Thursday, 28 July 2011

POETRY 101-The Freshmen Class

Today i dreamt again.
It was in a big Lecture hall.
They all looked at me as though i was a magic man performing with a wand.
"Let me reiterate i said as i continued"
The hall was so quiet and warm that a dropping pin would give an echo, i thought to myself.
On the marble podium i gathered confidence with every breathe.
Their eyes were fixed at me as the eyes of an African Cheetah prying on an antelope.
I could feel i made sense to sum if not all.
The Japanese movement of my ticking watch felt like a count down to fulfillment of an oral expression.
I was just a words smith trying to pass on my tapped values of life.
I wanted to make my mark in the 'minting industry' just minting words on paper.
I loved what i do, i thought to myself.
My language was only limited to strong verbs, adjectives and nouns!
On the big and wide projector screen a name was written;
'Prof. Adam Muthama' in Tahoma font.
Just below the name was the course title-PTRY101
followed by a poem in Times New Roman font.
It was Poetry101, The Freshmen class!
I was taking them through a classical piece by Maya Angelou 'Aint i a Woman'
Their faces showed they had the flow for poetry.
A young voluptuous lady who had a short cut hair style read it fluently.
She had volunteered to read it...but i could tell some boys had lost concentration in the poem.
She caught our eyes by 'Wild Beauty' with fascinating charisma.
She was an apt description of a female that has got all the curves in all the right places,
As they say, 'similar to that of Vida Guerra'.
Her description was not to be used for description of females under 110 lbs.
With an interesting personality and character she gave life to the piece.
Eloquently she tapped into our emotions and feelings!
And as she finished...everyone was left in a cloud of emotional state.
'That was an eccentric performance', i said in an attempt to bring them back!
The class clapped their hands and some boys applauded.
For a moment i wasn't sure if the claps were for the piece or the performance.
And as i getting into the discussion i had a bell rang!
'No, its not a bell', i told myself.
It sounded like an ALARM of my Alcatel-onetouch!!
Opening my heavy eyes i realized i was dreaming.
In my hands was 'After 4:30' by David G. Mailu.
It was 9:30am and i was late for Church.

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