Tuesday, January 25, 2011


Sparked by a word,
A careless collection of syllables that sounded absurd,
Offence was taken and apologies demanded,
Stubborn, proud, they refused to be reprimanded,
Threats were made and empty they seemed,
Grounds were stood, nothing is as it seems,
Guards at ready grab your weapon of choice,
If they do not hear, we shall show them we have a voice,
Speeches given morale was stirred, perhaps we might, yes we can,
In this valley tonight we live and die, show you are a man,
Villages burnt and women cried, children killed and womed raped,
Young lads leave school war calls, pressure heaped,
Scorched earth years of labour up in flames,
Men acting like dogs untamed,
UN, Red cross diplomacy prevails,
Creating a path through the destruction trail,
Damage can't be undone, where once happy bright and homely,
Lie bodies on the ground, child left alone in a world cold, dark and lonely.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

I Wrote This Poem

I wrote this poem just because I could,
Because the words in my mind aligned just the way they should,
Because the sweet sounds and the short syllables,
Were eating at my mind like animalistic cannibals,
Because the time, rhyme and meter,
Swirling in my head sounded sweeter and sweeter,
Because the words took me to that land that is constantly tuned to the words the bird sings,
That place where Richard of York goes to battle.... And wins!
So I wrote this poem,
It wasn't inspired by some tragic event or bittersweet love story,
Nor by some deep thinking of how life has lost its glory,
It doesn't have a twist, its story has no clever turn,
In fact, truth be told, I wrote this poem just for fun.

Sunday, January 16, 2011


Vile creature,
I can feel you surfing on my sensations,
Just off the coast of my desires,

Oblivious to my Messiah,

A thousand desires screaming for attention,
The shrill shrieks of legion starved,
My heart throwing tantrums!

Dinner for my demons,

Anti-thesis to my spiritual resolve.

By Chaka Sichangi. You can see more writing by him here

Friday, January 14, 2011

A Solo Tango

Whispers fill the air
Of how the day was lived
Full of life from the crook
Naked bodies swirl in the water below
Twisting as though the spill of water through them tickles

Every now and then
The rest take a jump
Maybe involuntarily
But they dive into the water and
Dance a tango
Of broken twigs and flowing water

As the great oak babysits
Sure that they’ll still leave.

By Wanjiku Mwaurah See more of her poetry here or there

Thursday, January 13, 2011


These thoughts beget thoughts,
Sunlight gives way to moonlight,
Dung beetle locked in motion.

by Wanjeri Gakuru See her writings and musings here

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

A Flower Grows

A flower grows
Of tepid colouration
No one told it
That flowers should be bright.
A flower sprouts
At the base of a cloud
No one told it
Where flowers should bloom.
A flower plucks off its petals
To admire itself
No one told it
Its beauty is inside.
A flower dies
Of exposure
No one told it
To cover its little bud.

by Claudete Oduor.See more of her poetry here and her prose here

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Two Little Paws

Ten little fingers, two little paws
One little CPU, centrally processing it all
Whirrr...processing data...
Two little bunny ears, in out twist

Rocket science, frustration

Ten stubborn fingers, two useless paws
One little mind, unable to comprehend it all
Whirr whirrr...
Two little bunny ears, out in twist

Pause, tears

Two salty rivers race down his cheeks
A cry wells in his tiny heart
Little eyelids slide shut
Fluid darkness

He sees her,
Ten slender fingers, two loving paws
Enveloping his putting him at ease


Two little bunny ears
Into the barrow out the tunnel, twist
And with a kiss, shes gone

Two little eyelids flutter open
To the light of the bright sun
And the sight of a proud mum

'Look mommy, I tied my laces!'

Ten slender fingers, two loving paws
Pick little cub up and give him a kiss

By Edwin Baru. I'm sure if you looked here or there you could find his poetry and prose respectively.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Bedding My Words

Unashamed of my egocentricity,
I stand armoured to sin again,
Eyes panting, ears blinking,
I drool at my words,
Waiting for a lone moment to pleasure myself with them.

Denny me not a chance to court my words,
Let my verbs wet me into ripples of shy ecstasy,
Poetry of my words- see the desire on my lips,
Want me back,
Drive me into panting in between the pauses of my words.

I shall pleasure myself with the feel of my words,
Kiss the tips of their puffing madness,
Coitus with my words,
I be a misfit in your eyes,
But let me find pleasure in the words that are mine,
Stimulate the wells of my intellect,
Wet them,
Explode in ecstasy,
Begotten from the curves of the union of my words.

Let their staleness humour my nerves,
Breaking them into a chord, music on my skin, music within,
Allow me to feed on their madness,
a stimulation of elation,
an explosion.

By Jacque Ndinda see more of her works here

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

The Language of the Earth

I met a man,
Who spoke out his words in a verse,
He spoke them true,
He spoke them clear,
With a rhyme every time,
His words music to my ears,
He spoke the language of the earth.

I met a young lady,
Who spoke her words through music,
She sang them sweet,
She sang them mellow,
Her voice made my knees turn to jello,
She spoke the language of the earth.

I met a girl,
Who spoke her words through art,
She drew them large,
She drew them fine,
Her art aged well, just like fine wine,
She spoke the language of the earth.

I met an old man,
Who spoke his words through crafts,
He built them complex,
He built them elegant,
Wether the sleek mockingbird or the mighty elephant,
He spoke the language of the earth.

I met a young lad,
Who spoke his words through sport,
He played them athletic,
He played them all,
He would work wonders with any type of ball,
He spoke the language of the earth.

I looked in the mirror today,
And spake these words to myself,
I play no sport,
I speak no verse,
I sing no music and never excelled at arts and crafts,
But one day, I too, wil speak the language of the earth.

Monday, January 3, 2011

Tempted by Trust

Tempted by trust we turn a blind eye to the truth,
Lured in by lust we let go of all we had as proof,
Indifferent to the obvious dismissive of the lies,
Tempted by trust we fail to see the devil’s disguise.

Tempted by trust we ignore all the signs,
Succumb to our curse and leave all the rest behind,
Misplaced in our belief and blinded by our vanity,
Tempted by trust we loose our reasoning and sanity.

Tempted by trust we fail to heed advise,
Left none the worse the rest we begin to despise,
Digging a hole deeper creating a false existence,
Tempted by trust we ignore all internal resistance.

Tempted by trust we fail to see how it will end,
Betrayed by out thirst for love and a true friend,
Holding back our judgment silencing our conscience,
Tempted by trust we mistake what’s real and what’s pretence.

Tempted by trust the world crumples all around us,
Filled with disgust at the troubles that surrounds us,
Ignoring all forewarning walking steadily into uncertainty,
Tempted by trust we find our spontaneity.

Tempted by trust we turn a blind eye to the truth,
Just as a nail is corroded by rust, it burns us though and through,
Blinded by our longing unable to read the Braille,
Tempted by trust we fail to see imminent betrayal.