MP– Chrispah Munyoro grew up with Poets like Mbizo Chirasha, Daniso Collins and writer Munyaradzi Makoni in Gweru. The poetess is a versatile personality who dabbles in a myriad of projects that include sports, visual arts, journalism and poetry. She wrote extensively for the home newspaper the Gweru Times for more than 7 years from a tender age of 16 years. Chrispah boasts of a bold pen and a strong creative acumen ship. The poet , artist , writer got much of her inspiration from established writers like David Mungoshi , late Stephen Alumenda, Jabulani Mzinyathi, Augustine Deke and Ignatius Musonza . She was versatile in forming the Association of Freelance Journalists Gweru Chapter and she led the chapter for several years.Chrispah was also a member of the Budding Writers Association of Zimbabwe and Zimbabwe Writers Union .Munyoro is a unique character and poet who wishes to her work being read across the globe .We are greatly humbled to bring to the reader this eminent voice . Contact, email@example.com
Poetica infinita!-( Mbizo Chirasha- Editor)
Looking beyond the great hills.
Bathing in sweat.
Breathing hot air like a dragon.
Heart beat measured in mega-seconds.
For the umpteenth clock, signing.
The sigh controlling choking tears.
Yes I could empty the sea.
For blood had profusely pumped from my flesh.
Not by blood donation.
The goons happily enjoying.
While the masses are shrivelling.
Seeped of the great future.
Stolen is the willpower to live.
I see desert in an oasis.
Shuddering of the masses.
Swimming in green waters.
Drinking the dirty waters to try quenching the thirst.
The hunter dancing with the hopeless.
Its red eyes full of wrath.
All in all it is grinning widely.
Squashing the flies on its mouth.
So plenty, you would say it’s the lord of the flies.
Tail slicing the human throats with no mercy.
You would think it’s the honour of world.
So cunning and cruel that it repulses.
Intellects playing poker with beggars.
The roulette turning mercilessly.
Bazookas carried like beloved babies.
The hardness of the casino of breathing.
All looking at the mountain with great expectations.
Expecting fruits of life.
Only stones stuck them in amazement.
Dropping their machetes in awe.
Africa the beauty of the world.
Full of crops in granaries.
Still shrivelling in hunger.
The bumper harvests caught by spider webs.
Built with razor wires.
To go have a handful you step on scorpions.
Their venom so deadly.
While the flashy bath in ice cream
Drinking blood in wine glasses.
Babies robbed of their future.
Smoking glue, nyaope.
While they sip Musombodia from water bottles.
Drugging themselves to raffats.
Injecting lethal medicines in dine.
Africa wake up from the slumber.
Smell the fragrance of perfumed life ahead.
You are full of hope for the whole world.
The bizarre nexus of our era.
Epoch of paranoia ideology.
In dire poverty we are stranded.
Dejected, neglected and rejected.
From our freedom of action.
Our minds race-pacing.
Men become enemies of each other.
The weird phantasmal dribbling in Africa.
Blood wars purpling the Heath.
Deep down when stones are things of beauty.
From Mbujimai to the corridors of Rwanda
And Burundi caves.
The dances bumping from Congo like tennis balls.
Dances full of limping.
Terrorism destroying the populace.
The smoke of uncertainty and gruesome pain
God made the earth.
The earth was pure, fresh.
Without any hindrance or worries.
What did the men do?
Men created chaos.
Destroying and trying to be idols.
That in it shredded this blemish.
America you decided you are an intellect.
By experimenting with science.
People kill babies under the more innocent,
Name of family planning.
Death springing from America.
Tears in Africa
Falling dismally to those who misuse the church.
Who view it as a market exchange?
Deserting the lord in jolly.
Praying to him in desperation.
Warning!! The church is not a stock exchange.
Those leaders who rules by iron rods.
Their hearts pumping subterfuge.
Who thinks he is above the law.
They can’t be asked for their actions.
Doing whatever they want like the wind.
Believe me men you are heartless.
Zombies full of fear for your steps pro tour.
In a world of action and reaction.
Wow you for the dirty money discriminating us.
Think deeply about the day of judgement.
The pieces of silver and notes .
Are useless in after life.
A man’s place is under God’s commandments.
Tip me men what will become
Of your ruthlessness?
Tell me what will happen on that day?
On the day of judgment what will you do?
I bet you shall be gnashing teeth.
Running for cover with terror.
Take heed! it shall be regretful.
But you can’t change the hands of time.
Ammagedeon is gonna strike.
Like the speed of lightning.
On the judgement day.
From the corridors of doom.
The wicked smell of burnt hopes.
Like a blasted bomb.
Hovering, darker than black.
Blinding the skies.
Are choppers pouring stench.
Spraying the perfume called tear gases.
So cruel, with their speed.
Cutting life like a red hot sword.
From what was once a golden sceptre.
Blood is flowing, colouring everything.
Vomit being the special meal.
Bathing in salty sweat.
Quenching thirst by pus.
The flesh being ravaged strategically.
Ohhhh the skeletons are dancing.
Their voices so muffled and terrible.
Soaring every grain of land.
No helper, their brains scattered.
The phantasmal scenario.
Blood taken for toasts.
By the vampires.
Smiling for a mile in jolly.
The human flesh being bried.
Chuckling while they put salt.
Which tastes like the pepper.
To dare that you are in pain.
You face the wrath from Hades.
Licenced by hell.
Miss you, cherish you.
The once great blemis.
Of peace and serenity
In the deepest dark pitch.
I beamed at great heights.
Heights I never reached.
I looked to the skies.
In deep thoughts and wonder.
A voice whispered in my ear,
‘Move on, get up, endure for you are in the right track.
Heart pounding, sweating and shivering.
Still I couldn’t let go.
The words rolling in my mind which made me alive and purposeful.
To my creator, I whispered ‘I salute you.
I clap hands for you.
Always grateful for the spirit of development.’
I knelt down showing my appreciation.
A lot to explore with my mind and pen.
The river is aware of the tide of the waves.
Dangers of Lucifer’s angels had claimed the throne.
In deep waters upon.
Every tidal wave.
Crystal placid lays a bay of blue waters.
Lord bless me with rainbow, you are with me.
The moon, sun, enchanting wind.
To wake the tidal passion within my heart.
There in the valley.
Stood the chocolate rose.
For God had gave all the beauty.
Like an angel in flight!
That makes my heart, to skip some beats.
Like in Wonderland,,, ohhh yeah.
Only there is no Alice.
I miss and cherish you most.
Dreaming for your tender heart.
A real woman on great valour.
Perfuming my nostrils.
With your unique fragrance.
Your laughter ringing in my ear like a ringtone.
Your shade refreshing me.
Your warmth enveloping me.
Now the valley is scarted by the pot-pourri.
Afar it seems you are there.
Nearby you are nowhere to be seen.
Clutching happy memories forever.
You will always live in my heart.
Love you loads mum.
Chrispah Munyoro is currently a student of Applied Art and Design, Graphics and Website Programming. at Kwekwe Polytechinic College in Zimbabwe . Munyoro is a talented writer, journalist and a dedicated Design Artist. She is natural linguist, fluent in many languages among them English, Shona, Esperanto, Setswana, Swahili, Italiana and Yoruba. She began as a columnist writing feature articles in the Gweru Times in Midlands Province Capital of Zimbabwe. She has worked as a Midlands Chapter Chairperson of the Zimbabwe Association of Freelance Journalists. Munyoro was once a Zimbabwe Representative at Zone IV Regional Youth Games in 2014 Bulawayo in the boxing discipline. The multi-disciplinary artist is registered under AIBA the international body of boxing. The Writer, Artist, Poet, Journalist and athlete has been writing poetry since her tender years and she has participated in various writers ,poetry ,journalism and sports workshops.