Lakeside ballads.

The thankless pauper. ( Nyamgondho Kombare)

Riches come with cause it is said

Hard work must also be paid

Poverty made him tremble and shake

Till the day he was rescued by the fairy from the lake.

 

A bride he got without paying dowry

Casting away all the doubts and worry

Thanks to the warm welcome and kindness

He showed to the lake goddess

 

His home took custody of different possessions

He forgot the source and took to riches obsession

When finally came the fateful day

No changing mind she was on her way

 

She led the riches back to her swirling origin

There he stood at the margin

Begging and watching the livestock disappear

Back to oblivion never again to reappear

 

He pondered on the sight in despair

From hero to zero because of a broken pair

Lake, wife, riches, misfortunes come in three

Ungratefulness turned him to a pondering tree

DUSK AT DAWN

Here is a two verse folk sonnet I wrote sometime back;

Illustration,  Maasai warrior, pencil on paper by yours truly;

Dusk at dawn.

Endure O mighty warrior of ancient valor

The wounds are worth the course achieved

Endure before the starry skies loses its splendor

For then shall your wounds and soul be relieved

For then shall the cock crow your hopes awake

For then shall the earliest farmer catch your sight

And those looks of despair brightened before daybreak

They shall commend you for the good fight.

Endure O mighty warrior the dark quiet path

The crickets have gone to sleep hasten your weak strides

The moon shall go to rest far from the sun’s wrath

The hyena might trace the blood trails on lust it rides

Endure for your girls is at home waiting for you

For then she shall wipe your tears, your blood too

 

 

The gods are on your side but O fate

Swift destroyer of all living beings

Hasten your strides, hold your breath before its late

Before your soul responds as the underground bell rings

Remove the arrow O it’s barbed, the wound bleeds

Wipe the blood O it flows, the wound is fresh

Every bleeding drops of red on the earth are seeds

That later indemnifies new life from soil to flesh

I can hear the shrill sounding of the morning crow

The sky will soon be clear, the gods done their part

Watching over us at night the stars twinkling low

O mighty warrior your weary body and soul apart

Lies low in your noble blood, the victory sought is won

Rise, enjoy the victory, serene sleep your dusk at dawn.

 

 

 

Play me something sweet.

Play me something sweet

Like a girl’s at home waiting for me

Or when you stop by a spring

And you are thirsty

And the water is cool

 

Play me something sorrowful

With the weeping of a broken heart

With the rhythm of a sobbing chest

Play it slowly

At the pace of a flowing tear

 

Play me something divine

An epiphany of God’s love

Of earthly vanity and His forgiveness

Lift my feet to the clouds

And set me on a trip heaven bound.

 

 

PS; Inspired by Cold mountain

Illustration; Yours truly, playing the Harmonica.

I saw her today.

Word came across the hills and plains

That life had smiled upon my beloved

That she was swinging the world by the tail

And from the caves of precious stones

A husband molded of Gold and fire

And I a thousand miles yonder

With only good will and rhyme

My desired love married to fortune

But I saw her today

Or I thought I did

For before my eyes was a caricature

Of what she once was.

Misery all over her aged stature

Time must run fast in her world

Or marriage strike with an ageing potion

Did the caves of precious stones crumble?

And gold faded to dirt?

And beauty withered with it?

Her hair once long and black

Now stunted, brown from dust and toil

But in her eyes she was once beautiful

There was promise in her smile

That still rose beyond the misery

And there shone before my eyes

The tempting slumbers of nostalgia

If I could relive the past

I would beseech the gods

Make me puppeteer of her heart.

Grandpa’s guitar.

My tiny fingertips got a pulse

Of swollen pain and blood

My heart kept a chord

But grandpa’s guitar was old

And so the strings pricked and cut

Yet music was in me

Like colours hidden in the curve of a shell

Music was in me

Like ripe honeycombs in the cleft of some rock

And so I played till my fingers bled

And dashed into the cornfields

In whose silence I could weep undisturbed.

Two worlds apart.

One earth two worlds apart

Girl child disappears between thickets

Beneath a load of kindling

A diva loath the sight of gruel

To live on beef and silver cutlery

Tough son of rustic toil

To become one with soil

An aristocrat overflow in indulgence

A life of satisfaction and sweet content

What is more painful to a widow?

Than the melancholy of solitude

A young fair find pleasure in divorce

With aim: it comes with fortunes

One Earth, two worlds apart.

Fisher boy.

Fisher boy leaps headfast to embrace the shore

To claim the spoils of distant tides

One dime string on a bendy stick

Two time swoop and an empty hook

Third and fourth angling sun upon his back

Empty bucket still

And resolve strong as steel

Wipes his brow and picks a worm

Sails from the horizon dock

Dusk is nigh and heels start home

Little boy on scorched rock howls

“Sailors, ere long we shall match our catch!”