By Chrispah Munyoro, World BEYOND War, November 6, 2020

Blasting of Explosives

The richness oozing.

Magnetic attracting deadly sting.

The soil breathing winter of June.

Underneath gems pilling like dune.

Sprouting and arranged as a pyramid.

Of which flesh blood soaks them amid.

Africa so loaded and on the top of the pose.

Like a star, always there shining engraved with pompous.

The unbelievable, when it blasts the fire in the moss.

Spreading bad odour, poisonous to the mass.

Gem panniers in the greatest zone of war.

Which leaves souls at confused par?

The golden pieces a scent of death.

Once upon a time, it was a myth.

Today death is ululated like a celebration.

For grabbing the gems is a marathon.

The survival of the fittest is the game.

Robbing life cunningly without shame.

Africa with the bitterness of paprika.

Widows, orphans, friends crying without a breaker.

Fathers, brothers, sisters all swiped off.

By the careless, blasting and unfeeling oaf.

Death for the ore.

Registered pain for all.

The copperplate dressed by human fresh blood.

Coldly salivating the raucous mood.

Stamp mill singing songs crashing bones.

Of the bright future stolen and swiftly bygones.

The more they perish.

In the mirror of life greatness perish.

Chrispah Munyoro is a student of Applied Art and Design, Graphics and Website Programming at Kwekwe Polytechnic College in Zimbabwe. Munyoro is a talented writer, journalist and a dedicated Design Artist. She is natural linguist, fluent in many languages.