves centrifugal forces in-land sea Lake, oh fresh lake of revulets in-land seaDown is yet gas cage, vehicles are such feedsAnd leave out a calabash of the warmheartIn riches is Africa, Malawi's reigns of all lakes Paul Mwenelupembe


Life Is More Like Survival Only life is more like survivalA canoe sailor of slovenly non revival saidA river spaced as it milks its decreeAnd a brick wall sentiments to sleep on degrees Like our lord survived and revivedAnd then devine victory marveledAnd He passed ropes and chains of tosserSingly slumbered not in the same grave Faith, only if faith is the answer in the sea of lightWhile dipped and dipped in the mouth of the harderAnd struggled with this war of woundsUnder scores and averages the soul excelsThe life of survival of pixels in the land Only Life is more like survivalConcedes the maker of maudivelThe vegetation of a glittered creationEverything for the actual length of grievation God stands crowdly there to spill up loveAnd sees the survivors crying aboveAnd gushes out a super victoryVindicating upon peace and fightOnly in the life of survival of memoriesIn the wilderness of animals of tights Life is only more like survivalAnd the little salt into solvent upon praises of sucrificeThe Only temple is holy amendsDriven as conquers, tossed unto God's glory. Paul Mwenelupembe


Like A Slave All those cold nightsAll those hot daysAll those windy circles The son of man persevered All those thirsty hoursAll those hungry momentsAll those angry morningsAll those darkly evenings A son of man encountered All those mountain rangesAll thos steep valleysAll those prime plateau A son of man climbed All those peril H'H headsAll those stony roadsAll those bushy roots A son of man passed through And when the pain got sourThe river could shine over timeAnd when good work prevailed The outstanding success unveiled Paul Mwenelupembe


Love Comes Softly Rains are to sow and good times to loveBuilt on soils rich of grave landSuch a valley long way to go, it comes softlyFrom that dead land, a place of livingTo a loving land limits by the spring So hard to shoot the routing starA seed of peace into roots and leavesComes slowly in the stream sandIn the rivulets valleys, slops of GodGoing deep in loam soiled handDown the rivers slowly it comes The invisible altar is meant for potteryAs God provides the step of ridged loveFalling from the sky of loveSo love comes softly If gentle hearts fall in a pit of loveSo easily they fall like red leavesOn God’s plans were made the bestAnd urge you run for a loved oneOn love comes softly And outer mountain is a carrierYou will stop it and find the stolen heartAnd plead it to stay by your feetAnd say I should stayI stay because I love youIn the sunshine love comes softly Paul Mwenelupembe


Lulomo Peninsula The wispy sun, slits of fumbleslanded at Lulomo Half ways often it pierced nearbelow the waterAnd stones, rocks whitely spreadsnow falling into winter And whirl dance, mid air, circlingover the half prairieLong eaves catapulted along thebrown Chilumba bayAnd the mouth erodes, pointinginto summer falling clay And only Lulomo doodling coldlysettled served sipsSuch apeninsula reading downthe curled wintry spills And the Chilumba pen inventedthat close coastAnd the jetty stained the waterclearly redAnd, by the way, she falls intosmiling lips Paul Mwenelupembe


Mama Africa A supper star burns from the leastIt quakes venerable hope for the haste,beckoning the best greenage storeyIn the deemed mama Africa unfold storiesthat bake excellent bread till gayIt slides pretty well to fill the days'just forget about what you aretake my words for it uh! Uh! 'That laughter dwells within mamaThat clear smile smells foktalesIts fore going size stamps foretells,Tickling souls all over beautyMama Africa, apromise on the dock Paul Mwenelupembe


Mulanje Mountain The flavour of mount Mulanje grinsIn the thick of low clouds it gripsThe palace of peace wrapped in sighing loveWhile species of birds, fly in amazing gaze And up the thickest sleeps the king of the game parkAs the spirits welcome new comers at such traditional tableThat table of flavoured soupThat sinks in the touring levelThe mother's love that hissesThe great ancestral home There, Sapitwa wears on a frozen domeand comes out like a cursed torsothat leads height of the timeabove nobody's reach Here mysteries of the landhide and settleAs it provides unit scorees of running nosesThe spirit drink and danceAdorned in odd shaddows of humanity Mountain of hope to run ancestory lifeIn the midst of our political rifeFor we are no more ignorant ofyour kingdomThat elevation of hopeof pride Paul Mwenelupembe


My Angel Speachless at the stage, speachlessAs the bench is on soundless sitEyes are on a talk, strange talkAs if I was in vala' garden of red A driver of eyes was at all anglesBut was bumped into a summer cageWas this a ball, eye ball in a goal netThat flooded a triumph vala red gate A bright red face is on the gateOver there is red carpet, this faceAnd then eyes, red eyes collidedThis is a first sight meet Said I The angel of my heart, is red heartAnd picked red lips smile, spread it, spread it to meWith a freshly red paint, I paintedAnd walk undisappearing heart red Such a wonderful moment of such dayBut was a solemn in natureFor situations went mixing in airLike a clear solutionin the solvent of an eye So is my angel going to lift upThat would fly that red heart againAs she scrambles over itDue to a far reach of my handAnd she made herself last inside Tires, if tires were not fastenedBut then fastened my heart of redThat flew wobbling, wobbling her handsIn the air that wave at meThey went like a tree, red tree garden Quit breaking, breaking in I didAs vehicle of red covered with bread


And simple my heart went wider deepWith my hands upRaising them for my angelAnd she is invisible in the garden of red Paul Mwenelupembe


My Box At Lunch Tree Babe, take me to the lunch treeAnd hear my golden stories of mid melodiesHave you heard me insideHave you taken the lunch box flameHere I come to take my thingsMy rose at lunch tree Paul Mwenelupembe


My Day Soon my day has goneWith my moon I went over itspining around the sunof the dayMmmh....I loved my date Paul Mwenelupembe


My Head Revolves across the worldAs aspinning wordIn its orbitWith adiscovery at largeLike around aboutUntil it completesAll its seasons of the year Odd ideas are storedwith aremarkable storeroom,The computer of my focusWhich focuses aheadlike allay of lightsglaring bright Odd brain waves are storedIn aliving roomWhich stimulatesaremembrance Oh! That doleful day,That great joyOf my birth daymove of the year! Mmm...aslight laughpenetrates in a strangeand amusing wayre-stored in my head Paul Mwenelupembe


My Journey Up Hill My journey up hill I go up the hillHere Iam here I come the son of manSlow meanders I climb the mountainOh, this tower is very tallHa, here Iam resting more Here I am; here I come the son of manSlow step I biting the sand of lifeOh, the short falls are sands heapHa, here I am renamed ray Here I am, here I come the son of manGradually Lay I on a course of actionsUp hill, oh the route seems bumpyHa, here I am dribbling My journey up hill, I go up hillHere I am, here I come the son of manSo desperate is the lion lashOh, tears roll up hill, un criedHa! Ha! Here I am cheering uptop Paul Mwenelupembe


Natural Mirror That is a mirror, anatural mirrorThat stands ahead of ahuman rearDisplaying such miraculous versions If a human being sees on itAmazements are followersIs that a how question?As it intervenes withatmost gustoLike a blue colourIn the ear of athingStinging very hard Mmm...hah! Why?Discouragement bends downDisfloating that dazzling lookAnd eyes.. mmmh... Piercing through Now it turns a whiteThe other side of a pageIndeed, a romantic versionThe mirror displays. Paul Mwenelupembe


Ngara Fishing Ground From Ngara fishing ground emits the fish of sweetsBliss of peace embodied in the best God's eyesSeated curvedly coats, the fish blossoming swifts kissesA mother of swift's variety shows imposed by the author's icesMud of hospitable wells, well vested in the giggling landOn top of the tree sighs ADMARC and air circles the monsterPropeller of funs and only poet fully embraced in her handWhile down the roots, rests the colorful coves of bay's roasterGruesome birds swimming in the fresh seashesAnd assembles lodges, pots of green, supper natural Ngara's loveThe fishing ground of blue breeze mesmerizing fishing cellsEminent emerald of Ngara Empire, in the mother nature's doveThe hottest ceramic, humid welcome, plays its role like englishStifling springs of warmer mists and coolness a smile layThe key of Karongan coasts, the rich mother Ngara with fishThe poly star coastal basis with mother nature's clay Paul Mwenelupembe


Nyagondwe The Grandma Nyagondwe the grandmaFar from the out of reachShe brings offspringson the carpet Generated from the coastal vergeThe land of blessingsUnpackedSeven! She saysBut two are friendsof the earthWithout acall and vanish Born of wealth, with herhusband leavingDown stares, wavingGoing to reassure friendsof the earth Solute encounters her wayAstrong bond is superficiallylaidAt long lengthBut happy occupies herchickShe has little branchesThat removes the blazing fireIn her soul Paul Mwenelupembe


Ode Of Mother Mphizi Oh, sons of Mphizi and daughtersClose to your mother you areMopping and cleaning your landO' great ancenstral bath tabVomiting your basin of steam Just a couple of miles from the tarmacGoing down the rocky strip of marksBear, ontop of the tree aroundOnly the journey smilesO'great mother of summerland You come from the spring headso hot, slipping down the cold seaSwash, swash and back swashMalawi lake receives your handOh, mother of the blessed land Agentle warm bath from your natureUnderground is your rootAnd with this ready made bathYou prepare to yuor children, adesireOh, gread sons of mphizi and daughtersSniff your mopping and cleaning on the land Oh, great mother of hotspringsSettled along time agoTo absorb birds in the gardenAs sun rises, grows and dieEvery day you bring happinessIn the inseperable china of mother Mphizi Paul Mwenelupembe


Oh! There You'Re At Last Oh! There you're at lastI sing when I remember about our pastThat was the time I was heart drivenWhen I was searching for you, my blossom CHORUS'O' there you're at lastI sing when I slid in our pastThat was when I was searchingFor you, my true hearken shearth' This is new to meI suffer strange diseaseThe disease of hym love And I sing about youYou're so bright, sparkling, sparklingThat you tend to be part of theeblazing knifeBreaking my heart apart I sing this song as I roll in moodsWhen you're awayO' this is extreme newI need you my sweet heartI look for you as my final kissOf a big hole lying last at the bottomOf a lake of tearsUncried When you deliberately seperate yourselfAll from me is lonelyThen I keep searching and ask my selfMany unsual questions When do you think I will go?O' darlingOh, babbie you mean great to meAnd then I try to seek you


You're not lost There you're at lastI sing of you when you're foundMy eyes becoming dry againWhile my soul overflows with joyO' babbie I love youI love thy name Paul Mwenelupembe


Our Chikangawa Forest Our green sea, our Chikangawa forestHow beautiful you are in our eyesLike our precious stone you glitterfrom aboveYou are our hope in our frozen heartsBut where are you heading to? From northern star but to the southYou stretch your handFrom eastern Nyasa but to the west is your headFrom up and shine is araybroadcasting words of arch smiles Our Kamuzu dreamt about youAnd walked over your grin soilsYes, he planted you, ChikangawaOur man made queen caressed in greenBut where are you heading to? Our rock today and tomorrowOur source of rain now and next dayOur medicine today and near the futureOur only man made gavalnised in AfricaAnd slide in as asingle pine paradeBut where are you heading to? But solely you are in sweeping windsOver you it blows and goesOn your leg cancer has engulfedYes, is our hatrege stinging you?We hate you now, our flower of AfricaWe hate your roles, and plung into your freshBut where are you heading to? Our man made green are you afraid, afraid of climate change?To the right leg the bruises are seenAs we reduce you to some agesBut where are you heading to?


O' no! We need you the moreWe need you for timberWe need you for paparworkAnd build us with the eastern skyO' yes, tie us while you are still aliveBut where are you heading to? Are you going with your dreamer manOur president, how proud we're in himand Chikangawa forest welcomed himAnd said, my author plant me, plant meBut where are you heading to? You are our pillow ever and everOur precious stone, embelded in our heartsAnd we love you for your freshnessAnd inside you, we catch our air breathWith our bliss we still stand in Central AfricaBut where are you heading to? Paul Mwenelupembe


Our Stars Inside I wouldn't leave the stars inside if I were youSuch a watchful styles mingling that way Let eyes blink at Malawian dancesThe inside stars giggling and wriggling fot daisyAnd emerge the auxiliary bait begrudge Desperately the tradition is equipped with such drumsWarming the hoods with golden countenance drugsThese innocent incentives sizzling at their baseThese stars the steps nurtured by the groaning lighteningOur only stars of the innermost exposure of mighty Our northern corridor here you are with MapenengaGiving a chance of joining the frizzling steps in constable paradeAnd beeping up with Saza, these men and whites onlyAbsorb completely your whole some and deep your lovelinessVimbuza along side this wildness may take you upTo our curled history of the innermost dam These stars inside the big dances in the middle ageThese dances, Malawian tools to way backRestored from our beginningIn the ever known dances, piercing eyes The southern stas, there, giving out their willDressed in a blue mothers' tongueAnd rise up high to feed your souls These capacious stars you can mindLearn to watch our dances before you set offOnly a visit satisfy eyes in the discovery book Paul Mwenelupembe


Out Of Africa We trod and trod only for out of AfricaWe still tread in summerWe always cry out for helpThe help of numerous African feebles We at rest squeeze and squeeze only for goldWe still squeeze ourselves to the fumesFumes of poverty by our sites of sights on boardAnd we never overcome ourselves We indeed tread and trod for a handFor out of Africa is our faceOur face of dark and red continent of bungsBut nicely and strongly made We can't stand near ourselvesOnly if well inducedAdd power to these poor mothersOur energetic mothers with children aheadThese African frameworks, these poor beings! We exceedingly tread for helpFor Africa is not for Africans' hopeYes we can states engulfed by this skyWe need to come out of these flakes We trod and trod for out of AfricaWe still tread in summerWe always flip for alittle pushPush for a support of our wholesomeFor without kings' look we are drownedAnd these heaps of feebles shall dance at us all Paul Mwenelupembe


Pass On Calls When the cock is truly booted out over snowsIt croaks, pass on the calls, so did the cockThe down graded window of the eyes's soresRetake the push, sliding on a running noseThe flue shaped its nose of rose gardenPhone calls, doubles it upon the Idol burdenAnd gummed it just the ears of the bloodAnd said, finish the old, the owed debt of abroadFinish oops! Finish and furnish the gotten senseThe cock startled, the king had saidThe school warrior on the anthillIt didn't learn that lesson point blankIt drowned along time ago, its lung full of waterIt ended, the click at heart in springs Paul Mwenelupembe


Pillars We See Gosh! I got what I had to seeWhat is this painted white leafAlong the grey road nurturing meandersFrom Thambolagwa the fly like a white cola birdInserted are those snow white fishSmall they are but with their big fathersTo Tsangano turnoff destined them to goDeadly that a passing perch of BP24This lineage they came are pillarsThe pillars of nations to go a sea Paul Mwenelupembe


Power In The Pen Such powers in inkthat gushes out linkIt inks, inks and rollThat flows on apaged floorPushing and pushingAreminder of the dayTwisting and twistingMr keep walkingDribbling and dribblingThe footballer of the yearAnd remains the sameIn memorable clothed page Paul Mwenelupembe


Respect To Wadu If respect were GodI would say respect WaduFor in the wrinkled life she livesSo life is rain shrinking insideDecaying salts and sweetsand good or bad broth If grey hairs were a queenI would say respect WaduFor she would stand to rule againFor she is the root of manySo over head are her daysCounting them with fingerslipping on and off If all grandmothers were oneI would say respect waduFor she is a grand of manySo yesterday she took them in her armsTo day is a friend of coldlipping off and on If respect were GodI would say respect WaduFor she only awaits her sunsetSo onset she comes with her huge headLonely she climbs the mountainOnly respect she needs now Paul Mwenelupembe


Rhythm Of The Day The moon is bright, so high, so coolThe sun, fumbles, gazes in the grassThe lake sparkles, smiles, in the greySmiling at each day The verse, comes from the eastThe west dangles, dances withina bawl insideRivers cropping, like spokesAnd is agrand pa Mulanje mountainAnd, to the south, Viphyawith birds, smiling Order of the day is shakingVigorous heads retakes brittle wordsWords of wisdom from all walks of lifeSmiling at the ridged land Before is a reclaim of the gardenSo, beautiful and the lake washes,washes, washes, washesWhile the doleful king points out,points out, points out so high So high, is the song, and birdsSlander and goIn the rhythm of the day Paul Mwenelupembe


Rolling On Meanders Rolling Chikhwawa a basket of waterDown the course to the plainStood still and threw a steam boat in waterRolling on meanders slovenly by gears drainBreaks, a bucket of them Rolling and boring on tiresTo and fro in white and blackIn records absorbing and dissolvingRolling and rolling, zigzag down fightZigzag up and groaning Thus it spoiledAnd grabbed the plainAnd summit again in lights Paul Mwenelupembe


Rose Tree I will run to the tree, rose treeIn total bliss, there plucking leavesI will take the sound to eastlandAnd hold that arrow of victory of such grands Paul Mwenelupembe


Rules Of Chasing Baboons If sunrises on mount Gideonon the raods, and only sandy routesStrifling on it to the baboon houseTwenty miles away from homeit grins by your foot If you are late with a minute,cereals are unretreated;Shinning to the baboos' houseAnd they shoot with aquick stepsWith their rifles clearly heldAnd cereals, cry for support There are decrees attached to themBeautifully laid down, the human lifeFor they say we grow and you careBut when such rules, scary onesBut when rules are in the autamAnd both lives are bothered All rules are good but these jangle onesEarly wake up and give support to cerealsThe greatest ever the king of Gideon saidAnd weave the nkhombiyo to hold the bulletready to fight the baboons Shout, shout and shout the decreeAll day long to awaken themWhilst the bullets are being shootOn the weaved mat, sling of stones round and roundYelling for the fight in the kingdom Build chitembe, a source of jangle homeA branket and canopy when rains laughThe main rule to grab on reasonsAnd start the spring seasonsWhile the Mwandovi king awards you greatly


Paul Mwenelupembe


Search Mind I think of someone from aboveSearch mind of nobody else bottomlessRecall of the day of some sortsGoing round of the clock in searchSearch mind of the flowery landDouble clicking the mind of self meQuieting room the free circle of mindsSearch mind of the flowery smileThe duster of a bad day in the gardenSearch mind, and search of love word Paul Mwenelupembe


Shinning Dreamer The dream keeper excelsGlitters, perfuming, resortingReforming,Dying breath,DivingWrigglingNibblingTidingNettingThe eastern starSheeringLimingMy supper shinning dreamer Paul Mwenelupembe


Slippery Road Oh, you're so big and wideO! How rocky and murky 'u areYou're so young and longOh, you're so devilish and vileO! How dare you smile at me like that?Are you old and oily?Oh, you're so little and rustleO! How wrinkled and wicked you are!You're so sticky and sloppyLike, O' bendy and clipped road Paul Mwenelupembe


So Deep In the Ocean birds diveIn the embroideriesthey take and giveThat's my angelWhispers...in the watersOf lifeAnd silence, drivesthe night Paul Mwenelupembe


So Did My Heart So did my heart in the futile gobbetSpreading words and built castles in the airSimmering messages, grasped and sniffedDown there, the intimacy and teething desireProverbed If I don't leave by photographsI will lustI need your pale face displayedBy the footAnd take hold of youAll day every day So did my heart swallowing song linesA refined retrospect in dunesThat heart rocking in vainPromised deepen a promising willBut hmm....uh...disbarredAnd shamefully soaked in rainsSo did my heart covered in seaweeds Paul Mwenelupembe


Sonnet Of Green Nchalo So hot it says, swallowing strangers' strainIn the far green memento field it comesIn the ever greed ground with sprinklers stainSo scattered but green sweets amid fluids' canesIt awakens dews on underline and rolls flightAnext is Savanna brown glue sleeps livesIt heads away spites and reborn of fightIts people giggle, percolates huge fruits along a livesAs hospitable as lake Malawi the mine belongThat's likeable atmosphere Majete aside sparkles greyLifting on and off the mirror all day longIn the birds song of mileage below shire valley jailThe frozen Nchalo of green land in visitors eyeBut it creates books so long to their humanoid bye Paul Mwenelupembe


Summit Of Drying Breath Summer was her, the day of the snailing school boyOn the shoulder with such poles and GPS tool boxIn aslow space, he jet passed near the baseless summitAs if herd of bulls, he hoofed up the heel surturatingFour great strengths but with one escorter's laceThe tour guider of that day afternoon raceWhile the wind swifly spoke in all anglesThe grey day leading on a silent blades ranglesHe was the talk of the town heading up like a leader bandSo at once he nodded on the pull of the landHe crossed the river empty between on top next was the oneThe great searchers of national trig pillar linesWhere they wanted to seal their GPS receiving stationBut that hill, he gave much respect and knocked upon loopsBecause his air breath lapsed, and lapsed of oopsHe fell down, just close the pillar door wayAnd saw the entire horse race passing by in prairie bayTo the west the sun glared red near the district councilAnd to the east stood ablue cloth pencilIn the middle was an evergreen eye angelWrapped with his best cry of breath tam-tam tasselHe slept afew minutes and knock off againHe rose from the mighty of his stomach grainAnd receive afinal call while on the pillar caseThe pillar the remained twice darken meal verseThat day he grabbed so hard his finger nailedOn the hill summit they started the journey on railAfter dismantling the radio station basementThe musterpiece of that day play movementThat was adarken sky, the school boy went downAnd dropped down non reversable mail till dawn Paul Mwenelupembe


Swallow Pool History is a guide roller stoneThe eastern star that stumbles on mile stonesThose mistakes still lights on the wayThe best stare and tool in a corner cabinetPraising, reducing and mopping you It's such a swallow pool, engulfing forceObservant hole spot, rules of wild game pin patOblivion the state of steel examinable coatErrors like paper taste, great tutor and folder file In a nice unfolded past, present lessons of torchPlay in the lounge, within youThis your likelihood, this your poolBut it's a pillar of salt, in front your knockBehind you a saga, a radical bookWhich rail you, rail you inside self centredAnd retains thoughts, surrounding your fussPraising, reducing and mopping you Paul Mwenelupembe


Sweet Mango Tree A movements of mango treeA sneak coming from behindA swift show at four waysThe tree of shades and flowersHas fruits so bright insideIt can take you to the lakeAnd love, oh my sweet treeIt's in the summerland, a gripWithin my city it callsSo stupid it spoiled IAnd raised my wordsTo the tree, sweet mango tree Paul Mwenelupembe


Tangerine, A Sonorant Coercer Trees, were trees made firstSuch a sonorant coercer amidRolling innermost circles, to the treeDown are the seas with an over lookFalling between lines of a rolling tangerine sea Trees, were trees made firstTangerine trees, this tangerineYou can reason, this lake of petalsTangerine fruit only you can sleep onAnd peel off, you will hear thisSinking tangerine salt seaTangerine tree, a fruit to die on Paul Mwenelupembe


The Best Gift To Give When life closes down from heavendown is the gift of helldown is the light of hopeThen here comes the king When life closes its wingsabove sea are the surgesabove sea are the wavesThen here comes the king When life smiles from downup is the loaf of breadup are the smells of green ageThen here comes the king when life lifts stones on highbeating and lifting are their crypasting and drumming the dead flyThen here comes the king Paul Mwenelupembe


The Blessed Land Come and eat in the greed grassIn the house of bread laid in loveSuch a monumental peace down streamThe flying black birds, red cola and whiteThe zoo of life in all lives is in hereIn the valley of delicious foods of IsraelIn the vision of the blessed land Paul Mwenelupembe


The Day I Went To Forgone Such flowers littering on this faceAttracting mercies from forgonepiercing rivers like a stabbing swordAnd welcomed on the foretold Meetings and the meats like a browHitting and lifting such a light wordIs this sea of loveTo a man inside the heartAs the flower is day I went to Forgone Paul Mwenelupembe


The Desperate Woman She stands there, dripping salivaShe is sick and going wirryShe reampts slowly like a tortoiseLeading down to the looAnd back into the thatched house She was, and has anew bornOn the mat, striped palm leaves matBut why is shenot in the medicine house She has delivered yesterdayOn the river of life,she counts her lifeand desperate she is of knifeSo life is dying in her eyesWith a need of helpComing from the new home Paul Mwenelupembe


The Little Things We Say Sometimes we say some little thingsWe get them from an egg of no whereDo we say to carry the days?Sometimes we say for a while Sometimes we say some little thingsFrom little moments of blissDo we know where they come fromWe make our own worldWe say for a while at length Sometimes we say some little thingsFrom keeping an eye of thingsWill those build aroud youFor the sky will make a clapIn the little word we tellIn the little things we say Paul Mwenelupembe


The One In Glasses The one in glasses, that grassed landSpreading steps to that coupleSongs were a salt into cooked fishRaising the sea tides inside such crowdsIt was in the walled house, of cashWhere songs walked on top on the grassAnd the heart, upon the couple's smellFrom my home land, that cousinTo the new couple in flowersWell laid, the smile of my land Paul Mwenelupembe


To End In A Slur To end in a slur like a foolIt clings me forthIt shows as if you the ownerNever realize what is beforeOr behind you It finds its wayand stables by your backWatch out!It says after piercingIts hacksaw To end in a slur like grimace of painIt really takes the shapeOf the Lion On ends the vision is an ideaOf calling the rays of deerMy lord, my lord to yourselfSo when prayers werein a rocked boxIt sounds as if He is silentEnding in a slur of deathIs the test results Paul Mwenelupembe


To My Darling Over cross, closed are thoughtsTo my darling is a song of loveOver cross, closed are my footprintsTo my darling I count the sandsOver cross, closed is the whirl soundTo my darling are such summer gutsOver cross, closed is the sunlightTo my darling, is the settled beauty Paul Mwenelupembe


To My Lord I Breathe To my lord I breathe, cast away the overspills,O’ God you are my source of happiness,And I lay my living sacrifice today for a purpose,I feel this deadly pain in me but I believe only in you.O’ Lord see my tears; they are tears of hope of sorrowTaken from the feet of mount Zion, to the heart of GodAnd my trust rests only in you, my heavenly fatherTo the love of God, to such love of Jesus I swim inO’ king of Israel I raise my head in a broken calabashSeeking the glory and ever green gardenTo my left and light, are the folded arms Paul Mwenelupembe


Triumpant Lamb Seat, live in the lamb's smileAs it seated on the bench linePosing for the music to danceIt waited for the arocities to be playedIn yet green planet, beautiful planet Had it been the stories of the verdict upliftThat the wicked leaked their lipsThe lamb could smear with aleek smilesThen in the gripped queue it posed again Driven by tense inward it ranTossing like a silver bellThe same, the name boomed aheadAnd a quarter mile it posed again Ready to carry the bumper yieldAnd bow, bow was lit and shieldedWhile hands shook bouncingHitting hard inside the brave of the world And when the cross was carriedThe swift vehicle induced the speedThen the white sheet was bornIn a shower of embrace Paul Mwenelupembe


Turn From A Desert To Watered Garden Why there are seasons in desertsThat percolated situations are calculatedFrom the most high yet island existsOf which saturated is better goes unsaturatedAnd the end of bad to worseAnd earmarks later from better to best Why is it that deserts are neitherpermanent nor the watered gardenDoes the craziest thingAnd better smile of green breastAnd emit all that pours from above For if Christ was invitedCloser to his doors' touchWatered in a garden of eveIs here to restTo get over neat best timeline For his journey in cloudsTo endless abssy of doom's dayIs in the watered gardenAnd turns breath from yearning desertTo watered garden of eve Paul Mwenelupembe


Turn Of Screws The sea, what a fee to seePinned on the beach, hardly I to saySeen the tides, what a tides to ripeThe weather belching, on brimes of my lipsThe clouds, what a clouds littered in the universeTaken up I the storm remembered my storyIt blew over the languid sky, what a liquid in the skyAmid nails the temple was laid to payIt went, what a go into fresh of my soulKept on my eyes I throwing page of my bookOver the body laughing, what an open bodies to cryIt was a bull in the slaughter house of flamed landTides crawled slowly, what acrawl on the floorIn my face I faced my fence a swash to a back swashLike a surf on water, what a surf on the bluesThat grinned sightly turned I the screws to flyA bag of bones what a bag to carry onAs clouds filled my head if the body took to heelsMy skin in the sun pierced, grew againAs gradual as smouldering charcoal, what a frame to seeThe sea, my seat stood still in storks missing storm Paul Mwenelupembe


When I Am Closer By the river, when I am closerIt flows, erodes and overflowsBy the river I flood a tie to myselfAnd look into a blue deep waterThis fresh water, grows for my heartAnd capsizes my rock over and onI will die if I never turn thisI will turn, turning these river eyesTo my spring I go into for reallWhen I am Closer, by the river Nile Paul Mwenelupembe


When The World Vanishes When this world vanishesWhen it goes with its own thingsWhen the sun glows dim thenThe moon shall head adark shapeThe earth shall warn out like aclothHe says on the mount Zion When the living things cry foulWhen the most high shall say no moreWhen the heavens shall close its wallsOur ways shall never be hisHis ways are always higher as heavenFor he is the king of glory If today we remember the crossAnd take charge of his willDemonds shall never sneak closerEven diseases shall regret to lockAnd he shall say well is with youWhen the world vanishes Paul Mwenelupembe


White Lonely Bird White lonely birdSpleeps and sleeps in the sun lightAll alone as sun rises, grows and dieDancing, breaking, so arrest and delightPerched, fly and, sing a song dicePretender of the real love world The lonely bird so coated in cutes,In the Kwasakwasa cowardiceKwe-kwe-kweThe missing gift of tightRocking on earth now and thenBy the oceanic sand bite classic One side is a lake of fireBracing and blazing the birdRoasting the inner world of loveYet desperately needs embroideries budAnd the only singer by ther beach Paul Mwenelupembe


Women, Language Of Women I have this on my plate todayWomen, language of womenIt stands tall in dark secretsIn this world language to womenUlu! Kikiki, ulu! This language Sexists if sexist speak and converseThey gossip well themselves, womenSordid and so spacious house of commonsTheir language is a spade, a pearfishThis common language of womanlike I see them, gathering thoughtsFor a talk is such bossy gossipersAs such they have no where to sayEverywhere is their tree shadeBeneath the dark page, the shade wandersAs such it widens their womankind Women, language of womenI retire when I am in their cageAll glass on the window, they see throughAll ages they pass on to ages Ulu! Kikiki, ulu! This languageI speak when I am aroundBut they speak better themselvesThis female patterns of speachAnd tie gossips to the treeAnd they die for their homes Paul Mwenelupembe


Word Love Will love take you there?Will it carry the sky over you?Each day is a sheet of paperUpon which thoughts play Love, word loveDo you know what love is?It will raise tides over seasWhile spreading its touch,Love will do grow and dieIn the land of loveWhere love surpasses all Paul Mwenelupembe


Would You Mind At Zomba City, would you mind to hear thatIt cooked tears, unseen tears to the bold mindsDangling in cold eyes of CHANCO, of the universityA look to the eastern sky, we went for our soilsJust to plant a country side, of MalawiThese rural growth centres to the east was the oneSurveyors stood tall, their machine on the groundTo Chitekesa just near by displayed Lake ChirwaBut would you mind to take the cool cityIt raised such calm sea to tides of ridgesWhile the cold sea flown as a bird, tired birdTwo birds were playing, I played emotional gameI played the game of texts from Zomba CityWould you mind on this bed of Zomba cityThe story remains in cold eyes of the city Paul Mwenelupembe


Paul Mwenelupembe - poems · 2017. 11. 18. · Paul Mwenelupembe(5 December,1984) My original name...

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Transcript of Paul Mwenelupembe - poems · 2017. 11. 18. · Paul Mwenelupembe(5 December,1984) My original name...