As a result of abundant endowment, A state in nature, ensured of security A stage of impasse had we reached, Below which a formidable breech, The means of effectiveness without, Our primitive tools of war betrayed.
Despite the valour we showed, above Our military acumen, it certainly was. To assist and to effect the same end as The warrior behind a bush or a shield, We relied on the esoteric for strategy as Much as on the occult for stratagem.
At every juncture with conflict resorted To the ablest means the arts could avail Proved unguent preparation,War Doctor Siginyamatshe, by walking on hot coals, Swallowing stones, sat on point of the spear. Until the moment of impact, by a fatal missile, Its efficacy held strong, upon the target who, Thus became a victim of both faith and fate.
Bow and Arrow, the Axe, and a Spear mundane Had valiantly seen through their Iron Age epic Held high but less lofty, there remained static. It is thereat; Farewell To Tribal Arms Of War By a quantum leap, the humble bearer hopes In order to match demands of the field of combat, Acquire and train at hardware of the Age Of Steel
Men rise, men die but a few live on in eternity, There are kings, there are mortals and there are those who are immortals but a few are engraved in the silhouettes of history. There was a lion who once
On my way to work, Whenever I pass through The Holy Trinity church, After a brief prayer, The tombstone of a martyr My eyes never fail to search As his eulogies sensitive cords Are sure to touch! I admire The
If I forget spring, bruise my face with grass to meld with soil in prescience of later ritual. If I forget summer, drip on my tongue the blood of fresh berries, and the insolent taste of mint. If I forget
Our age is a deciduous tree, sheds yellow desires every year makes room for new ones in the spring of opportunity. Some desires resemble oak leaves, cramped and brown- still cling in mothers’ bosoms like our plans, albums, possessions. Alas,