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I will strum this guitar
Tirelessly and vehemently
Making the soprano string wail
Like a neonate gasping its initial precious air
The alto string concurring with it
While the tenor one blending with them
Fruiting an awesome melody
And the bass string roaring lowly
Like a yawning lion

I am strumming this guitar
Along the streets in my neighborhood
Satisfying spectators, my fans
Who urged me to create this instrument
With their finances, energy and votes
But it’s now like the wood is wet
And the strings are always off tune
So the spectators, these fans
Have started backing off
There is need for a replacement
To keep hold of them
Before another guitarist takes over.

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Author: Chikondi Chisepeya

A Malawian youth and an enthusiastic upcoming writer hoping to contribute to the world's change for better one day through pen.

  • tiweramt

    very nice poem