Supreme Appeal

Lord I implore you,

If they cannot heed my pleas,

Let them hear the roar

Of my unbroken silence,

The cry for justice—

I weep not for me

But my unborn child,

Nipped in the bud,

Strangled by the cord

Lord I implore you,

If they disregard my opinions,

Let them respect my wishes

As is every dying man’s last request

I wish to be laid in the sacred groove

Besides my fellow fallen heroes

Their company will console my soul

And I will forever rest in peace

Lord I implore you,

Lend your eyes and ears

To the fury of my oppressors

Do not allow them the satisfaction

Of rejoicing in my afflictions

Struck them Lord, O father

With the ten plagues of Pharaoh

Withhold their healing and salvation

Till the seventh bath O'Naman 

Midnight Thief

You cruel monster,

You who maliciously

Like the shrewd serpent,

Stealthily crept into the beds

Of our very loved ones

In the middle of the night

Without warning or clue,

And stole their souls,

What do you want from us?

You snatched them away

Before our watchful eyes,

And delighted in our sorrow

With murderous relish

Your malevolent spirit is accursed,

You wander the width and breadth of our land

Prowling and growling like the leopard in the moo tree

Tormenting the living with your doom and gloom

Your insatiable greed for blood has no edge

You have robbed us our loved ones—

Children, parents, relatives, and friends

With one lick of the tongue, you made us

Childless, orphaned, widowed, and lonely

I Want To Write

These words, they say

Will be the end of me

I want to write and write

And write again and again

Yet every word I write

Takes the very life I owe

Every second does count,

‘Tis the tief man of my hour

So let me write a little more

Till I breathe my very last

These words, I say to you

Have a soul of their own

I breathe my soulful life

Into each and every word

Creating a whole new being

With every new sentence

Like babies, killing mothers

Every word kills me a little

I die that these words may live

Speaking to every one of you

Even long after I am gone

I want to write, I tell you

A poem without any words

You will sense it and feel it

But you’ll not read it out aloud

I want to write a love letter too

To the one woman I really love

It will be engraved in the stars

She wont read it out aloud either,

But she’ll get my message clearly

With every beat of her pulsing heart

The Sun Goes Down

Clad in a dark, gloomy face, the sky frowns at us—

The sun goes down, casting crowns of shadows

Darkness sets in, suddenly swallowing up the earth

The hooting of an owl, piercing through the night

Spells the inevitable doom and gloom

Lightning strikes with furry, lighting fires in the sky

Thunder cracks a whip that tears through the atmosphere

And the curtain in the temple is torn in two

Surely, she was a good woman- a loving, caring mother

Hollowness grips our souls in a cold embrace

The loss and pain are unbearable, 

The future, grim and dim, stares and grins at us,

With a mischievous relish written all over its face

The iroko tree has fallen to the ground

Our pillar is gone and our cords are loose

We fall apart and scatter, scampering like rats

The rains come and go, children are born and named

Soon afterwards, time steals our sorrows

Even the crying stone of Khayega weeps no more

We rise to the sounds of Isukuti in the heart of the night

The ground shakes and we stump our feet in rhythm

Chants of Mulongo render the atmosphere gay with celebrations

It is the eve of circumcision festivals of the Abukusu

The fierce bulls of Ikolomani, mad with weed

Make dust off the grasses of Bukhungu stadium

The crowds cheer in maddening uproars

Flagged by Kwalwale, the bull fighter

Who can dare resist life’s enchantment,

And the magic of our native land?

The sun goes down,

Yet, it rises again in the wake of dawn-

We are swallowed in the darkness of today

Only to wake up in the sunrise of tomorrow,

With fresh dreams and aspirations

It is a new dawn, and a new life awaits,

Beckoning with promises of brighter days

The gods were sleeping

We listened to the hooting owl,

Declaring death upon our house.

Where were the gods of our land

When our loved ones were struck?

Are their ears so deaf, they can’t hear

The supplications of the faithful ones?

Are their eyes so blind they can’t see,

The malicious ploys of the evil one?

The great iroko tree has fallen

To the malicious axe of the evil one,

Scattering our natural habitation

Like headless chicken we fret,

Scampering in all directions

We have fallen apart with no discernible order

Who will pick our broken bones?

"The Thing I Love"

Today,
With my bow and arrow,
I killed the thing I love.
Cupid must have been busy,
Overwhelmed by the many shots you took
That when I drew mine and aimed,
I killed it instead.

I swear I'm not a murderer.
Yet I murdered it's heart.
With my obstinacy,
And insidiousness
I'm as guilty as charged—
A murderer.
A sleuth mongrel.

I sniffed and snuffed
Its fragrance,
With one whiff and puff
I murdered it.

Let the daggers be drawn
In revenge and defense,
I stand trial.
What hath I,
Left to save,
An empty shell?

Secret Vows

“Dear lover,

We took our vows

In the secrecy of the night,

‘To love, honor and cherish each other’

Under the night sky,

The stars were our witnesses,

The moon was our confidant

In the glimmer of the moonlight,

Two shadows stood erect,

Love struck and spellbound by cupid

Our fate was sealed

For twenty years and counting,

We have watched the sunrise and fall,

With dreams and aspirations of a new dawn

Like the old stars,

Our journey has been long but fruitful

Full of cries and laughs of the little ones,

The joys of motherhood

I am not perfect,

You bring out the best in me

I plead my allegiance

To those vows twenty years ago

Do not be wary of the dark,

Nor the dangers of the park

I will be there to hold your hand

Letter to the gods

"Dear gods,

My minions and I are not a happy lot

Not at all—

You've been so generous

What a season of boon

For the faithfuls!

You've found harvest tenfold

No souls lured in a decade

For many are your righteous servants

Who else's left to deceive,

With the faithful congregations

So keen on the angelic train?”

Signed, 

“The Devil”




Copyright 2014 | the-speaking-poet | Boneace Chagara