JURGEN MARTIN NAMUPIRA is versatile in style and his messages are deep. His poems speak to the old, the young and the dead. His themes include national politics and history, social life and freedom issues. His verses are simple but they hit more deep, deeper than everyday thoughts. I respect how his poems silently soak into the readers mind like water sipping through into sponge .NAMUPIRA is a high rising young poet , widely anthologized with two poetry collections under his golden literary belt . Poet JURGEN NAMUPIRA is an aspiring Engineer as he also connect verses like electrons into solid poetry substances. Thank you for coming through to TIME OF THE POET PROFILES. CONTACT MBIZO CHIRASHA at


The little big gathering in our capital,
A circus by man in formal overalls
Well, we put them there;
They take us for joyrides whenever they feel like
And urinate on our heads as if washing away bad spirits.




Still no answers yet?

How did Humpty Dumpty climb the wall?
Not a mockery,
But someone must’ve put him there
Well, my own thoughts…

Ghetto kid where’s your matching slipper?
It’s rhetoric,
bother not to answer.
We both know you never owned the other partner,
but who put you there?
Someone must’ve left you barefooted…
Color blocking is better than nothing at all

Where is the answer to our mystery?
In fact, Everybody open your eyes wider and look around us,
The ghetto mystery has turned lived into a misery.
What shall we do?
Answers please comrades…



Hear me,
Oh descendants of Nehanda;
How blessed are you,
Just like me
You are a born free.

Listen to the distant voices;
Echoes of the crying cadres,
Who fell into death’s trap
At the fight at Chimoio.

Did you know?
A lot were massacred,
Long before your parents were born;
Because they fought for freedom.

Where is your cause;
African child resurrect
From the mental death;
Take responsibility of this free nation.

Let us unite today,
He will write a song;
She will create the tune
And we will sing a song.



I simply like it that way,
The torture my thoughts subject me to
That moment when my brains can’t stop.
My processing unit seems to be over speeding.
The idea is good
But timing seems to early.
3 O’clock in the morning,
I wake and sit
Nothing to work on
But mind at work.
I picture the young lady somewhere
Sitting by the seashore,
Her tiny face hid behind the uncombed hair.
With her torn jeans she sits direct on the sand,
Her mind miles apart with her body.
Her soul seems tormented
Only if I could predict…
Armed with curiosity,
My tongue won’t stay still
That is until I understand her story.
Whether it’s worth it,
Or not
No one cares.

My mission, almost impossible
Is to put a smile on her face.
Chit chat and the story goes on,
In a flash she drops a tear
And the next moment they are tears.
Young girl pours out her heart,
“I am young, I have dreams, I have expectations…”
“And the problem is,” I jump in;
Young girl bursts out;
“He is old, ugly, polygamous…”
That is when I understand her trauma,
Young girl is suffering the wrath of rot tradition,
A husband imposed on her
Simply because parents believe she is an asset.
To her the marriage will be a daily torture,
For them it will be a fortune
For he is a rich bastard.
A man of no shame,
Lacking sense in it’s commonness
Finding a wife in her
A girl his son was senior to in school.

Tell me;
What’s wrong with this world,
If all these old madalas enjoy the honey of our generation,
What will be left for us then,
Or do they expect us to then take home a secondhand wife?
So we should wait for their final sleep,
Until then we would to suffer in lust
Longing for their wives who could’ve been ours,
Only if they were not greedy.

No no no,
For me this won’t work.
I can’t see the morale decay prevail,
And they preach Ubuntu
When they can’t control their conjugal thirsts for fresh blood.
Enough is enough,
No acrimonious man should temper with the honey of my generation.


Raise your heart oh dear poet!
let your inner voice speak on behalf of your eyes
together we can change the world,
never for the worst;
our intentions are kind…
kind to love them,
them that have been victimized,
victimized and given names,
names that kill their confidence.
Rise oh dear poet!
drag your pen to your paper
and let your ink make as much noise as possible.

write, write and write dear poet,
write until the ink turns into a song,
a song loud enough for this adamant world of bullies.
Roar like a lion my fellow poet,
let your port of exit for words be ready
and your voice audible to all nations,
we  are ready to make all nations kind,
kind to love,
love them…
them that we have violated and bullied;
this we have done indirectly or directly,
but the fact remains
we still did.



JURGEN MARTIN NAMUPIRA is a humanitarian Zimbabwean poet. He writes to preach, teach and unite people from different walks of life. Poetry is rather a passion not a skill to him because it makes life easier for him when it comes to expressing his thoughts. Jurgen does seasonal spoken word presentations, but mostly his work is in black and white. Jürgen has since released two Poetry anthologies titled Greetings! and House of Grace. He also has a couple of short story novels and dramas already acted out of his scripts. Last but not least, NAMUPIRA is also a blogger and one of his blogs Art Plus Hope has also become a hub for budding poets and writers in general. Beside writing, Jurgen is also a student of Electrical Engineering at North link College in Cape Town, South Africa.


Curated  by MBIZO CHIRASHA , an International Fellow  of

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