MP your Profile Photo, Image may contain: one or more people and closeupDear Zimbabweans, Activists, media, writers and poets.  The Miombopublishing blog journal   brings you regular posts of word slingers and   word guerillas that are part of the Poets Free Zimbabwe Campaign (the Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign) starting from September 2017 to August 2018.

We are going to feature one  Word guerilla  every week  to send a strong message to the merciless , ruthless and careless Mugabe  regime  which has left  the POVO( majority) in limbo. Zimbabweans continue to suffer under the burden of untold poverty, human rights abuses, violence and despotism. The Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign is   trending on our Facebook group 100 Thousand Poets for Peace- Zimbabwe; Poets post their words on the group wall. The Admin of the group then select poems for the Tuck Magazine /Zimbabwe We Want Poetry Campaign (Brave Voices Poetry Journal). MiomboPublishing supports the same CAUSE by featuring    single hardworking and vocal contributors to the Campaign every week. Dear reader meet Tynoe Wilson – the VOICE IN  THE PEN

We invite you to read her poetry, send comments like and participate in the CAMPAIGN   on our FACEBOOK platform. For more information send us an email to



Dis Grace
Disgraceful was that speech of immunity
To be vowed, a loud sounding nothing,
Just alike an empty vessel, Which whistle
To the blowing breeze, Dance to the storm
So conflicting to whisper honest or truth.

Promises meant be broken instantly
Oh! What a shame. To campaign so deceitful
Pledging wiles to the masses, concealed
Her viles to post my conscience into that
Fox trap, digged deeply, left only to agonise.

Not even graced to please any , A red devil
She is, whom depletes my prospects , Yes
She is too conflicting , Her sentiments
To have brought names, curses, shame,
Dis-Grace and instigated many conflicts.

Now it is a sour bite of the prevailing truth,
Chewing or spitting won’t craft a dissimilar,
Poised between disillusionment and discomfort,
Fate worth no laughter, Only groans , moans
Lamentation to this rinsed craft, Disguised.

In response to a humiliating incident in RSA



Potential exult



Beat the drum with a sceptre, so stiff and
Let the muffled loud sound
Echo the triumph of ages at
Chimoyo, Manyika, Dande, Mazowe…
Jubilate in remorse, for the son of soil
Bulldozed through the bayonet, yearning
For liberty- the bitter fruit bored * Chimurenga war
Ululate for the death of the lions, it was
A sign of bravery. The cubs of Zimbabwe,
Weep for boundless affection was revealed,
Nehanda, Kaguvi, Chaminuka, Chinamora
Our societal lamps to the slain –execution
Brought turmoil * the mark of brutal touchier.
The victory over the sceptre bored impartiality
Still though sovereignty had remained awry
A lament to our prospects, the youthful clans
Tis indeed a sweet-bitter liberty
In prevalence, to impede the cause
Rage jets, stimulated by this brother, without
Anyone sage we mourn instead
To exult the fruit bored*Chimurenga w



Impetuous is my poetry to reveal that Fig
The Fig that causes havoc and to have
Caused a reign of terror in the hamlet
That Fig to have strained my zealous
Thoughts of being in a rinsed civilisation
And framed a portal of misconceptions

To reminisce about you in the hamlet
Everyone hallows the Fig , and to seat
Underneath your shade, You inflicts more
Than the piercing breeze. The thoughts
Are of lumbering you down for firewood
Yet you blaze in mist of soothe that is elusive.

The Fig, to have bored me toils and enslaves
Mine crafted axes made blunt as l had
Striven to chop you for virtuous reasons
And my energies thwarted in the action
Impetuous then be my poetry
For I will live to cheer your demise

As I thought of watering you, and that
Maybe morrow would bored better prospects
It was just an eyesore, and your leaves
Heated to red hot, my peel to the heats
That was all the Fig could bore me,
A rinsed warmth and apathy

As I thought of ploughing your course
I damn longed for your branches to build
A shade, but all I got was your coldness
And now the craving be to pluck you out
From mother earth, Your deep roots my
Hinderence and never the Fig be uprooted



Shall I ever rise


I wonder, why my fate be a toil, a distress
Brought either by circumstances in prevalence
Or merely that muddling affairs, not to impress
Ever once, yet daily brother pledge his condolence.

Even that blazing zealous impede drastically
Thoughts are of being emancipated, Yet still
The echo of their voices is never perceived loudly
And that demarcation to have stood amid still.

Straining is the odd, Brought into servitude
Whipped, lashed, and my back to bent to the
Weight of humiliation, Treated with an attitude
In the domains everyone claims to have liberated

Alas I was yoked before, Yet still I am yoked
But now without clarity. Ghettos isentropic
Mocked and shame is all mine yielding reared
Agonising. Shall I rise, conflicts still be crafted.

I sense no dissimilar in both the colonial regime and the elected one in notion. Now a Nation in chaos and riotous comradeship bull doze through the bayonets



In a histrionic manner I stride
With Virgo, intensions meant to be perceived
For it has been now a prolonged rough ride
To reminisce, all the zeal thwarted

For it’s now a ship in distress
At a threshold to sink for good, so incompetent,
Left without any to impress
A blot on escutcheon is the captain, so complacent

All passengers not at ease, in distraught
For it takes the beast for survival
In remorse, I weep in this jaunt
Struggling with all efforts, peddling for revival

Muddled being the situation, in the seas
Battling for the last breath, held tight the rope
How I wish the feat to have cease
Maybe someday, titanic sunk but never lost hope


Wilson WaisonImage may contain: 1 person, outdoor(he  is Poet , Social Justice Activist  and Protest Poet, a member  of  the Zimbabwe Poets for Human  Rights in Zimbabwe)



3 thoughts on “TYNOE WILSON WAISON – the Voice in the Pen!(Poets Free Zimbabwe 5)

  1. a rising young voice shaping the struggle for positive transformation and Peace . Keep the great work Wilson Waison . Your writings reflect the Zimbabwe we live in . Aluta continua , we shape the struggle through pen.

    Liked by 1 person

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