Baby girl,
The afandes wake us at four
In the early morning
As the familiar rumble of guts
Negotiate the murky corridors
That smell of potent body odour
I’m thinking of bacon and eggs
The scent of your sweet perfume
But my thoughts are interrupted
By the 27 men in the 2 man cell next door

They knocked over the bucket
Containing the bi-products
Of the prison’s cafeteria system
They were fighting for some part
Of some poor prisoner’s anatomy
My eyes adjust to the penetrating light
Brought about by the afande’s torch
I shiver as my face links up with the crystal cold waterdrops
From the iron bucket placed outside my exclusive cell

Afande leads us to the workshop
I standout…the trustee of the block
These hours they fly so fast
Like those Airforce jets on Kenyatta Day
I oversee my fellow mahabusu
Making number plates
For the KRA…the Arturs…Election campaigns
KCA…KCB…KCC…KCD
information stored on CD

This is no Grand Regency
But still my heart is at rest
Life is peaceful
Memories of your voice filter
They filter softly through my fibres

I’m well taken care of
Moody Hoppa at my disposal
I have inherited Tom Cholmondeley’s privilleges
Mobile phone, satellite phone, DSTV,
NTV, KTN , internet
In addition to the Holy Bible ..
.I daily read the Daily Nation
and on Friday I get my copy of The Pulse
My food I get on time…real food made real good

In the evenings..when the 27 men in the 2 man cell
Are fighting for some part of some poor prisoner’s anatomy
I’m watching PrisonBreak, Champions League football
News at nine…I’m doing fine
Having you here would make this setting so divine
I hear for just a few shillings
The afandes can organize a conjugal visit for us
So…what do you think?

If I had my way I would stay locked up forever
But thoughts of you…thoughts of you
Make me look forward to the day I leave here
I could go on and on
But this piece of paper… sadly is not enough
So when you get this..flash me…call me…email me
Whatever!
For I long to hear from you
pssst..get me that tiny lap top and a safaricom modem
smuggle them inside the large print bible..
I suddenly developed eye problems..
I can only read large print..like the bible..

Lovingly yours,
Smooth criminal

© Mike Kwambo (Read his blog here)

Today we start happily ever after
Dedicate the rest of our lives to dancing to each others laughter
Learn how to make each other better
For in all the ones I have met you have been the tread setter
Each step of the way been my protector
Even when my peace of mind is all helter skelter
You get me in tune with my center
So in this commitment I enter
Coz am in love with your nature
From your structure to your posture
The way you smile on a picture
Your knowledge of your culture
You are encoded in my signature
Inscribed in my scriptures
The heart in my sculpture
Thoughts of seeing you sends me into raptures
I have had my good share of adventure
Mellowed in leisure
In all that found that you and I are my perfect mixture
So today I say I do to you in full measure
You are all I see in my future
I wanna share with you my pain and pleasure
Its your children I wanna nurture
Teach how to smile, talk and gesture
Yes! Even in pain, sickness and death you will be my treasure

© Immah

she forgets she was hurt man
she turns a blind eye to her scars man,
and her heart!
she says her heart becomes a beating drum
she says the voices, amavoices in her head start to hum
hum all those love songs
emlanjeni, by the river…
mna ndihamba nawe, i will go with you
her skin suddenly glows
her eyes neh, they sparkle!
she says she feels it in her blood
tjo!!!
pins and needles on her whole body
thorns!
hayi, poison ivy man
poison ivy on her buttocks, she cannot sit down man!
i hear even her walking changes
different rhythm mfethu
she no longer walks, she jaivas!
she becomes hyper!
vuvuzelas and makarapas!
wena! she goes crazy that one!
it is not normal man…
it’s not in my culture
hayi! hayi! hayi!
look at her
everytime it happens, she transforms man…
an educated lady, an almost graduate
sisi becomes a school girl from the village
stupidly smiling and giggling
every time you contact her man,
just one letter bhuti!
but you must stop disturbing her man,
unless you are serious man!
hayi wena, stop playing games with her man!

*dedicated to my SA fam, Mzansi for sho!!! *

© wairema mathenge

In the road: the bleary road,
Walks one carrying a heavy load,
One: a son-a daughter of man,
One embracing the culture to learn.

Outside the wind blows,
Swaying one this way and that in our unending wars,
Praying hard praying well,
That life’s problems would turn to a fairy tale.

Tears roll down ones cheek,
Embracing burdens so meek,
Tired of crying, tired of failing,
Failing in life leading to one’s wailing

Wailing in life’s’ woes,
woes-troubles-problems of laws,
Laws that emblem our daily lives,
Lives of trouble all cutting like sharp knives

This walk should not be alone,
Should not be left to die and atone,
Alone for life of sadness,
A life of no happiness.

People are around you,
Ready to embrace all you do,
Ready to help in your toil,
Ready to aid you in their loving foil.

None is to be left a lone soul,
We all depend on each other in life’s’ goal,
To lead each other to the ultimate end,
And a helping hand forever lend.

Down the road, let the road have light,
At the end of a road looking so bright,
With a smile-with laughter-with joy,
Walking-walking with one not alone and not a ploy.

© drew maina

*** THis poem is in support of the Breast Cancer Awareness month

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The festival this year will have over 72 acts in 3 days of fun featuring local and international performers including Benjamin Zephaniah, Tiffany Murray, Petina Gappah, Shailja Patel, Andy Middleton, Cat Weatherill, Katrice Horsely, Michela Wrong, Jane Bussmann, Aernout Zevenbergen, Sandra Mushi, Oyunga Pala, Sunny Bindra, Doreen Baingana, Ngwatilo Mawiyoo, Sitawa Namwalie, and many more!

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I feel it everywhere..his essence takes over my senses like an orchestra..i am powerless-enveloped with the intensity of his tune,
Transformed, in his arms i am a guitar~his fingers create a melody with the strings of my heart,
Engaged am captured in the rythm of his soul~he is the drummer and i am the beat,
Motivated, he fuels my fire, arising within me a composition for intimacy,
He courses through me~a dance of passion lingering on madness.
I am in a sudden sweetness, held to him softly as a violin~rising from my voice a staccato of short breathes,
I am powerless as his intonation takes over me,
I am heeding to his rhyme,
I succumb into his tempo,
I am drawn into the strength of his bass,

Inevitably i find myself; mind, body and soul~bursting out in a falsetto..bowing and mellowing down as his tone narrows down for a finish.

“Hit replay

© ahenda anjichi

Dear LIFE,
I ache to kiss you with the noise of my heartbeat,
I ache to embrace you with the silence in my breath
I wish to nourish you with such depth of my soul
I seek to bind you with the thread of eternity…

But,

I must not!
I am cursed never to dance to your music.
I am banished from hearing your voice.
I am bereft of all your beauty,
I am an outcast in your world. .

Yet,
Like the wind, I follow you to the ends of this world.
Like the sun, I am there even whist you cannot feel me.
Like the sky, I am the climax to your dreams.

For,
As different as we are, we both are miracles.

You are the beginning.
I am the end.
There can be none without the other,

Yours sincerely,
DEATH.

© ahenda anjichi

The nightmare refuses to go, even though day break is here
The pain still lingers on, even though pain relievers are available
The destruction continues, even though repairs are at hand
But our spirits arhttp://wamathai.com/wp-admin/upload.phpe high and we shall keep on the fight.

Dreams have been shattered, even though our hopes are still high
Days have been shortened, even though we long for night fall
Diaries are no more, even though the pages are not full
But our spirits are high and we shall keep on the fight.

We uphold your beauty, even though an intruder thinks otherwise
We marvel at your sight, even though disaster could strike anytime
We acknowledge your purpose, even though your strength may be no more
We refuse to let go, even though we lose everyday
But our spirits are high and we shall keep on the fight.

© petty vincent

*** This poem is in support of the Breast cancer awareness month

His charismatic fingers feeling up the rice and beans
I cooked
he offers me promise
and
i imagine coconut filled dreams
Making up the seeds of the beginning
of magic
some supernatural enchantment takes me over
I get grand illusions
An overwhelming desire to make him
part of my empire
to conquer the world and name him my sire
my elevated character squire
I laugh softly
I begin, slowly
creating another totally different character to mimic his nature
For me his oneness with the creator is the opening of my eye
To the greatness that is within all of us
My devotion to his grandeur lives within his balding head
Loving his unnatural attention to detail
And with his hands inside mine we lay side by side
On his bed
Always his bed never mine
always Dreaming
Him of our future and me of chocolate cake and digestives
Digestives….mmmmm….
Sorry I digress… as we sit
This new character unfolds
Created by a lack of divorce and a old breakup
This second character asks me to be part of him,
Promise me; he whispers
Urgently, forcefully, lovingly, finally gently
Promise me; promise me that you will be my promised!
how I say no to this plea from a new lover?
This new heartbreaker of my old tired heart pleases me
my cold embrace has never had enough of his newness
it seems we manage to find love even in the coldest
parking spaces and empty fields
he breathes desire into my lackluster dress and awakens my moans
only startling cows and backwards asses..
we continue on promising to never fall in love with less than desire
keeping open paths to more than devotion, adoration
him buying me with horrible red roses
and I with white tobelerone and stupid nude poses

© ami jasho

Sometimes i sit all by myself,
Stare…
Peer into nothing in particular,
My eyes wonder about,
I get lost in some sort of miasma,
My grip on time dwindles…
surroundings seemingly begin 2 move,
as if twirling round n round. my mind follows suit.
and well………………………………
then reality bites me and i snap out of it
just to realize its one of those moments.

© Nakoli Maloba