Poems

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………………………………………………………………

THE DANCE by Brenda Keino

I feel the drum beat

rich and pulsating

In tandem with my heart

All around dark bodies

glistening in the silver glow

Writhing, grinding

In frenzied urgent movements

fluid, breathless unspoken ecstasy

the eerie mystic of generations gone

of generations unborn

Where my body ended

His heart began

As we were transported

To a place beyond

Where souls danced

forever in perfect harmony

Brenda Keino

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Brenda Keino

………………………………………………………………

The World Is Upside Down

Strange things are happening, I tell you true .

For all things weird, the days are due.

I went into a local pub yesterday, to have myself some brew,

And sitting there at the bar, was this beauty I once knew.

Adopting a suave demeanor, I slid onto the stool next to hers

And ordered a round of ale for the two of us.

Several glasses later, I was showering her with praise,

Bringing back the old times and promising the moon,

When she suddenly turned cold as ice,

Said she was tired of men like me, and walked out of the room.

I turned to the barman, confusion written on my face

Because I had played the perfect gentleman.

The barman shook his head and said,

“I put no stock in your plan”.

He poured me another glass of the holy amber

And as I drunk, he talked:

“You see, the world is upside down,” quoth he.

“If you were less kind, she wouldn’t have walked.

“A peek at any daily will echo my sentiments:

Goodness is out and evil is in,

Black is white and right is wrong,

Up is down and holiness a sin.”

Hard words they were and they hurt like punches.

I shakily paid my tab and said goodbye.

Drunk and disorderly, I staggered out of the establishment –

And fell into the sky!

by Alex Nderitu

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Alex Nderitu

………………………………………………………………

CHICKEN N WINE

Im not the bravest,

Stamping my chest

and blandishing machetes,

If I tell u l’d kill a lion

like the masaai moran

I’d be lying

coz it take two hearts

and I only have one,

But I’d psyche myself

With hot water n a knife

slaughter a chicken

prepare a 3 course meal for us

and let u have the drumstick and gizzard,

Everyone has gone non alcoholic,

non alcoholic wine,non alcoholic beer,

If I owned Coca Cola,

I’d make exotic Cola Wine,

from ripe red grapes and purple plums,

anyway,we assume soda as champagne

and open instead of corking,

pour instead of filling,

into cups instead of glasses

All in all, we chess

To love,

To happiness,

To bliss,

and smile

I saw the new BMW X6 on DSTV,

it’s sheer driving pleasure

But only if alone,

coz I like your arms around my waist,

going to work on my motorbike

It breaks the Michuki laws

coz the bike doesn’t have belts,

I’m your safety belt

we’ll make it

if u hold on tight,

Being chauffeured to Hilton Hotel with a BMW for

a plate of chicken

and glass of wine

would be a perfect dinner,

unfortunately this is just but a dream,

despite our dim candle-lit table

and sitting next to me on that stool

your company is delicious as the chicken

and small talk is sweet as the wine.

By Edwin Mugendi

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Edwin Mugendi

………………………………………………………………

Walking Troubles

See their bodies wearing

Masks

Covered sins in skins

Walking troubles

Dungeon souls

Flawed instincts

A flood

Of coloured pretences

Violent preferences

And dirty references

Feel their faces smelling

The smiling

With hearts

Full of loathe

Hatred to the throat

Rains

Of false tears

Forced out

In pleasure of a search

For pity

See their black behinds

Coated chests

Braided hairs

And misplaced muscles

Parading the streets

Unanswered queries

Bitter truths shut

Below smelly armpits

Torn elbows

See their bright shadows talking

Blackmails

Unremorseful

Leisure dirty

Walking

Still working

See them

Walking adrift
Come,weeping child

Come weeping child

Find serenity in my palms

Take my arms

Worry not

Don’t ask how comes

Rest

You have suffered

Enough of the pain now

Come weeping child

The hungry wolves betrayed you

They impurified

Your virgin innocence

They dragged you

Into the unorganized bush

With a sudden push

They tortured you

Dad was there too

Uncle was there too

Dad’s friend was there too

Your former classmate was there too

All of a sadden

Your body became a zoo

Come weeping child

Unburden your soul

Uncrack your face

Take this peace embrace

Find rest in the mild sun

Feel free like the flying birds

Wipe your tears,child
Shadow

Hidden shadow

In a hunger stricken soul

False truth

The shadow

The being

Uncouth

Practically plastically breathing

Full of foot soot

In the birthday suit

The shadow is hidden

Behind

Inside faithful brethren

Contestants to heaven

Hobnobbers fallen

Power happy

Undisclosed

Walking empty

Insolvent consciences

It’s tempting

So tempting

The shadow is hidden

Deep down

Your haste

Fast hate

Shining gold

Appearing bold

But a hole in whole

The nakedness of humanity

Unhearably loud

So rich in vanity

And

Delicious ambiguity

Shadow

In the birthday suit

By Erick Otieno

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Erick Otieno

………………………………………………………………

A CRY FOR MY MAMA LAND

by Mukami Mbaabu

It is 1.50 a.m.

And sleep evades me….because I weep for my motherland!

Sons of Africa,

Daughters of Africa,

Awaken: you have slumbered so long.

Look at the cloudless skies that cover your motherland,

Look at the leafless trees….the barrenness that fills the atmosphere

Look at the evolving deserts, that swallow up your birthright

Listen to the cry of your sons and daughters,

Empty stomachs, jiggered feet, tatters for clothes…..barely enough education if any

Feel the desperation of this land,

Feel the emptiness that engulfs our cradle

See the vanishing green,

See the greed that exists,

oh daughters and sons of Africa!

For how long shall we sit and watch?

While Africa destroys herself?

For how long shall we be divided on the basis of our ethnicity?

Instead of using out diversity as our strength?

For how long shall we be misguided: by our very own kinsmen?

Instead of standing for our own convictions?

For how long shall micro-nationalism take the place of nationhood?

For how long shall we be brainwashed? manipulated? Brainwashed?

For how long will our collective hard-worn freedom and independence be a luxury of only few?

Tell me daughters and sons of Africa, for how long, shall we wallow in the miasma of poverty?

Not anymore, sons and daughters of Africa, nay not anymore!

Because all I need is several more hearts sold to the cause of this continent.

A few souls who will dare dream, of a land that mama Africa could be!

A few who will raise their voices in the streets and condemn: evil, greed, selfishness,

At the expense of their comfort, and even their lives!

Just dream with me,

Mmmh…aaaah….Economic stability, oneness, food security,

Sound leadership, quality and affordable education, employment opportunities,

Good affordable healthcare, good governance policies, …….clean air!

Look at our land, beautiful, divine!

The proud white peaked mountains,

The meandering bold rivers,

The ever peaceful lakes,

The diverse wild life,

The rich culture and heritage,

The diversity of her people,

The dynamism and creativity,

The artstic value that equals none other

A land so battered…..but still ever so giving!

If you are a true son of Africa

If you are a true daughter of Africa

I dare you to pause…and think of what mother Africa can be:ought to be!

And purpose in your spirit to break war on anyone who intimidates your mama

Raise the spear of resolution high,

And the sword of determination higher,

For ours is a land we must jealously guard.

You and me….are all we need.

To dream, and to actualize our dream…….

Of setting Africa ‘s record straight

We have borrowed long enough,

Made ourselves look like we are lesser of the lot

We let our pride be trampled over

But that ends about now

I sell my soul to Mama Africa

Because the potential I see in this land: baffles me!

The resources we have been blessed with are second to none:

And the good lord has a soft spot for Africa,

And he heeds our cry, and that of our children

I witness how strong we are:

How strong a resolve we have

How versatile we are

How brave we are

How tolerant we are:

Sons and Daughters of Africa I salute you

From Libya to Ghana

From South Africa to Egypt

From Chad to Algiers

From Kenya to Namibia

From Mauritius to Mozambique

We are one nation,

A unique people

Lets not give up on our motherland,

But in our own Individual selves…acknowledge the power we possess

To heal our abused mother:

Let’s nurse her Daughters of Africa,

Let’s nurse her wounds

Lets fight for her sons of Africa

Until she can be able to return the love once more.

In your little ways……you can do big things….or do small things in a big way

Lets fight this worm called corruption

Lat’s strangle the thread of ethnic and religious politics that divide us

Lets fight for our motherland.

Arise and shine Africa

For your light has come,

And your sons and daughters gather to coma back and fight for you

Raise your shoulders high,

And rejoice in your being!

Shine, shine, shine……

For you best days are ahead

Dawn will break forth soon,

And the birth of a new era will wash you anew

But the battle has not been won yet…..but it will be over soon!

You know what ails you, and you have the right weapons….

So seize the moment….and free thine self out of thine own slavery!

You ungrateful selfish brothers and sisters of ours

You who only think of yourselves

Of grabbing more of our land, or inflinging on the rights of the minority,

Of using public resources for your won pleasure,

You who belittle us, and fatten your bank accounts while ours diminish……..your term ends

now!

Slowly this message will reverberate thought the land

And sooner or later,

We shall catch up with you!

You have taken too much from us

Its payback time: for all the assault on mama Africa

You shall not cower us anymore

We shall not let you intimidate us

I maybe one,

But here and now: I will start

In the hope that my fight for mother Africa,

Will create ripples of peace, love, unity of purpose and courage in they that hear this gospel,

I love you mama Africa, I will love you with my very last breath

And though iam one, I will leave a legacy for Africa and her children,

Or die trying……

So help me God!

By Emily Mukami

All rights Reserved to the poet ©EmilyMukami

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At the Sea Front in Lamu

The moon shyly hides

Behind a speck of cloud

Peeping every now and then

Illuminating the dark sleepy mass

That was lapping gently at my feet.

The racing boats and dhows

Rock from side to side

Locked in an embrace with

And patting the back of the sleepy mass.

Cold refreshing breeze

Caresses my body

All around are couples

Hand clasped in another.

In the distance a flute

And then drums

Monotonous beats

Shattering the perfect peace.

As I advance towards it

I get a glimpse of whites

No movement except for sticks

Held in outstretched hands

As they rise and fall

And the dance of the notes

Stuck in the magnificent Kofias in the breeze

A thousand, a hundred and fifty shilling notes.

Frantic cameramen and donkey taxis

Seem to jostle for attention

Or just for someone to pick

And time slowly ticks on

As the night slowly slips by

By Bidu Ibrahim

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Bidu Ibrahim

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**full blast**

//some things only sound gud in full blast

turned up loud till tha volume hit max

xcept wen is ur mama, wife o boo-gal

shoutin unrevocable slurs at ur rude acts

coz then u impelled to do a MUTE touch

otherwise ur cool vibes turn 2 battles of whine…

dig tha loud musik, loathe tha yellin voice

simple diference btwn tha music n tha noise//

By Atandi(Shaka Zulu)

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Atandi

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THE MODEL

By Eric Gichira

Her words are so effective

And her charms so addictive;

Yet beyond her experience

Is a resounding resilience

They say that she’s descent

They even like her accent;

But she’s just too keen

For she’s a beauty queen

Beaming with such confidence

She’s also full of innocence;

She explores each dimension

To attain her progression

She knows her destination

She’s full of determination;

Yet always an attraction

Is her sense of fashion.

by ERIC GICHIRA

All rights Reserved to the poet ©ERIC GICHIRA

………………………………………………………………

JILTED

i feel like a Job

only i cursed God

and die to regret it

like the world

made me anti people

like you stabbed me

through the heart

and i die

cursing my love for you

cursing your lies for me

cursing with a severed tongue

cursing when i should have held my tounge

and i hold it

in the arms of my regrets

in the cacophony

of suppositions

you know the world is nasty

and am a victim

just a victim

By Otiato Guguyu

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Otiato Guguyu

………………………………………………………………
pick-up checklist (at a kenyan morgue)

death certainty

check!

corpse identity

check!

public presentability

check!

private’s availability

shock!

that thing

boys pursue it

girls deny it

men enjoy it

wife avail it

priests evade it

i could use it

crumbs

in the passing seasons

time grows her wings

as the fog of misty mornings

by sunny rays

so whilst your hour glass

streams those sandy crystals

stay true to your dreams

and have another christmas

every time you see christmas

By Fred Kikete

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Fred Kikete

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Curses of an honest pen…. (Media gagging)

it is a curse to be a good write,

for you cannot wrong your right,

or rather is it right your wrong?

bolted in ink to last eons long,

with secrets worth fortunes kept,

away safely from fire and theft,

words convicting to an open cage,

restrained to write but another page,

paper feeling the touch of pen,

both to show the face of men,

who’s smiles do very glow,

giving only an outward show,

writings do but only do tell,

tales of ring,ding,dong,bell,

revealing the thought and feel of man,

is what can no longer be done,

no written song can be sung,

no cracked bell can be rung,

to tell of the act of dear old man…

By: Benson Njuguna.

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Benson Njuguna

………………………………………………………………

I stand before you naked, my truth showing.

I stand naked before you,

hoping that you may see

that even with my murk and goo

there’s a completely different me

I stand naked before you holding nothing back

but even naked before you

surety, believe and trust I lack

before you naked I stand

knowing judgement I won’t receive

but like I had a sainthood band

the gracious look you’d give.

Naked I stand to you ever more

hoping that someday as you look

you might see what’s there before

an unedited, honest open book….

By: Benson Njuguna.

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Benson Njuguna

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Ak47 over the chemist counter.by Mwana Nakadhalika

A man crossed my kales garden

In the morning –

at noon,

and traversed across again

In the evening;

I got sick of his antics and traits.

My neighbors’ child once

Splashed muddy waters,

Dirtying –

My polished leather shoes

Again –

My white calico sheet

Became a victim,

Then my walls, my doors

And my everything.

I began growing ulcers

I remember a day

A long one after hustles and bustles;

Half way on the zebra crossing

A motorist came by –

Riding high, honking and clogging

And finally found myself

Lying prostrate on the road.

I developed a serious headache

Then I saw an etiquette figure –

Rose to speak;

Boasting of his tribe superior

Demeaning my race

And ridiculed the origin of my face.

I felt nausea

There was a time

When I went to get a present

For my girlfriends birthday,

It was a golden bracelet –

Yet when I got home,

It was a piece of rope;

I had been corned

I suffered a heart attack.

Enough was enough,

I was sick of trespasses

And got an AK 47

To settle scores;

Thought had gotten a cure

But exploded the world wars

With the first spilling to the second

The initiation of the civil wars

With child soldiers in Sierra Leone

The cry of helpless women

In Liberia, Angola, Somalia, Sudan

Eruption of post election violence

From Nairobi and the hinter world

Suicide bombings in the Far East

rise of Hitlers and Idi Amins

And progression into weapons of mass

Destructions

All in the name of a cure

And now I hold pieces of the world

In my hands.

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Mwana Nakadhalika

………………………………………………………………

BLIND BEGGER by Joseph Kogi

Hard working we are

Each day,

From early morning till dusk,

Rainy or sunny,

We stand and wait,

For a shilling or more

In city streets.

But

Who can tell our wishes?

Who can tell our pain?

Who can tell our anger and frustrations?

But who cares,

“They need to be hardworking like others”

They say,

But who are others?

The unblind?

They only see our troubles,

They don’t see our struggle.

They think all we see is darkness

But our imagination

Of people, trees, flowers, birds,

Nature and world,

Is far beyond what they see,

We see with our ears, touch

And our hearts.

We know misery,

We know rejection, brutality,

Fear, anger, hunger and perseverance,

But have hope,

Hope for a second life,

When we will be

Free from these streets,

When we will finally

See the light that

We saw with our hearts,

With our eyes.

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Joseph Kogi

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HUNGER by Caleb Onyango

Make my stomach rumble

intestine entangle

deflate my tummy

like a balloon

then dip into the abdomen
dissolve my weight

like an architect

illustrate my ribs

then slash my flesh

to magnify the skull

arrest my energy

pellagra spread like allergy

compromise my circulation

open my eyes wide

cut respiration

then disable inhalation
away take my spirit

what’s left is

not worth rigor mortis

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Caleb Onyango

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What Africa Needs by Serah Kiburu

I will sit by the fire tonight,

Here under the stars,

Here surrounded by the desert sands.

And in my hand I will hold a pen,

And on my lap I will place my scroll,

And from my heart I will write.

I have no rubber close by,

See sometimes reality is too harsh to be wiped out,

Too grim to be painted otherwise

The moos, the neighs, the crows are my ambience,

The giggles, the stories, the murmurs my music

The cold desert breeze my aura as I write

Still I seek no comfort or warmth or shelter

No safety or fun in numbers

Because someone needs to write…for Africa

This is an ode for a beautiful Mother,

Strong enough to birth a gazillion cultures

Loving enough to contain them all in one continent

This is a sonnet for an Amazing Land

Capable enough to attract investors

Generous enough to share its wealth with them

This is an elegy for a Home that nurtures in pain

And seldom enjoys the fruits of her labor

Other continents are greener, after all

This is a poem for One that feeds on dust

Every time another African buys wheels

Big enough to drive them away from her

This is a verse for she that bears it all

Quietly and bravely, hopefully

Waiting for a different generation

A generation like ours

One that is capable

Still one that refuses to simply

Let go of pride and work…

What is poverty if we cannot fight it?

What is good health if we cannot provide it?

What is development if we cannot envision it?

Propagate it, live it, give it to a land so deserving?

Will we all grow up here,

Play in the mud and rocky trails

Swim in the rivers and catch fish

Until we are old enough

To erode the soils,

Mine the rocks,

Pollute the rivers

Kill the fish?

Will we never look back

And pay homage to a land that

Bore us,

Taught us,

Owned us?

Are we really so ungrateful

As to kill Africa?

She who we are

She who defines us

She who holds us dear

See worse than my writing in the cold

Is the thought of what we put her through

Always taking from her

Never quite giving back-

Not even in part;

Do we ever go back

To pay our tributes?

To give credit where it’s due?

To just say Thank You, Africa.

She is poor because we rob her

She is third-world because we drain her

She is malnourished because we are bloated

She is weak and sick because we won’t heal her.

What Africa needs

Is you and I;

The Africans

To own up to our misgivings

To own her as our own

To agree nothing will ever change

If we keep doing lame things

Over and over again

Beyond war and corruption

Beyond drought and floods

Beyond our selfish ambitions

Our misguided will to possess

We are the custodians of this land.

And beyond today,

Beyond our time on earth,

Africa will be.

So she needs for us to grow up

Straighten our legs

Iron out our muscle

Put our heads together,

Our differences aside

And give her a refurbishing

She so badly needs

An extreme make over so to speak.

It all start with you,

Yes you and i.

What Africa needs

Is you and I,

The Africans.

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Serah Kiburu

………………………………………………………………

SONS OF SUN by Vitamin K

Your silence is too loud for us,

That we can hear a pin drop,

At the peak of your noises,

History of you haunts us,

And your future is so selfish,

Remember home,

Remember Kush land and Timbuktu,

Remember sweet Zenji paradise,

When buffalos were hunted,

To be made slaves in foreign land,

And solders of lost hope,

When made victims, you became victors

We mourned on the stone less graves

Of your forefathers,

But you made it a playing ground,

Hating on your real mother,

Who stays in the bush….

Swelling at your stepmothers place,

In the cities of lights and rides,

She didn’t betray you son,

She was forced to; it was against her will,

She was raped and robbed,

Killed by but still surviving

Traders reaped from her womb’s gifts

Read history and understand,

Know where you came from and your destiny

Show your mama some love,

Love your brothers

Home is ever sweet haven,

Bring home some stars

On the dark side of the moon

Good night

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Kevin Karuga

………………………………………………………………

From the first time your my mum my sweetheart told me the news

my emotions ran high and i got confused

was i ready to be a dad?

to lead you in the hurdles that come through life’s path?

these questions arose in my mind

whether i would be a man enough

but i honestly loved your mum and against wrong

i chose right and promised myself never to sleep up

as a father, i will try my best not to disappoint you

as it is a full time job, love is what i will show you

to my baby boy, Israel will be your name

and i will initiate a bond that your mum will envy

on my knees, i beg to God

to let me be a good daddy to you

to give you what money cant buy

love, knowledge and discipline

a gentleman is what i expect from you

to pull chairs, hold doors and respect your elders

but if you cross that line, i will test your butt

to my baby girl,Maya will be your identity

and for sure you will be the prettiest of all.. a princess

how do i know?look at your mum and you will agree

a friend you will be to me

dignity, respect and honor is what i expect from you

always to say ‘thank you’ or ‘am sorry’ if you wrong someone

i will make sure you have that self esteem

that will enable you have a positive attitude towards life

and a cross the table having a game of chess

i will teach you life’s lessons with its stress

throughout life people will make you mad

disrespect you and treat you bad

let God deal with the things they do

because hate in your heart will consume you too

and when the world attack and you get off the track

your mum and i will tell you one fact

that no matter what happens we will always hold your back

i love your mum so much

so if you stress her or hurt her

i will be hurt and i wont hesitate to test your butt

thats how much i love her

one day i will tell you how i met her

only if you promise not to tell her

a ‘top secret’ ‘eyes only’ between you and i

my child i cant wait to hold you in my arms

i have seven months remaining

patience is what i will exercise

but i still wonder what you gonna be like

till that time

i will be with you and your mum, that i Promised

she is the best gift i ever got from God..

but she doesn’t know that yet…one day i will tell her

i love you my unborn child

By Okhwa Wanjala Nabutola

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Okhwa Wanjala Nabutola

………………………………………………………………

MBITHE B. SHE HAD EYES

Like the sun

Eyes of our hearts

Gelatinous bright

Yet pitch dark and comely

An so shrines,

I erected

Supplicated to her oracles

Prostrated before austerity

And my mortal mind

Conjured prophesies

Beheld premonitions

Of bliss

Of explosive passion

With those eyes

I reached

At my gaping ribs

And wrenched out my heart

Then offered

A bloody willing sacrifice

And my pain

Self inflicted

Hoped to see those eyes

Gladdened

To enkindle them

Ablaze with lust

To consume a confounded me

Yet

Yet, it tearfully closed

I couldn’t understand

I was confused

Whirlwinds played with my reason

My soul was bleeding

I hoped the eyes would give me healing

But they shut

I die thus

by Otiato Guguyu

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Otiato Guguyu

………………………………………………………………

CHANGE

upon his visage boasts sweat, industry an upheld virtue.

firm stature is exhibited, hard labour an accepted custom.

a time for toil yearns, wheat and other victuals for the future.

every stride to strive in burning heat, a quest out of perpetual penury.

feelings of disillusionment eminent, in the brink of a huge fall.

life such a baffling puzzle, everyday hustle inevitably knows no end.

a new dawn presents opportunity, quite in a rush for elevation.

an orison heard audibly, benedictions befalling a mortal.

reverted in such haste such distaste, it were best in prior times.

a new sense of belonging looming ,adaptation of wanting predisposition.

amidst all the experience, hardly a thought in modesty lines.

amnesia having set in, pristine of new life in no time.

integrity eroded ferociously, candidacy annihilated in totality.

how mankind does change, indeed swiftly we tend to forget.

By Ian Munywe

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Ian Munywe

………………………………………………………………

SMILING

A sweet way

to start your day

motivating your soul to pray

God,in whatever He may

be presenting your way

blessings and more blessings

stimulants to keep you smiling

A smile is a curve

that straighten everything

a white dove

blending the bright sky

making clean heart ignite

brushing pain like bristles

when you smile a little

the whole galaxy twinkles

A cheap style to maintain

Great Nile to contain

washing away the pain

from the shallow Victoria

to the deep Red Sea

By Ale Abo

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Ale Abo

………………………………………………………………

The hookers of Mlolongo

They melt into the crowded dance floors

Dancing and looking, looking and dancing,

Sizing up potential prey

Revealing the promise of hot flesh –

Through the unholy slits punctuating their shiny skirts.

They negotiate, not for long –

a discount here, a shrug there

A snappy slap here

To a short time client who won’t pay.

Routinely, they wade up the same stairs

Are slain on the same tired creaky beds

Through noisy nights and quiet, windy days.

They roll with truck drivers,

Soapy sweat fusing with petrol fumes.

They roll with traveling salesmen and stranded bus boys

They roll with the poor county council askaris

Sometimes trading insults as they undress

Bearing drunken confessions of peri-urban lust.

They roll with naive self-ordained pastors and arrogant Imams

Sneering as they help shed the holy robes and turbans

And hymn books and shiny crucifixes

From anointed flesh, burning with earthly desires.

They roll with politicians and their zombie-like aides

Listening to complex liturgies – on the constitution and tax cuts

Employment indices and devolution of government

Long range vs short term development strategies…

The hookers of Mlolongo – tribeless

Shameless beyond embarrassment

Melting into the winding blocks of parked trucks – whistling and giggling

Giggling and rolling….under the trucks…..on the cargo……

Sweating, freezing, sighing, sneezing, shuddering, cursing,

Sometimes conceiving ……….and aborting….

By Pascal Masila Mailu
All rights Reserved to the poet ©Pascal Masila Mailu

………………………………………………………………

These intimations
She is touching you again

Touch being all of your sight

You step so carefully, so afraid

Of another deep and empty fall

Inwards into another void

If you knock her off-balance

Afraid of grabbing her

Too hard, lingering to the memory

Of why you are still there

Loitering together in the small hours

Holding onto the ropes of tenderness

Trying to reach those glistening

Beaches in each other’s hearts

Two moonlit people, you face

Each other, fingers reaching

Lost in the forests of delights

Stroking each others cheeks

Dressing each other’s with

The cloth of your needs.

So much love and

Too many things to do with it

You both work, it seems

From love and need

Perhaps silent, the consolation

Is, not being loved, but

Rather you would love

Such extraordinary range

Touching your human core

You believe in this range

For you to meet.
But she is gathering you again

To your past, the flagpole of

Your past, asking you to go

And you, you have to go

Like a passing spirit, a genie

Like a dream. You dream

You will dream and you wont wake up

You will sip through your dream

Your ambition is this

You will stay away, away

Keeping your secrets hidden

You have to feel nothing

You will stay away

Like rains in the draught ear

So that you can only see her light

Brightening up the skies

Casting your image in gold

In the dream you sleep, you sleep

Dissolve into its silhouette

And empty out again, bleeding

Spread yourself out, spreading

Embroider yourself in the effete

Of darkness, in its black gullet

You love. It is now filled with

The dark blood of your heart

That pulls the heavy ropes

Of your heart, listening, hoping

To hear an answer of

Water, beneath those black

Stones of fear, in your heart

Those skipping stones are

Sinking into the river bed

Of your heart, disappearing down

It seems into subduction zones

Like the oceanic rocks

These intimations, endless as

Raindrops, your road slipping

Away unnoticed. You mail

Your heart out to the island

Of her silences. But no dribble

Of your pulse will survive

In your heart, but these intimations.

Hovering in these desolate horizons

By TENDAI R MWANAKA

All rights Reserved to the poet ©TENDAI R MWANAKA

………………………………………………………………

THOUGHTS

By Eric Gichira

Thoughts shared

Thoughts unshared

Thoughts paired

Thoughts repaired…

Thoughts to reinstate

Thoughts to stimulate

Thoughts putting actions to test

Thoughts stirring emotions to unrest…

Thoughts without a heritage

Thoughts seeking to damage

Thoughts of expansion

Thoughts of tension…

Dangerous thoughts:

Thoughts in you and me!

By ERIC GICHIRA

All rights Reserved to the poet ©ERIC GICHIRA

………………………………………………………………

Beauty Poise

Women bleach golden hues, dreaming of creamy skin,

Balance out my face they dream as bleach leaks under their skin,

In the West girls bronze their faces, dreaming of deep gold,

So they want to be mannequins,

They pluck at their eyebrows, draw neat arches onto their faces,

I shall arch my eyebrows to give me poise, they dream,

Ending up looking like Edward Munch’s The Scream,

Spend a thousand dollars on a bag, a barrier a badge of wealth,

Shoes called Jimmi Choos, to make them stalk,

Pull up their faces held together with stitches,

Like Rahl Dahl’s the witches,

Suck out the fat,

Suck in the fat,

Bigger breasts,

Smaller breasts,

All for beauty for poise,

Inject their lips, or steal for some cheap cosmetic fix,

A pout like a trout, garish colours never to compete with the master artist,

Put leeches on my skin,

Break my feet,

Who has the last laugh?

All these vanities are plain insanities,

For you will age, and have lost so many, many years,

All for beauty,

How amusing it is to see the truth;

The actualization of the mythical subliminal advertising images,

All the secrets lie in one simple example of a woman,

See her now,

At the door of her humble home, waving a good bye,

her face is lined with a thousand smiling lines,

The children of the town gaze up at her,

With delighted cries for in her face they see a map of kindness.

Our history mapped upon our faces, an open portrait,

At seventy-two her skin is bright, from years of good honest work,

And simple food straight from the Earth,

Fruits of her labor,

She has the gift of true beauty, for there is always balance,

What she has sown she has reaped, pools of light, eyes so bright,

A thousand stories easily imagined, in her movements,

Without the airs and graces of the city panthers,

She has no need for masks her beauty is untainted,

A candle burning bright of a soul light,

You know her I know her.

By Jemma Nyaga
All rights Reserved to the poet ©Jemma Nyaga

………………………………………………………………

BLACKENING THE LIGHT

Will you plunge us into darkness?

Or redeem us from the light?

The light which is blinding?

Dark holes line our paths

You are twins in torment

We are grass to be trodden on

Came together in hurting love

You are afraid of severance

Because you don’t know what it holds

You have matured, from cool and liberation

To ignorant and obnoxious

Shape our history, into a nightmare

Which we will forever try to rise from

And forever fall back into

Don’t you know, the unjust law is no law at all

When you rise on the podiums

All over the country

Call scribes and cameras to show your faces

To proclaim your righteousness

Amass the masses, to follow your lead

Like obedient sheep, who think of none?

While I need no weapons, having the words

To highlight our disappointment

What will the common Joe do?

Voiceless and flattened, how will you hear the cry?

They say, the more things change

The more they remain the same

Aint this a live display of this philosophy

Which we secretly know it true

While we loudly proclaim it can’t happen

We have moved from tyranny to disguised tyranny

When the light shines again, don’t try to blacken it

By Erykk Kiv

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Erykk Kiv

………………………………………………………………

A crazy ‘just a friend’

One that wants to know what you are all about

and who travels through time with the memories

Helps you shade your worries with the best stories that raise you to glory

With a lending hand on all occasions

Maneuver at the will of your dictation

Always sorry when you stumble

At your anger, always humble

A crazy ‘just a friend’ sick to this words

Hoping one day for tall

Memories tainted from wall to wall

Takes your laughter for lull of the soul

And your misgivings as just a faul

Just friendship, that time had to nurture

Spirit to the soul,and so your manure,

Not perfect but help build you up sure,

Always in need to be your dear with a worthy chance to caution

Push you when you cease motion

And definitely dissuade out of a poor notion

Bring you to order when you are in commotion

Friendship that is never a game of the mind,

Geared kindness towards infinity,

Offers you a walks home with your eyes blind

Dress you for the race and cheers your win.

Never takes your ambitions as ridiculous.

By Augustus Kiptalam

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Augustus Kiptalam

………………………………………………………………

IT IS ME by Shinge Githaiga

From afar he approaches me

Sways towards me

Still eyeing me

Head shakes at me

Awaits a signal from me

Struggles with his demons

His mortal enemy, which is me

Like black tape he is stuck to me

Cant dare resist me

Halts in front of me

Mesmerized by me

Awaits approval from me

Time to beseech me

Relish his desires, which are me

His mind betrays for me

Tempted to try me

For his salvation is me

Reaches out to me

Attempts to resist all of me

Ignore what he sees in me

This shattering force, which is me

Lost in a world which is me

Can never understand me

Final utterances to me

Can’t live without me

So…embrace me

Worship me, love me

Your only curse, which is me

All rights Reserved to the poet © Shinge Githaiga

………………………………………………………………

POOR MOTHER:SAFE HARBOUR by Timothy Nyabwengi

Step by step I watched her walk by,

Head held above than all the rest high,

Not a drop nor a pint of her being shy,

Her round body not only her thigh,

Looked any frightening to even a fly,

Neither could the prosecutor call her sly,

Only serenity around her seemed to ply.

Her pride and joy was only in them,

It was in her like her own heart beat,

As time does memory lane flit,

She has not yet forgotten her fleet,

And cosy in her life they all fit,

Well kept and maintained by her heat,

The world just sees not her weary feet.

I see her all day, every day bee busy,

Maybe i will toast to her when am not lousy,

She may over time grow rusty and noisy,

Bubbly she glows under always too fizzy,

The safe harbour of composure when am frenzy,

You may mistake her interest in them as being nosy,

I still want her to be here with me, dear Lizzy.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Timothy Nyabwengi

………………………………………………………………

BLACK PANTHER by Jeanne Fiedler

The velvet

Black cat…

Look closely…

Study the

Spots…the

Leopard black

Spots…

They’re called

Panthers and Leopards.

Strong and mighty

But going out fast –

They might already

Be lost.

Sad/sorrow/

Splendorous beings/

Symbolic

For a Civil Rights

Movement and a

Football team.

Melanin fur/

They’re mean/

Men manipulated

(trading,crops).

Jeanne Fiedler

Black Panther

Keep these cute

Creatures close

To your heart.

They are sweet

Animals, not

Treacherous

Black cats.

Love them…

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Jeanne Fiedler

………………………………………………………………

THE BEAUTIFUL SHORES OF MOMBASA by Caleb Onyango.

I take a stroll through nature

with my bare feet against

the white sand

bare chest against

the cool breeze.

My arms perpendicularly stretched

ears,listening to the frictional drum

from my unbuttoned flagging shirt.

My mind purely free

and,senses reduced to three.

I smell purity

of God-made-beauty

watch tides and wave

like human when they behave

attention i pay less

to anything worth stress.

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Caleb Onyango.

………………………………………………………………

ACCESS SUCCESS by Gibson Maina

It’s been a steep slippery terrain

Climbing up the mountain

But by faith being certain

That the capability you contain

And if the diligence you maintain

Success you will obtain

Remembher those hard times

Burning the midnight oil

Remember those hard times

Struggling with educational roadblocks

It’s been a tough rough road

But holding a golden trophy

It’s a war well fought

By the humble and the gentle

The diligent,patient and passistent

This is just the last battle

And the battle to conquest

Of all the soldiers you are the best

From the east to the west

So show the rest

You are the best of the best

Sharpen your spear

Put on our armour

Access success

In excess, no less

Never guess you will mess

Don’t fail out of fear

Spectators we are here

United to a common prayer

We alL cheer as you gear

Towards the victory that’s near.

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Gibson Maina

………………………………………………………………

AFRICA. by Okombo John

Lovely daughter of the moon

with skin black like the darkness of night

and a heart lit like noon.

Who clipped your wings like a caged bird

and took from you the songs of daylight?

Who stole the grapes from your vineyard

and tore the pages of your rhymes?

The whirlwinds of myths and legend

drift me all the way to the great oldtimes

when your soil would soak with a baking smell

every time the rains fell.

Now your headscarf is wet with dew

and the braids of your hair damp from the mist.

Your beauty is now only known to a few

and your mind is cuffed by its wrist.

Your heart is drenched with sorrow

like tears wet on the face of a leper

watching your children sell each day of tomorrow

for a bowl of bean soup and pepper.

Yet still, in the language of my father

I pray for you and your land

that your brood you may again gather

and stretch forth your hand

to touch the promises on the garment of your God.

No more should your dreams flicker

nor your lamp burn on borrowed oil

for your name is Africa

a flower blooming on graveyard soil.

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Okombo John

………………………………………………………………
I wonder why the caged birds sing By Dunn K. Dunn.

With,

Fueling and oily petroleum prices,

Skyrocketing food prices,

Camping internally displaced persons,

And welcomed daily street arsons,

I wonder why the caged birds sing.

With,

Fasting drought stricken communities

Signing laws to surprise media activities

Harassment and unlawful distensions

I wonder why the caged birds sing.

With,

Eagles refusing to hear our pleas,

Our money fattening accounts overseas,

Thriving dodgy multi-billion schemes,

And arrest of activists in the streets,

I wonder why the caged birds sing.

With,

Inefficient hydroelectric power,

Water institutions that can’t shower,

Birds growing weaker, and weaker,

And eagles in the house getting richer,

I wonder why the caged birds sing.

With,

A win decided by bullets not bullots,

August eagles visiting street harlots,

Eagles that cannot pay taxes,

While birds staring from all axis,

I wonder why the caged birds sing.

With,

Chief-eagles vulgar language full of dirty tricks,

Eagles hovering around chicks,

Rampant cheating in exam institutions,

And eagles harvesting from chick prostitutions,

I wonder why the caged birds sing.

With,

Traffic police making some bitter hay,

Birds trafficking yet not away,

Street urchins feeling hunger pungs,

And each day a slum springs,

I wonder why the caged birds sing.

With,

Poor medical services and facilities,

Loose lips that increase tribal hostilities,

Illegal gangs that threaten security,

Which eagles use to gain publicity,

I wonder why the caged birds sing.

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Dunn K. Dunn.

………………………………………………………………

PURE DEMOCRACY by Caleb Onyango

Minority rule the majority

since number is the identity

Two is greater than seven

just because its even

if this isn’t raven

then whats democracy?

We worn by one

rule by gun

with the command;shoot to kill

no media captivity

or demonstration activity

will change our governance

This is democracy!

Jobs circulate within us

the power is ours

our tribe is in power

lets eat this’ the hour

don’t allow strangers

this is for us by us!

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Caleb Onyango

………………………………………………………………
SALT AND UGALI by Cyril osongo

Salt and ugali

Is it the same from Kenya to Mali

That remains to be seen surely

For now its salt and ugali

Poor me

Should I stop and flee?

But where to take my plee?

For now its salt and ugali

Sow now

To reap,is it a noun?

But the rains were not to be found

On my table,is salt and ugali

Will tomorrow come?

Don’t know,add the sum

And see if it will come

With salt and ugali,dancing on my thumbs

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Cyril osongo

………………………………………………………………

Mushtaq by mohamed sheikh abdiaziz.

True love they say

waits, waits and waits

but for whom and for how long

i ask

For JC to come back so that

we can all declare our faiths

For the oceans to dry

so that we can provide that

life saving drop of water

only we have

or for humanity to come

to its senses and stop

this non sense called

L o v e

All rights Reserved to the poet ©mohamed sheikh abdiaziz

………………………………………………………………

The vultures By Pascal Masila Mailu

There he lay, on the soiled grass – moaning, dying.

They descended – like vultures, really

Crowded him – from a distance.

He kicked, gasped for air, eventually froze.

They looked sideways – with compelling urgency

moved nearer – sure strides,

devoured his remains – with no urgency.

Like vultures, really.
All rights Reserved to the poet ©Pascal Masila Mailu

………………………………………………………………

THE STILL MIND by Percy Thairu

In the stillness of your mind,

Lies an unchained divinity.

You really are one of a kind,

Bound by fetters of conformity.

Society strives to keep you blind,

To your own brilliant creativity.

Their standards so low you find,

You’re damned to mediocrity.

Free yourself from the grind,

Redeem your slain dignity.

Time to stop and rewind,

Start with a little authenticity.

Spread your wings and unbind,

Those dreams they call depravity.

Reach within you and leave behind,

Your numbing fear of uncertainty.

A little secret to help you unwind,

The still mind is infinite, creating new reality.

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Percy Thairu

………………………………………………………………

A MUSICAL ROMANCE by Percy Thairu

Lingering in her mind like a melody,

He kissed her soul with a tender tune,

In her heart he struck a pleasant chord.

Now she sways her body to his rhythm,

As they hit those delightful crescendos.

In the silence he softly whispers a song,

And she’s trying to pick up the chorus.

But it seems she’s a little off key,

Like she hears a different drum beat.

So they’re struggling for some harmony,

As each plays their own instrument.

Question is, who gets to write the manuscript?

Both got the rhyme and the flow but,

When in sync its a perfect symphony.

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Percy Thairu

………………………………………………………………

MELTING by Percy Thairu

Says he’s too weak to take the plunge again,

Plus he just got out of the pouring rain.

So forgive him if he seems like a skeptic,

Still remembers where his heart went septic.

The stench of betrayal still strikes a cord,

Love’s a luxury he simply cant afford.

All his words are filled with deathly gloom,

Cause he’s listening to the voice of doom.

Thinks he’ll lose again and gives up the fight,

And for sanity’s sake he plans to take flight.

Right now he’s indulging himself in you,

But inside he knows he could never be true.

Trying to swim on the surface, no diving,

Doesn’t realize that on this ride, you’re driving.

And like still waters you run real deep,

So you slowly put his fears to sleep.

Now he’s losing control quite willingly,

Starts to feel alive again so grudgingly.

Like a flame you catch onto his steely heart,

And your warmth melts off all the hurt.

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Percy Thairu

………………………………………………………………

WOMEN! BY BENSON NJUGUNA

To the woman who bore me,

may she for all eternity be,

in blessed serenity,

To the woman who made me smile,

may she be all the while,

so gracious in her style.

To the woman who is my wife,

be safe from all strife,

and only know a lovely beautiful life.

To the woman who is my daughter,

may her before,now and after,

be filled with sweet laughter.

To the woman who is you,

be appreciated for your hue,

for life is meaningless without you…

All rights Reserved to the poet ©BENSON NJUGUNA

………………………………………………………………
Remember Me by Timothy Wainaina

Sing a ballad for me,

In the quiet of the night.

Sing lullabies for me

Tell bedtime stories, me

When sleep flees me,

And dreams take to flight.

When night like a pilgrim,

In a black hooded cloak,

With warmth for a lover,

Shall enter so bold

Pray be a dreamer,

Of our memories of old.

The sweetness of the pain

When thee Cupid claimed,

The magic of his portion,

Oh, the beauty of his wound!

His rugged blessed arrow

I beseech forever adore.

Dream memories of old:

by the stream we first met

The rocks like men of old,

stars winking, like naughty peers

The crescent smiling, like a content mother.

The waters humming, our sacred love song.

Like a young sun at dawn,

Beautiful and warming,

And the full moon at harvest

A face full of promise

A thousand stars in the night,

Is the vastness of your mystery.

Twinkle, twinkle little star,

Lovely eyes in the dark,

Gently, gently in your arms

Hold me closer to your heart,

Softly, softly like a babe,

Lull me slowly till I sleep.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Timothy Wainaina

………………………………………………………………

Farewell florence flowers by wilson manyuira

fly with your kite i made

floods of blessings will follow

flowing in streams of joy

for the gifts packed for you

when you go, fair well florence flowers

by your help, i grew to man

bred with you, harmony prevailed

bored not playing pocket carrom

basket-full from market you brought

bringing beautiful balls bought for me

when you go, fair well florence flowers

dear dad ever trustful

delivered promise of husband

dared it,dated and courted

dreams so sweet i dream for you

daddy’s daughter do marry dan

when you go, fair well florence flower

All rights Reserved to the poet © wilson manyuira

………………………………………………………………

Inferiority by wilson manyuira

touchy, touchy they are

ever dancing our fingers

on them, curves we curve

enjoys licking our lips

and tempted tentacles trickles

so wild ever are we

never do we give ‘em chance

tears apart they weak being

qreedily siphons little strength

wails, mourns,pleads

and sometimes

just sometimes moans

while we growls…groans

All rights Reserved to the poet © wilson manyuira

………………………………………………………………

Flower by wilson manyuira

So pleasing to the eye

Making one, truth and lie

It massages the heart

So masterful with skillful art

Bringing feelings of tender

And the aroma

Arousing tides of love

Even hardcore often soften

When you touch

Tickling sensational on skin you feel

When you pluck it

It blossoms on your palm

But when you leave it

Alone, it withers.

All rights Reserved to the poet © wilson manyuira

………………………………………………………………

My gambler by wilson manyuira

Mourning often we tend

Misery generous to lend

I remember this young girl

Who brightened I life was dull

Nature tells me forget

‘Ati’ I gained the best I can get

But my feelings……opposes sought of change

Wondering why, so small my range

Even I deserve fun

Not being always being on run

Please come back to me dear one

And finish what you started

I’ve sanctioned you

We’ll share one roof

One sheet and even

One heart

Come, come my love

All rights Reserved to the poet © wilson manyuira

………………………………………………………………

SOLDIER ON by wilson manyuira

stars stores light

alighting us in night

keeping our track right

our dreams remain tight

and stars helps in fight

we always win our right(s)

proud for maintaining of sight

jumps up and down like a kites

for God brought henceforth might

up our heads we lift to height

we sing and dance every bite

our faces shone with bright\

happy lord is in our fight

All rights Reserved to the poet © wilson manyuira

………………………………………………………………

Childhood by Moses Obiti Murefu

Like a treasure on tender arms

Life was always a pleasure to me

Growing in my dreams when I sleep

That’s all that loomed around me

Basking naked while playing

with no fear of who sees me

Surely I miss those moments

When I could come home, bathed in dust

I could run to mama’s lap

Die into deep slumber sleep

She could wake me up with a kiss

A sign of a new day

I would feed on millet porridge

That would keep me going

Give me strength

Strength of a healthy child

For now as a big baby

I still usher this transition

Deep deep in me

As a child would do, in years to come

All rights Reserved to the poet © Moses Obiti Murefu

………………………………………………………………

Waking Up by Moses Obiti Murefu

Such life, so closed in

Such freedom, not being free

The warmth can be cold

The abandonment routine

With thirsty cracked lips

Protruding empty bellies

They long for better tomorrow

Their eyes, tell it all

Their whispers, so deep and loud

Speak real and true

Holding onto, a brighter future

Their daily hope

Night is light, forever bright

Filled with many a dream

Their minds, never loosing hope

Darkness is given light, by their many dreams

All rights Reserved to the poet © Moses Obiti Murefu

………………………………………………………………

New Smile/Bright Sparkling Star by Moses Obiti Murefu

Tonight, its all bright

Love lights flamed bright

Stars patched skies far apart

From a distance, rays of sun flamed

Down the horizon, the moon sunk

Wind hovered across vast fields

In sweet melodious tunes

I could feel stillness, my blood warmed

My fibre-like blood streams turgid

Night-fire kept sparkling, sending love messages

We kept vigil, our eyes gazed

But before the night robbed our romantic fiesta

We burnt chocolate bars and bananas

Foiled in the chill, served hot

Our marriage, sealed with taste

Heavens opened, new life I breathed

A tap on my back, she rolled caressing arm

Tender and soft, I could feel her

The softer she caressed, the deeper I felt

The stars kept illuminating in rhythmic constance

Milky way stretched-out vast horizons

Stars kept shooting, cross galaxy

Jungle fire burnt down

One after another, we faded off

Dashed for a lonely shelter

A smile she gave, and off she faded

All rights Reserved to the poet © Moses Obiti Murefu

………………………………………………………………

Natural Beauty by Moses Obiti Murefu

Life never seemed real

I watched, stared at the beautiful landscapes

I’m swept away by love and beauty

As I blinked straight the acacia trees

Mist covers the clear view

The other end, thick forest cover

Melts with fog

As the sun scorch bright

A distant wall, voices echo deep

Life is born, triumphant sounds tell

Day paves, night falls

You can hear, life echoing real

Above my tired clogged head

Bright star, Venus hangs

My blurred eyes blink for a look

So beautiful, so romantic

I was blessed

By beautiful serene

Hovering music of the wild

And the hoot of the wild, with her.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Moses Obiti Murefu

………………………………………………………………

The Village Woman by Moses Obiti Murefu

She does not know what comfort is

Balancing the weight of a water pot

On her bald head

That is what she knows

With cracked dusty feet

She has to fetch firewood

Among thorny bushes

Not forgetting to cook

With the weight of firewood

On her skinny neck

A baby yells in agony

For a splint of firewood in it’s eye

With an empty stomach

She has to toil hard

In order to feed the hungry village

First, before her

Surely! If you stay in comfort too long

You will not know what pain is

The pain of a woman in labour

Without an angel beside

Only the village woman

Knows the voice of everyone

For she listens carefully

Even the echo of a pin-drop

Oh! village woman

The refuge of many

All rights Reserved to the poet © Moses Obiti Murefu

………………………………………………………………

A Ballad to my Beloved by Moses Obiti Murefu

I bring to you, these silent lines

A book of my numberless psalms

Your the one with the perfect skills

One does not need to hear the words

I bring to you my heartfelt rhymes

The book of my dreams

Worked at it, day, night

Walked through shadows of empty nights

Your goodnight wishes, lights my passing feet

As I cross block after block

Through scared corridors and landscapes

My untamed feelings give me courage

Sailing in this love-craft

Swimming with right stroke, left stroke

My dream is to see you tomorrow

All rights Reserved to the poet © Moses Obiti Murefu

………………………………………………………………

SWEET BITTER FRUITS by Esther Nancie

I heard that they cultivated sometime back,

That the seeds of hatred, those of prejudice,

Seeds of impunity, seeds that led us to what we are today,

Were planted long ago, when we thought

That ‘UHURU’ had finally arrived.

Now we must reap

We must surely reap

Painfully reaping where we did not sow

For those who planted are long gone

Gone into an everlasting sleep.

It is painful reaping

But to reap we must

For in our bloodstreams is the replica

Of what ran in those of our forefathers

Those who planted the seeds.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Esther Nancie

………………………………………………………………

POWER by Esther Nancie

Aha ‘mwananchi’, your time atlast,

To show your sovereignity that lasts,

forever bestowed to you,

by him that moulded you.

They come and go, year in year out

Poor ‘mwananchi’, do you have a choice?

The old cats are still drinking milk.

Milk that the kittens ceremoniously own

Old is gold, the miserable slogan they sell

Moving up and down, luring ‘mwananchi’

At the last minute rush.

Stick to your heart ‘mwananchi’,

These ‘waheshimiwa’ do not hold your interests at heart

They will never bring bread to your table,

After all they survive on taxpayers.

Careful, ‘mheshimiwa’!

This ‘mwananchi’ you look down upon,

The same ‘mwananchi’ that bestows power on you.

This ‘mwananchi’ you look at contemptously,

Shall surely revolt someday,

Thus he shall rip off your power

And end your power sharing deals.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Esther Nancie

………………………………………………………………

Sunset by Joseph Kogi

I stood over the fence

And I saw the horizon,

It was beautiful,

The sun was as red as a rose

The clouds painted orange

And it felt cool.

The cool breeze filled

My nostrils and

Made me feel

Good to be alive.

The singing of crickets

As the day weathers

Filled my ears with

The music of nature.

The green fields and forest

Swing with the wind

To say goodbye to the sun

And welcome the night.

Birds return to their nests

To rest, and I too

Have to go back inside

Where it is warm

And where my family awaits.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Joseph Kogi

………………………………………………………………

Left over by Joseph Kogi

She lied there,

Crying like a wounded animal,

She stood waiting

For her time to end,

Pus came out of her stomach,

Wounds covered her back,

With watery eyes I watched,

Her lying there hopeless.

All I could see was her

Living on her last breath,

With no bullets in our guns,

We couldn’t end her pain,

We walked away

Leaving her to die.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Joseph Kogi

………………………………………………………………

GoGod Forgive Kenya by Vincent de Paul, S.I.

Grabbing of Thee Land, career of the influential

On the thrones the tyrants and the avaricious; they lead

Debauchery, decadence, sham and sullying we don’t need.

Facades and fascists dominate, are full of greed

Obscurantism the mission of government of the Land

Rabble-rousers, hidden away discreetly by tools of power

Garner guns and sponsor criminal gangs, they kill

Injustice to those who can’t buy natural justice

Victimization of those with nothing, there’s no peace

Extortion, vice, sin, economic dwindle; human rights sullied;

Killers daily are recruited and trained for assassinations

Execution of the rising sun of the nation;

Narcissism the style of the senators in coalition

Yammering with all possible means hasn’t yet helped

Almighty, God Forgive Kenya, attain for us redemption.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Vincent de Paul, S.I.

………………………………………………………………

Art and thought By Sheila Bayley

The slaves that harvested the art/

The suppressed that sow more than soul and heart/

Prayers, poems, philosophy and theory/

Despite the overwhelming flood of hunger and fury/

We the people, supposedly ‘developing’/

Born with wisdom rich in our being/

Ancestors, Fathers and mothers, fed us the world/

And the word/ of solid democracy/

Living life’s fertilized by genuine creativity/ and meritocracy/

We stand up when we talk/

Yet, what some may speak doesn’t even classify as walking the walk/

Or talking the talk/

Stand, stay proud/

Speak out loud/

We need to speak the word of a world we shall ultimately dominate/

Not through paper and ink, or hate/But through, spirituality we shall over take/

Our instinct far superior to all/ With our love we stand tall/

Who they want us to be?/ we may not see/

But with art and thought we shall forever be free.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Sheila Bayley

………………………………………………………………

Forget Me by Timothy Wainaina

Sing no ballads for me,

Nor dirges for me.

Build no statues of me

No wakes or grave for me

Shed no tears for me

And no roses for me.

When night like a robber,

In a black hooded cloak,

With cold for a lover,

Shall enter so bold,

Be not a dreamer,

Of our memories of old

Swiftly, like I bid him aim

-Cupid for me did claim,

Thine heart for me to own-

Pluck it and cast it down,

For his arrow is just vain,

Without love but just pain

Dreams, don’t dream.

For dreams are vain,

Like castles in the air

Or an old spider’s web,

Down they’ll tumble,

Afore you are settled.

Like dew at dawn,

In the soft light of morn’

Turns to jewels on the grass,

Before the sun’s hot and high,

Is love’s false beauty,

When the sun’s up and high.

Like the beauty of sunset,

A mirage on the sand,

Is the magic of love,

And the promise of romance.

The nearer you get,

The further it gets.
All rights Reserved to the poet © Timothy Wainaina

………………………………………………………………

The return to home by joseph maina

From the noisy, polluted

City i

Hit the country road,

On a crowded old Toyota van,

Its dusty, rugged and bumpy.

Goats, chicken, ducks are

Also passengers,

I hang on to the vehicle frame

While my feet rest on a small

Metal bar

At outside and bottom of the

Vehicles door,

The friendliness of the people

Make me love to be home.

On the luggage I have,

My mother’s favorite kanga,

My father’s favorite cigarette,

My siblings’ favorite sweets

And balloons

And wheat flour for chapati

Their favorite dish

though a laborer in the city

I try to make them proud

Of their son.

The fresh air

The cool breeze

The friendliness of the people

The stories of my father

The adventure of my siblings

The caring of my mother and her meals

Their interest and eager in my city stories

The local brew

The village dance nights

The whistling of the birds

The bathing in rivers

The herding of cattle

The variety of food

Make me want to forget

City life.

All rights Reserved to the poet © joseph maina

………………………………………………………………

Promize by Simon Mbuthia

My dear, mpenzi

Amka, wake up

For the time has come

Ni wakati wa kuondoka

I hope you’ll understand

Na watoto pia

Teach them to forgive

Their father

Waambie, tell them

That I had to go.

Tell them of my dreams

The places I’ve yearned for

Natumaini they’ll understand

And coax

Their little souls

Kunisamehe tafadhali.

Especially yule mtoto

The little inquisitive one

I know she’ll ask

Maswali chungu nzima

Tell her I’ve gone to the city

Kutafuta unga

And she shouldn’t be silly

Tell her machozi

Will not help anything

Nitamletea viatu vya ngozi.

Tell the children

Not to be fools

That waende shule

They should go to school

Not to follow the footsteps

Of their fugitive father

And tell them

When they make

Their imploring bed-side prayers

Wamuombee daddy

Wherever he is

In the atrocious world.

And don’t forget

To tell them this

Katika ndoto zao

To include me in their dreams

And hope always

That I’ll come one day

Siku moja nitarudi

To show them

My old grey beard.

My dear, mpenzi

Amka, wake up

And open the door

Before their rumbling stomachs

Like ngurumo za radi

Wakes them up and

They stretch their scrawny hands

And demand chakula

And torture my soul

Kuumiza roho yangu

With their empty gazes

Wake up fast

For it’s time to go

Ni wakati wa kuondoka.

All rights Reserved to the poet ©Simon Mbuthia

………………………………………………………………

A little Step of Faith That is a huge one in life by Geoffrey Maina

friend,

The most detrimental action against the fulfilment of our dreams ……………

is inaction.

the fear to begin ,

that cowardly trait we cannot admit of having,

bt which again and again

surely manifests itself every so often

especially when we are faced with new challenges

even Jesus in the flesh of man,

right before crucifixion

expirienced this fear,

Father if you could take away this cup from me…..

were his exact words

proving that we,

born of the flesh,

are timid and shy of challenges

and this goes far beyond man,

a close study of nature

and a few lessons are learnt

The young eaglet watches her mother fly away with much admiration,

every other hour,

even though she is now ready,

the sight of that long drop to the ground forces her to stay put,

for a moment there,

that cowardly instinct kicks in,

she forgets the liberty to command the sky,

is what that step of faith offers her,

with loving tendering care the mother cares for her

bt there’s only one thing she cannot do,

even after feeding the chick,

after protecting the chick,

so ferociously at times,

still the initiative to plunge into the air,

to spread her wings

remains solely in her hands

so that she may flap her wings

and propell herself,

and discover her destiny

which is ofcourse,

to be KING of the sky!

All rights Reserved to the poet © Geoffrey Maina

………………………………………………………………

CAST AWAY by Geoffrey Maina

The longest journey,

Bitterly i had to find out

is the one one endures alone

…..

especially if you set out with a patner

Ask the ancient Mariner

n he would best tell you

when alone the loneliness is unbearable

a wary gaze at the mirror

and a pale figure stands before you

whoever wants to be alone?

a question only the night walker may best answer

for after years of solitude

my best guess?

he is on a quest to find a long lost patner

ashamed to show face during day time

the shadow cast by the moonlight is his only company

Bitterly i recall the mingrane words you hurled at me

all purported remedy i tried

even the strongest pills to knock me out cold

yes for a moment they worked

then the boomerang effect wakes with a bang

my struggle to fight off the guilt

for i was part of that beautiful love

yet couldnt salvage it

turns out to be just like

a sufforcating wilderbeast lamb’s battle

with a mamba

at the bottom of the Mara river.

So i live unwanted,

in my self exile

i shun all advances

ever now so sceptical

i care not find out whether

they are

innocent or ill intended

Now then you crawl back!

your scent i quickly turn to

it is ringing so many bells

am sorry is not the word

and i am glad you realise this

when i thought that my dream

as i have accustommed myself to think

that this is all my life has been…….

a bad dream

and i was thinking that i cannot get worse,

I am thrown into the graphic past,

wounds are undressed afer years of nursing

To no suprise,

They are still fresh

only for whatever is coming out

and the ooze as you can guess

is surely foul.

Lord I cry out,

For I have called onto you countless times

but give me Solomons wisdom on this one

For i need to be the wisest

To unravel this puzzle

A question with no right or wrong answer.

Could I,

Can I,

Should I,

Also CAST AWAY?
All rights Reserved to the poet © Geoffrey Maina

………………………………………………………………

SON OF A WOMAN by Edwin Cerealinabox

Son of a woman

I have known you before you had teeth

Son of my agemate

I was there when you lost your foreskin

Son of my friend you are a man

A man of our famed tribe

A warrior of the feared clan

A man whose buttocks will one day sit in the elders circle

Why do you cry like a woman?

Why do you weep like a child with a grazed knee?

Why do you put on the face of a man laden with jiggers?

Is your head so heavy you have to hold it in your palm?

Son of a woman

Have you no shame?

Do you wish the ancestors gaze upon you?

Tell me this

Does the sun not rise after it sets?

Does the lizard not grow a tail after it loses one?

Does it not rain after the dry spell?

Then wake up my son

Beat the dust from your behind

Blow your nose clean

You are a man my son

A MAN whose bloodline is rich

Wake up my son

When your knees grow weak

And your back refuses to straighten

You will remember today

And your heart will be at peace

Wake up before the children see their father crying

All rights Reserved to the poet © CerealiNaBoX ©2010

………………………………………………………………

a Paper, a Pen and a Padded Room by Oyala Odhiambo

I wear my memories on my wrist,

my soul strung across my back,

my feelings flung over my shoulders,

and my conscience gently holding my gut

like a girdle.

My thoughts speak, in a language of words

cut up with a Smithsonian sword,

and pasted put into a macabre mosaic.

Seduced into seclusion,

by a society that swears by political correctness;

poor, critical and reckless.

The infinite enclosure;reality,

fails to contain my mind,

its overstretched boundaries press hard

against my deepest cognitions.

Plagued with personalities

of snow-flake diversity,

complexes in algebraic proportion,

and isms as multi-faceted as diamond-cut prisms,

from splitting atoms to splitting headaches,

from nuclear fission to unclear vision…distortion.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Oyala Odhiambo

………………………………………………………………

LISTEN! LISTEN! LISTEN! by Patrick Wakhio

At one time the

Voice echoed

In the ears of all

And all would turn

To hear what the

Voice said, but what

The Voice echoed

Were not new words

For they had been

Recorded in the ancient

Times and whispered

To the Children. The

Wind took up the task of conveying

Words from the Voice.
It has just arrived, it is new. Yet having taken ages, the sound of the Voice echoes even more. Take your time, you will listen and realize. He came and died, to save you and I……….

The Voice liberates my soul finds me when am lost

Bound by sin, my thoughts and sight are dim

Destined for doom with no room to improve

I walk and walk but there is nothing meaningful but talk

My desires are strong; they surpass my strength to hold

I am a being let loose, with free will to choose

At an instance The Voice echoes inside my mind

Urging me to follow The Way but my flesh says ‘no way!’

Many paths are nearer and shorter, The Voice urges me to wait longer

The choice is mine I don’t want to be doomed!

The Voice-The Giver of life promised me a room

The Voice whispers, ‘be strong…hold on’

You will suffer no more, the Voice liberates the soul

If we only listen… listen….listen….

All rights Reserved to the poet © Patrick Wakhio.

……………………………………………………………..

LEADERS OF TOMORROW by Ndege Serikal

We the youths, their fools,

Their tools, their bins of refuse

To seduce, use, misuse and reuse.

We the leaders of tomorrow

But tomorrow never darkens

Save for election days before sorrow

When they green and we grey with drunkenness.

Today is the tomorrow of yesterday

And they bury us in heavy clay

Keeping us below poverty line

And atop molten lava of unemployment, Catastrophe, corruption and crime.

We the leaders of Hustling Management

Hustling endlessly for meat for stomach

As they hustle for stomachs for their meat.

We be strong together if together

They go fear forever if we gather;

Gather together under the red banner of revolt

Gather together to dissect the corpses of truth.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Ndege Serikal

………………………………………………………………

UNEMPLOYED by Ndege Serikal

I have no money, i kiss no honey

I miss nobody, i unsanitize all sanity.

Am poor, poorer than poverty

Am wicked, the wickedest of the untouchables.

I steal the greens from your vegetables,

I rob your house, i enthrone political nonsense

And am always in court for smoking-with-violence.

I radicalize radicalism, am wise beyond redemption,

I live and practice anything uneconomical

And i break all laws save those gravitational.

Crime pays me, prostitution unstresses me,

Tribalism decays me by decree

And corruption undresses my degree.

Though a son of this soil

Sparing my academic rod brings me no spoil.

Though born in this land with love

I know neither bread nor crumbs from above.

Though versed and academically alloyed

Me still annoyed, uncoined and unemployed.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Ndege Serikal

…. …………………………………………………………..

HATE AT FIRST SIGHT by Ndege Serikal

My hate for this politics

Was hate at first sight.

It tatters and taints my ribs

And still preaches right over might.

It lectures me on navigation

As tides capsize my ship.

It talks incessantly of salvation

While disunity and discord extend partnership.

My hate for this politics

Was hate at first sight.

It reads and rehearses Economics

But on stage, acts from a lay text.

It makes ovens for export

But still removes my bread before oven’s hot.

This politics politicises politics.

It rots tooth and mind,

Corrupts goodness and pride,

Blots eye and landscape

Distorting both truth and state.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Ndege Serikalo

……………………………………………………………… 

God Bless Kenya by Vincent de Paul S.I.

Grandeur and wealth, O God bestow

Our heritage preserve, to the world show

Dearest Almighty, ya’ blessings let them flow.

Bereft we are, deliver us from all evil

Love show, we love you and forever will

Entree into our hearts, descend from above

Stay in our midst; our hope, our love

Seraphic make us, the grace we don’ have.

Kinship of wonderful people, a true nation

Elegant scenery, beauty defies imagination

Notwithstanding errs, peace abound

Yahweh we believe, ya’ might astound

Attain for us liberty, Thee freedom ring out loud.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Vincent de Paul S.I.

………………………………………………………………

The Republic by Oyala Odhiambo

The lion, the antelope

the anecdote, the virus

the ants, the colony

the harmony, the sirens

the melody, the silence…

From the armoured car, to the escort service

the minute-maids, to the hourly rates

the minimum wage, the premium perks;distended.

The pros and cons,

pronouns and conjunctions,

the con-artist at every court function,

the uprising, the down-syndrome,

the mountain of a task,

the countless summits;no conclusion.

The fatherless nation, the motherless children

the piped dreams and bottled water;minerals

the daily paper or the daily bread,

the Holy Grail or the Holy Ghost,

the caged bird or the tethered beast.

All the above, yet

beautifully fierce

like tiger lilies and dandelions,

I hand the iron to the smith,

but keep the fire burning in the furnace.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Oyala Odhiambo

……………………………………………………………… 

You are a masterpiece! by Margaret Muthee

Know you are fine,

For the moon don’t make the stars shine…

Mountains don’t make rivers flow…

Light don’t make a day!

Know you are a masterpiece,

A daisy in his garden of roses…

You are his own!

So when they do menacingly mock, mourn at your being…

Know you are…

A master piece remember?

The value he – owner of the seas

Attaches to you is what matters

So when your patience they do try,

Do not sit down and cry!

Know you are…

You-are-above that!

You are an eagle that so high can fly,

Above the dark and clear blue sky,

So spread your wings…

New life begins.

When you realize-you are…

You are a prince….son- daughter of a king!

Walk, talk, like one you represent…..

All rights Reserved to the poet © Margaret Muthee 

………………………………………………………………

Question By Margaret Muthee

Is it me you still feel?

Please tell me so I may heal.

Tears have flowed like a river,

I even had a fever!

For I thought u’d taken a flight…

Gone:

Gone away with the winds…

Winds that sway the trees.

Trees…they remind me of a past,

When I was sure our love would last.

Quick you are to accuse,

As if in a court of appeal.

You say our love to impress I dress.

Too soon you forget,

How you said you’d never regret,

Having me in your life.

You were vocal my love,

You professed your love to the world.

Still want you to be like a dove,

But on our love wild.

This way I’ll know,

That even when there’s snow,

You still are my one and true love!

All rights Reserved to the poet © Margaret Muthee 

……………………………………………………………..

STREAKS OF REBEL by Eric Mutema

Unwarranted attention, unneeded extol

You used to be our darling, so they say

What has distorted thee? That you fail us so

Nothing has changed, only that you never noticed

My introvert eccentricity, nearly made me imperceptible

I passed for the cool, calm quiet guy in the room

Never hurt a fly, because I am a one man wolf pack

I exist on my own, and her strong support

But now you have crossed my territory

My verbal fangs sting, so does my pen nip

The real side of me you never seen

Gleams and shines like a high raised blowlamp

When the day breaks, I leave to nurse the changing color

Never let it fade into abyss of nothingness

I will come back black and darker

Spirit of vengeance

You wounded my personality

The question is, will I strike back? 

All rights Reserved to the poet © Eric Mutema

………………………………………………………………

MY PAIN by Sammy Momanyi

Maybe I should start from the beginning

Tell it like it is where it was born

I should say about everywhere at the time

Looking at it you would say it isn’t Gods creation

But its definitely human like, only we can bring it to existence

It’s funny! My mother used to say;

It screams like a new born baby and shits like a pig

And yes I choose to live with it its mine my pain

My pain is self destructive it shall kill me inside

It shall take my heart prisoner, infect it

It shall disperse like a virus attack, disable my every limb

Disarm my every white cell….my white shell

Well to tell you the truth I have rendered my immune system weak

Overpowered yes my poor white cells……..white shell

I shall weaken soon, crumble with my insecurities, fears

Is it the end of me or for me?

But what can I do I choose to live with it ‘tis mine my pain

There is no light in this life my heart has turned cold

It feeds my veins with ice blocks of anger

Fills my soul with a breeze of rage and

Feeds by brain with melting mouthfuls of vengeance

My pain is dark; the atmosphere that surrounds me is grave

That it kills everything I am near I touch

I can only break hearts with my words of venom

Pessimism perverting destruction

I cloak myself in evil darkness my path of treachery

Devoured but I choose to live with it ‘tis mine my pain

My heart was young mmmgh so full of color

I see no rainbow of hope am no different from a murderer

So young it was bound where it was born its womb

And in the carelessness of youth I exposed it

To matters it was not ready for liberation or so I thought

Felt good at the time but now its only in memories

Memories infected with regret like a computer virus

It attacked my firewall and I should have had an extension 3

Poor me

My antivirus is out of date my guard is down

I have no self esteem no pride

My pain has rendered me defenseless it has destroyed my nature

Who I am is not what am supposed to be

Yet I choose to live with it ‘tis mine my pain

All rights Reserved to the poet © Sammy Momanyi

………………………………………………………………

ILLUSIONby Mary Njehia

It all became an illusion

A cold, steaming unreal reality

Those days when in complete oblivion

We giggled,

We told myths of false icons

And the giggles instantly changed

Transformed into heavy belly laughs

Aaa! such were the moments
With nostalgia, I remember “Dema” moments…

Breakfast presented a new day,

And as we munched on the exesses of loaves,

Antisipation of the new day grew.

Then the luncheon!

Tantalizing as it were, reason held the desire back,

As supper would soon dawn.

When it arrived, it was a non-definative moment

Filled with non-definative activities…
Our play still re-acts its newly scripted scenes

but in it, something lacks… misses…

In particular, a being.

Her absence gets me livid,

Frustrated with destiny,

Justified by the fact that her existence,

Her liveliness, her life,

It has faded into a dull and harsh illusion

All rights Reserved to the poet © Mary Njehia

………………………………………………………………

Hey© Ondiso Madete

I see flowers,

lavender lilies, dangling dandelions,

rhyming roses, sinister sunflowers.

I see their color,

symphonies of blues, and greens and red and you-

loud, unabashed, dazzling, frightened, free.

I am lying on the ground, a speck of brown on the green

lawn of the universe,

a verse in a poem- on the worn note pad

owned by… who?

a smile, for those that I’ve loved,

and those who soon will love me.

A crimson crystalline speck of forever,

stuck heavily in the here. stop. now.

And life rushes before me,

I’m racing with my younger sibling past,

and she is willing to forget yesterday

and forgive me for whatever I did,

and it seems will keep on doing.

I watch you now,

colorful, beautiful, frightened, free.

Hey.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Ondiso Madete

………………………………………………………………

Ocean breathes salty by Ondiso Madete

Inhale.

Catch the scent of death on you tongue.

feel life ebb like water from hanging sheets,

as my hands shake with the weight of you,

and ocean washes over clumsy feet,

and welcomes me as I bring you.

Salt pinches invisible sores,

that range from heart to toes,

and the memories that come with these…

are painfully, hopelessly perfect,

of your choked kisses and momentary love.

that now in poignant bliss, will come to last forever.

Exhale.

With saltine kiss on

your blue and unsmiling lips,

I lay you down to rest.

You wasted life, and are wasting, dead.

As the ocean breathes salty

over and over, again and again.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Ondiso Madete

………………………………………………………………

Hope © Ondiso Madete

She stems from nothing,

This idyllic, soft spoken mistress.

This one moment here, One moment

gone monsoon.

This harmattan wind that travels eons to reach here,

Then upon arrival moves the world.

Hope is the key…

The door that stands majestically closed,

The one armed guard that protects it,

The masses of people waiting, for the click,

That gives leave for the long awaited opening,

The unabashed unveiling,

The pure and innocent unmasking,

Of,

Everything…

Hope is the hearts that beats excited

The baby’s that sleep all nights protected

The mothers that die forever respected and loved

Loved, Love, Love, Love…

if hope is anything

Hope is Love.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Ondiso Madete

………………………………………………………………

Dear grown up… © Ondiso Madete

Explain to me honesty

Is it the inclination towards the truth,

Is it always a good intention

A good means to a good end.

Or is it cruel.

Like death

The most honest truth life offers.

Explain to me good

Am I good because of my pure thoughts

Or am I good because of my good deeds?

And if the former’s a lie

And the latter a truth

Can any of us claim to be good?

Explain to me truth

Is it constant

No.

Truth is subjective to the time and its owner

I am true.

I breathe and feel truly.

The laughter in my throat, and the salt in my tears is true.

Until it isn’t;

Until I lie.

And I AM A LIAR.

So how can I be true?

Explain to me sorrow.

More ubiquitous than rain;

Profound in its depths,

Complete in its pain

Pain that reaches farther than love (or propelled by it)

or joy

or laughter

or happiness

And blackens so thoroughly my soul.

Explain to me love

And hate.

Monozygotic twins, that look nothing alike but

Inside few things differ;

Their language is universal,

Their passions extreme,

Their power absolute.

Absolute.

Explain to me silence

Because even when the earth is still

(The earth is never still)

When the birds have, still standing, slept;

When the city has lost its sight and voice;

When the wind has piped down.

The sky is empty but for the blinking stars;

Even when the spirits rise to wander the streets on empty feet;

When the earth is sleeping,

I still heart my heart beating.

Is there only silence in death?

And can the dead with their deaf ears,

Hear it?

All rights Reserved to the poet © Ondiso Madete

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BEAUTIFUL THOUGHTS© Bernice Starley

There goes the sound of rain,

that deafens my ears with no strain,

i forget my pain,i forget my sorrow,

i pray it rains & rains till tomorrow.

I feel the wind as it blows so hard on my body,

my hair sings & dances to its music for my voice so

froggy

can’t wait till it blows me to the skies so clear,

& i will giggle as the clouds absorb my every tear.

I hear the birds singing & i whistle,

they make my day so bright,so crystal,

i look at them keenly as they fly to the sky,

i spread my wings & close my eyes as to fly i begin to

try.

The touch of flowers so soft & wonderful,

make me forget my scars so painful,

their colours brighten the light of my day,

their sweet smell drives troubles very far away.

I see my dreams so true,

they look so good as the skies so blue,

i want to hold them so warmly,so tight.

for i have waited so long &  now the time feels right.

The beauty of my thoughts,makes my life so real,

i feel precious even when so sad i feel,

everyday i wait for these moments to come

and my joy for each day remains so firm.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Bernice Starley 

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RISING ONCE MORE© Bernice Starley

Days were dark and cold,

loneliness replaced your warm fold,

pain dominated my wounded heart,

my pain never looked away,it was alert.

Your eyes showed nothing close to nice,

a heart so heavy coated with frozen ice,

blamed me for the frown on your face,

never asked why i packed & left you some space

The hardest part was letting you go,

wished i could laugh with you as others did so,

but i was proud & had to let the heat cool,

wanted you so bad & i felt like a fool.

On my head you put a heavy blame,

of walking away & killing our flame,

and i accuse you of locking me outside,

where i was swallowed by the fierce ocean tide.

Distance unfortunately never worked miracles,

magnets that brought us back overcame obstacles,

the dark clouds are over,mist slowly drifting away,

our hearts filled with hope of the sun shining all day.

Our music with time will revive,

to keep our moon shining,let us strive,

withdrawing our pointing fingers,we learn from our fall,

if fate is by our side,we shall once again stand tall.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Bernice Starley 

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Angels © Wanjala Barasa

The angels come every five years,

dressed in heavenly splendor.

Playing sweet music to our ears,

haggling over us like buyers and vendors.

They carry bags underneath their wings,

full of goodies and promises.

So we join together and sing,

of ‘gods’’ wonderful promises.

Sometimes they say ‘god gave us this land’,’

and out heathens must go.

At times the blood o’ aliens in our land,

must-we must force to go.

Sometimes the aliens have taken over,

everything, including graves o’ our fathers.

They have hid our wealth undercover

married our daughters and defiled our mothers!

The war songs get louder,

for ‘our god’’ is going to war.

‘Our poverty? ”It’s them’’–the drums get louder,

For the battle is not far.

‘Our god won’’ they disagreed,

so like cannibals , whilst gods party;

we chose aliens to rid,

while the angels marry and party.

For five years, they’ll carry bags o’ gold,

in them contracts and tenders.

Daily they form alliances and earn allowances,

no haggling in the absence of the vendors.

For vendors, the hunt wasn’t worth the chase;

the angels were but bishops and pawns,

in a protracted game of Chess,

who’ve left ‘em with nothing to own.

A fattened bosom and sweet slumber for the buyer,

a worthy reward for his hard work.

A vacation for the next five years,

a worthy reward for his hard work.

For the kingdom, vague rhetoric again,

brings it to an end.

The Chess game begins again,

for this circle will never end!

 All rights Reserved to the poet © Wanjala Barasa

This poem characterizes an African politician who thrives on his tribe to ascend

into leadership positions after which he uses corruption, nepotism and violence

to perpetuate himself in power. The electoral violence after the 2007 election

in Kenya, The Zimbabwe election in 2008, and Togo point to what extent the

politicians can go to keep themselves in power.­

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The Girl of the Street  © Beth Nduta
Without any form of pity

or self respect,

she goes to the men

in big cars-driven by chauffeurs,

her walking style never seen before,

she slithers across the road,

with eyes cast on her prey-

a big cat at the top of the society chain

with a big belly and 10 wives,

and old enough to be her father-

her lips full and pouted

Screaming scarlet with lipstick

Finally at the car,

she leans forward

letting her breasts peer out of her tiny camisole

and her mini skirt

hitched up a little longer

to let him and the rest glance

at what she has to offer

she smiles at them

and they with no shame

ogle at her, eyes out of their sockets

Beads of sweat on their already glistening foreheads,

but they know what she wants

and ready to dish it out.

Without a second thought,

The car door is opened and a man,

The man steps out

in his impeccable suit

and million-dollar shoes

Welcoming her into his warm embrace

She purrs like a little kitten

and the man’s heart she holds

in the palm of her tiny hands.

with a plan in mind

she knows not romance nor love.

All rights Reserved to the poet © Beth Nduta 

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All the rights to the poems appearing on this page remain with the individual Poets. No unauthorised use of any of the poems is allowed unless with explicit permission from the individual poet. To gain the rights to use any of the poems, or repost, write to poem(at)kenyanpoet(dot)com.

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Showcasing the best in the Kenyan Visual and Performance Arts. Run by Njeri Wangari a Published performance Poet, Blogger and Tech Enthusiast.