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BRUNO IMATE NYAMBE
Nacionalidad:
Zambia
E-mail:
davenyambe@gmail.com
Biografia

BRUNO IMATE NYAMBE

CONSUL, REPRESENTATIVE BRUNO IMATE NYAMBE is a young Poet in Zambia.

His poetry writing skills are sourced from his love of music. His skills have also developed as a result of reading novels and religious books. He became an active writer in 2016, when he started publishing his pieces online. Prior to 2016, he was mostly in the background, writing poems for people. In the same year of becoming an active writer, he participated in a Written Word Contest organised by BitterSweet Poetry Zambia, where he was the first runner-up. He is a member of the African Sage, the best online platform for young African poets. He is also one of the longest and consistent Written Word poets of BitterSweet Poetry Zambia. He has attended over ten (10) Poetry Performances, including recitals organised by BitterSweet Poetry Zambia. Additionally, he has also composed various poems in the BitterSweet Peotry Zambia Facebook Page and on his personal Facebook account, which pieces have received overwhelming responses from the audience. In spite of his occupation as a Finance and Administrative Assistant, his desire and skills for poetry keep increasing rapidly each day. He can be reached at davenyambe@gmail.com, on Twitter at @ImateNyambe, or on his Google+ Blog Spot on http://brunonyambe.blogspot.com/

BRUNO IMATE NYAMBE

Cónsul, representante BRUNO IMATE NYAMBE es un joven poeta en Zambia.

Sus habilidades de escritura de poesía provienen de su amor por la música. Sus habilidades también se han desarrollado como resultado de la lectura de novelas y libros religiosos. Se convirtió en un escritor activo en 2016, cuando comenzó a publicar sus piezas en línea. Antes de 2016, estaba mayormente en el fondo, escribiendo poemas para la gente. En el mismo año de convertirse en un escritor activo, participó en un concurso organizado por BitterSweet Poetry Zambia, donde fue el primer finalista. Es miembro del SAGE africano, la mejor plataforma online para jóvenes poetas africanos. También es uno de los poetas más consistentes de la poesía agridulce de Zambia. Ha asistido a más de diez (10) actuaciones de poesía, incluyendo recitales organizados por BitterSweet Poetry Zambia. Además, también ha compuesto varios poemas en la página de Facebook de BitterSweet Peotry Zambia y en su cuenta personal de Facebook, las que han recibido respuestas abrumadoras de la audiencia. A pesar de su ocupación como asistente de finanzas y administrativos, su deseo y habilidades para la poesía siguen aumentando rápidamente cada día. 

 

THOUGHTS

I’m idly sited so a thought strikes, am I known by the Omniscient?

I have had this sin fix in my life, should I take it to the Omnicompetent?

There’s a laden of iniquity on my shoulder, can I cast it on Him who’s Omnipotent?
I flood myself in tears each night, if I shout will He hear this lament?

Oh wretched soul, like Paul after the scales, will I be nonchalant?

The open word has it He died for me, am I that important?
So here’s the catch; if I repent and confess my soul He will not relent.

So now today is the battle, will I shame and rebuke the serpent?
Will I introspect and reconsider so I may repent?

Sin has wrought in me shame and a thick taint.
Is this a magical phase or I will remain a sick saint?

See creativity is what keeps insane reality, pregnant women going for maternity, fathers applying for paternity, the gospel living beyond eternity. Are you still doubting? This is a fact beyond infallibility, the Black book has its originality.

Christ the Saviour being the originator, in him the foundation having its base.
For mankind he died to save. Breaking barriers of tribe and race.
What’s your reaction, will you live by His word and run at his pace?

Will your heights be aligned to his own so you may rejoice?

The shot is yours today, will you make the right choice?

The dice is rolled once, the lots also not twice, more solemn your single one chance at life. Amid all the needs, only He will suffice.


AN HOUR AT THE GATE

Holy sounds ringing from every angle, each Angel with a special harp singing melodious praises
I stretched my eyes without strain, earthly myopia was a line in a testimony book for my blindness had met the restoration of sight

I was alive and breathless for the sustainer of life was standing before me, he bore my sins and I could see their permeating effect trough the holes in his palms

He bled so I could be sealed for eternity, his death was my life beyond the countless millennium years

I wondered at such splendour and endearing love, my perception of affection was still in earthlings I couldn't fathom the depth of this Love, it didn't make sense as far as my debased logic was concerned

Imagine a holy God, the creator of the vast beauty visible in the spectrum of man's sight and his highest aspiration in imaginative sense
Standing before me

My faith couldn't be courteous enough to relinquish the voluntary pregnancy of doubt it carried, for if it were as fertile as a single mustered seed belief would have been born

He bade me, "Child open thou thine eyes," I did as he commanded lo and behold, I caught sight of Abraham pleading that I bear his child, for he was the father of faith

I contended with him, for dross was still significant in my tongue, my character was only as stable as Peter's feet while he rested his eyes on the Master

I was yet to be purged so I could reason like Rahab, amid the falling walls of the earth, similarly to Jericho

 

WHORE

I fell in love with a whore
She was everything worth defiling my bed, I was nothing to defy her ways

She gripped me with her hand sharpened in lust, my chastity kissed me goodbye, the basal passions of the carnal man took over

Before I could awaken, I was in her bed
Deep in her covers with my clothes warming the floor, my heart did beat so fast, only that it beat my innocence pants down

Oh boy I was in love, within a blink of an eye she was suddenly my lifelong desire
Everything I never thought, I could ever wish for was embedded in her body

Right in the hour of my lust did I muzzle her mouth, that I would dominate in her bed, as she would bend in submission

I turned her over, as my safety catch loosened
This was my hour of reckoning, thought I would atone for the years I had spent bound to devotion in beliefs

She gasped and passed a sharp moan, this was a chill of a life time, I felt the impetus running down my body to erect weak structures
The single tower with two round storeys stood again,
Sharpened like a charged missile waiting to shoot
This was a crazy ordeal, yet the devil in me had to recognise the goddess on the throne
I went down on my knees to worship, I ensured the celestial toes felt my lustful touch as my tongue complemented with the smoothening appeal

I felt her body shaking, shaking in pleasure as she failed to resist my middle name, only her inconsistent and increased breath could not allow it
I reached out for her trophies and embraced them gently, I was the champion of the hour
I had concurred the warlords on my path and won to myself sweet victory

I spied the territory ahead of me, to determine my capability for a landslide, boy did I meet my shock; she was a maiden and I was the vandal

Suddenly I had to make a tough call, either I penetrate the walls or go home nursing voluntarily earned shiny blue balls

Lust bailed me out; In turn I fed it to become the man whore.

 

 

Desarrollado por: Asesorias Web
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