Sanctified Dead

Their wisdom was in words,

Their riches from hearts bled,

So they stole from the living,

Then prayed for their dead.

Their joy was in their sorrow,

Their love had turned to dread,

So they burnt the house down,

Then prayed for their dead.

Their comfort was in turmoil,

They drank from tears they shed,

So they shot all the children,

Then prayed for their dead.

Their wealth was of the blood,

That paved the streets bright red,

So they hacked all the youth,

Then prayed for their dead.

Their weakness was their strength,

The strength that anger bread,

So they raped all the women,

Then prayed for their dead.

Alone a child is crying,

Pregnant with words unsaid,

Unable to form the words,

To pray for his dead.

My Five Links

This is completely unorthodox of me and probably the only post I will ever put up here that requires me to do anything more than write a poem. I mainly agreed to this outlandish request by @arungaian because I knew it had been a while since I had managed to put together a proper piece of poetry (read all about that here) and it gave me an opportunity to let those who haven’t had the time to go through my blog’s archives do just that.

Basically this is one of those round games that you normally see on facebook. You know the drill if you are tagged you must do it and I seem to have ignored quite a large amount of those in the blogging circles so allow this to be my first, and probably last, of the kind. One last thing, if I already saw your five links on your blog odds are I won’t tag you at the end. Let’s see what other guys have to say.

So without much further whacking of the stick around the little shrub here we go:

1.     My Most Popular Post

Well, it depends on how you define the word popular but seeing as the way to measure a blog’s success is by its statistics I can only assume that this particular query means that I am to speak of the post that has had the highest number of hits on my blog.

In that case then it must definitely be Tempted by Trust. By a large margin I must add.

2.     Post That Didn’t Get The Attention It Deserved

Again it got the attention it deserved but didn’t get the attention I expected. I think whoever created this game was very careless with how they framed their words. (that would probably by this guy here). Anyway, I might as well stop being trivial and sounding like and old hag.

The post that I think should have been read more? I have just the thing, All That’s Left. Although The Dreamer is a close second.

3.     The Post Whose Success Surprised Me

Refer to my sentiments in number 1 on the question of success. That being said I would be best of here going with I Wrote This Poem, mainly because it was just a reaction to someone who was insistent on the fact that poetry must strictly have some sort of politically aware or social message. So I wrote something just because I could.

4.     My Most Controversial Post

This will probably be it. There’s not much controversy in the comments section of the blog on many an occasion though people have come up to me and raised critical issues that they noticed in my poems (that even I didn’t think of when writing).

That’s why my most controversial post, even if the comments may show otherwise, was, and still is, Language of The Earth.

5.     The Post I’m Most Proud Of

As a writer I am probably sentimentally attached to all my poems. Even the ones that don’t make it here and end up somewhere on my laptop gathering, well not dust but the software equivalent. I have been criticized many times for being a tad bit too rigid in my writing and following of certain traditional poetry rules. So one day I got mad and wrote a free verse poem. Just to prove I could and I was utterly proud of myself.

Ladies and Gentlemen, A Little Bud.

Now I must elect five other people who I think should do the same, and who I read of course. So here goes:

@MarcusOlang

@Ndinda_

@Soul_Fool

@Mawazo_Mengi

@EdwinBaru

I think that will be all.

Innocence

She said she wanted to colour the rainbow,
Cocked back her head, and laughed,
Asked if it was possible for her to make the rain glow,
Adelle set fire, maybe she'd use the charred coal.

She asked why we insist the sun is yellow,
When it is obvious it shines a brilliant white,
Asked why our faces are always mellow,
If work was so hard then why didn’t we just quit.

She was sure she could paint the face of God,
With her brown crayons and tiny bottle of paint,
Asked how come we don’t find it odd,
That the word psycho had an unnecessary ‘p’

She wondered of men who stayed up all night,
Watching over us while we rested our minds,
Asked why we were filled with such fright,
“Don’t thieves as well, need to sleep?”

She said she wanted to buy a unicorn,
Not for herself, but as a gift for santa,
Asked how come a man, full grown,
Has never had a proper family Christmas?”

She said she wanted to change the world,
Put an end to war and disease,
I looked at her,
And smiled,
One day at a time, I told her,
One day at a time.