Gone is the sound of the drums
That echoed in the mountains
Quenched is the fire
That illuminated villages
Dead is the soul of ubuntu
That cemented tribes and crossed all boundaries

Gone is the pride
Replaced by inadequacy
Lost is the culture
Traded in favour of a good ride
Forsaken heritage
In favour of the opposing side

Gone is the identity
Thrown away like my coal tresses
Hidden is my sense of propriety
Due to my desire for modern dresses
If you came here looking for dainty daisies
Think again, come to your senses
The old has gone and in its place is modernity

BY TANYARADZWA VANADIS17 MASAIRE

DID THIS POEM RING TRUE, INSPIRE OR TOUCH YOU? IF SO PLEASE SHOW THE AUTHOR SOME LOVE BY LIKING, SHARING, COMMENTING OR FOLLOWING THE BLOG…

for more good poems, articles or stories please click here for more good poems, articles and stories please click here

Advertisements