A Crier At Hora
A crier, dripping and dripping
A crier at Hora
Tears of bees overflow the bucket
And rivers over popular at Hora
And lead to the elephant water body
Arms in akimble and legs
Falling from heaven like snow
Oh, why? why? why? why?
Wretched and wretched at Hora
And feeling very doodling sorry
And tears are cooking bread
And that nose says yes
Yes my slippery road at hora
And the face adorned with ridges
And so huge that sparks inside Hora
The essence, at Hora?
Is folded and rolled
In this crier's memory at Hora
poem by Paul Mwenelupembe
Added by Poetry Lover
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