The wanderer’s mission.

A voice whispered in the night

And with assuring command bid me leave

I adamant continued my sleep

And in the quiet of dawn

A Churning whirlwind passed by

Nothing remains of my hut.

 

Now I wander in the woods

Enjoying odor of fresh pine

Spilling dew off flowers

Now I wander the grazing fields

Waking the little shepherd boy

Who has fallen fast asleep

On the back of a grazing ox

Now I wander in desolate homesteads

Receiving alms of food and drink

And back on my way again

Undressing the cob in haste

Just to savour it a grain per mile.

 

So I’ll wander on riding on kindness,

Till I have built a warm hut in every heart,

For all wanderers coming after.

Then the churning whirlwind will come again

And clear all sorrows away

Then the whisper in the night

Will call me back home.

 

 

PS; Illustration is a picture yours truly hehe.

 

 

 

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She rests up on high.

Many years have gone now

Her grave flattened and sprout

Whenever I pass by that field

I think of death’s mean hands

I see her seated in April’s long grass

Catching hoppers for the kids

Teaching them the Alphabet and math

One plus one equals two happy souls

And good plus good brings heaven on earth

Childlike air to maiden age.

 

If to heaven none has gone

Then it’s just the two of them

Her and God – seated at His feet

She rests up on high,

Only a little lower than the angels.

 

How can I tell this?

Without such interrupting tears

It is us who were insane

For having not seen the world – life

Through her eyes; – and for that

The world doesn’t deserve her still.

They thought her a flowerless fern

I say she was Aaron’s blooming staff!

 

In loving memory of my sainted sister Linda. May God Rest her soul.

 

 

 

 

 

At the crossroads of dreams.

At the crossroads of dreams

stands two divine envoys

white angel with dazzling halo

dark angel with flaming torch.

 

Approach your glory humbly

on the back of a mule

or come down fast falling

from your high tower.

Sweat annihilation

You have so taken over my life

I have forgotten about poetry

and my life has become a beautiful poem,

I have abandoned my lyre

and your laughter has become my music

I have forgotten about painting

my brushes on the ground lie scattered

your smile has become my canvas

Hail the King of Hearts!

Secret whispers

Etched on sisal leaves

With treacherous thorns

Of scorn and folly

Of such thorns made me a crown

They whisper in the dark

“He is mad with grief

Struck his own heart

By sword of mad delusion”

Blood and pain covers my brow,

From their crown of scorn.

At night they giggle and mock,

they laugh at my hopeless passions,

But at day they smile and bow

from those vile tongues greet me,

“Hail the King hearts!”

 

 

 

Rocking gourd.

Rocking gourd

happy gourd

Be merry on my lap

Pay heed to my charming songs.

Custodian of Dwasi’s bountiful udder

Roll and whirl on your trusty curves

Polished over ages by caring hands

Churn this milk smooth and sweet

Reward the shepherd’s feat

White mustache over happy smiles

Butter for seasoned herbs

Rocking gourd

Happy gourd

Be merry on my lap

And pay heed to my charming song.

 

 

Ps. Dwasi – Luo word for cow that gives out milk.

Me and my gourd 

Stray dog

A stray dog once lived

In an old dusty town

With the meanest street

Kicked out of every doorstep

Even now and then broke his legs

Seeking food from their bins.

With tortured skin sunk between ribs

He stayed in town limping still.

 

One day a stranger strolled to town

A kind traveler packing food

Threw the dog crumbs and patted his head

The stranger resumed his sojourn

And off with him he went

Never again to be seen

 

Now the dog lies in content

Resting his chin on his forelimbs

Dusting the roadside with its tail

He ever waits on his new friend

Like clothes lying on a shore

Awaits the return of a refreshing swimmer.