Three teardrops

In the hollow of my empty room

There was an echo of a ticking clock

And by each second hand a leaking tap

A maddening frequency

Followed by a frightening silence

An aloof reflection of my wretched being

An echo of cold desertion

And the first salty tear dropped

Upon the agonizing twist of my lips

And taste left my tongue

The second cascade trickled

Along the contours of my tender cheeks

And softness left my heart

The last cruel silvery leak

Flooded the valley of my nostrils

And breath left my life.

Song of the Jungle Gypsy

I was lost then

In the busy of your mean streets

Its drowning deafening noise

Men of crusty souls creeping in the dark

To worship their neon gods

But I am found now

On the comfort of the soft undergrowth

Looking up the tall trees

As the sun rays pierce through the canopy

Leaning forward to kiss the earth

I left footprints on every city street

Yet home at last is my gypsy soul

In the very palms of the creator

His mountains, His rivers and swamps

From gorge to gorge, meadow to meadow

My books of veined leaves

Lifting fluttering young birds to fly

I have loved the wilderness

For loving humans is painful

For it has loved me in return

In the end it’s the jungle’s fragrance

The scent of goodness that remains

And so when the clouds let forth

I will lift my face to the skies

And drink directly from the cup of God.

Lost letter.

In this city whose charms have fled

I took a walk along ruins painted red

Among the rubble I picked a letter and it read

“Here in the damp of a lost war

On a paper soaked with blood and sweat

And a pen with a burnt end

I write this letter to you

Is how the end of my days is spent

The pen grows heavier than my gun

For homely regards absent love

Would be just ink stains upon some line

I would set it on a raven’s claws

And whisper your name to its ears

But all this love will tire its wings and weigh it down

So I set it on the wings of hope

And pray it gets to you someday

If I shall fall to my foe

Gather what remains of me

Plant a whistling pine on my grave

On my headstone these words engrave

‘Here from the depths rises his soul’

Think of me always

When you sit under its cool shade

Listening to its symphony against the wind

Think of me always

I deserve that of you

For having always thought of you

How to make you happy

Be so”


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


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.