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.

Wednesday, 27 July 2011

Lord, please listen...

Am tired...
Like the blind woman am touching your robe.
Lord, i stretch my hands pick me up.
Change my story.
Give me a song to sing.

Am tarted and torn...
Like the prodigal son.
Lord, i come back home.
Feed me with Your bread of life.
Cover me with your Armour.

Am weak...
Like Peter i have disowned  You.
Lord, cover my shame.
Reinstate me in your Kingdom.
Wipe away my tears, blow away my bitterness.

Am inadequate...
Like David my faith is not in my sling or stone but You, oh my Lord.
Although i pick fives stones, i want to use one.
My 'Goliath' is Big but mortal.
Lord, I know it is Well.

Am sad...
Like Hannah, they laugh and make fun of my 'barrenness'.
Lord, liberate me from their ridicule.
I lift up my eyes.
Save me from this depression.
Lift me high upon a Rock.

Am rejected and despised...
Like Bartimaeus i sit by the roadside and beg.
I beg not for silver or Gold, but for mercy!
I see what is physical and earthly,
Yet still i know am blind as a bat to the spiritual realm.
My Lord open the eyes of my heart i want to see you.

Am Subjugated...
Like the cry of the Israelites in Egypt, here my cry.
Lord, i know you are concerned with my suffering.
Bring  me to Canaan.
Rescue me from the 'Egyptians' and this 'Slavery'
Down at your feet i lay my Yoke.
Once and for all declare me free!!

Friday, 22 July 2011

My Pilgrimage!

This is no Vudu, nor Hocus-pocus!
I was born in an abnormal way.
My mother spent 12hours in Labour pains,
She thought that the reason she felt the pain was because of Adam n Eve;
And thus my name ADAM.
Her pain was not that of regret but of pure joy!
Strangely as it were i shared in her tears and joy.
My infancy was not peaches and cream;
Infact it was a hurdle for me and mum.
Her c-sectiom wound refused to heal;
While my face was covered with rushes which spread to my entire body.
My tender pale skin flourished in the rushes,
The only contrast was a big black 'scar' on my left ear.
Through prayers mum became better,
My rushes went away and my 'scar' reduced.
During my toddler-hood i refused to breast feed.
Mum got worried and sad but she got used to it.
Infact it worked best for me,
I mean i was as strong and as heavy as a colt born on spring!
Even this stage wasn't peaches and cream.
Let me confess, i had a thorn in my flesh.
I had problem with my speech.
Thus i stammered in my child hood.
Kids made fun of me, they called me all sorts of names.
"Bong'o bong'o", they would shout at me!
"Ako na ulimi mzito" , they would reiterate.
I felt argg...aarggg...angry and would fight my way out of that name.
But as fights in my life reduced my speech improved,
Though my body shrinked and i became darker, nhu it is well!
In my early teenage hood i was introduced to writing (compositions).
Although i liked writing i hated being told what to write about.
After sometime i realized i could write to myself and not be judged or evaluated.
Secretly i vowed to be faithful to my TWO Love (poetry n  Jesus being my 1st)
I took on the world with my pen and Bible.
I thought to myself, finally i have been given a silver-lining;
A more artistic fluency of my expressions.
My brain became tuned to poetic vibe.
I had the ability to pick people's expressions and feelings.
I could tap my thoughts and shape them into meaningful semantical units.
And that there is how i guess my pilgrimage began!
Mum i love you!

Sunday, 10 July 2011


Rain falls like it has never rained before;
The rain drops performs an orchestra followed with a tap-dance.
They tap the pools of water like the arm of a kamba drum-beater.
In complete surrender i let my soul, spirit and body dance to the rhythm n rhyme.
Like a guardian angel the sound of raindrops tiptoes into my bedroom...
Thunder and bolt harmonizes the sound of raindrops taping on the housetop sheet.
In total unison my eyes blink at the flashing lightning.
As the raindrops tap-dances on my body,
My spirit basks in the sweet-fresh smell of rain.
Like the sound of a coin in a beggar's cup the sound of each raindrop gives me hope and satisfaction.

Sunday, 3 July 2011


In-front of the closed door i stand and knock.
Above heavenly bodies i rise and hang.
Beside the stars i glow.
Beneath the the ground i sprout.
Among the saints i sing.
To angelic rhythm i dance.
I venture into the space above.
I explore the beauty of the universe.
My eyes reflect the glittering luster of precious stone.
My Origin humbles my Life.
His breathe puts things into perspective.
The perfection of beauty is restored in me.