Africa

By Karani Kelvin.

Your glowing ebony smile

sublimely spreads over your

soul, tattooed by years of

calculated turmoil. Your

seductive dance draws all in

 and haven’t they flooded

the dance floor of your life!

Like rain on sandy shores

torrents of hope, of resources

flow out like water poured

in a sack. In quiet moments

you hum with your children

of long ago: “We shall overcome,

someday!” How long shall we

wait for the chains to fall off

like wings of a fly over fire?

Family, friends

By Abraham O’Obunga

When I was sick,
And my mother,
My only parent,
Called on your help,
You all went silent.

Priest please

By Arnold Mutugi 

As youths yawn and yearn
Some spiritual and others sexual nourishment,
With an erect fatherly finger you
Condemn condoms and contraceptives…

On the Mpeketoni Attack

By Karani Kelvin.

It was the hour of death

Gunshots cracked, bombs went off

Buildings burnt and chaos

Drowned the silent night

The sky’s crimson face cringed

Our hearts beat hard in their cages

Frightened to inertia

Like a gazelle in a crocodile’s mouth

We stood each at his door

Waiting for our time

Are you the one?

By Ajah Eric.

           The second week of your first year in campus, a place you dreamt to reach by all means. You worked tirelessly to reach ……

These humans

By Vincent Lungai.

O’er Chinese roads and underpasses
We all converge in classes
Basking in bodily grease and political sludge
Watching the sky and waiting for the tide to bulge
Toyota, Nissan, PSV…matatus vroom past
Dust and smoke, like a bomb blast
Reawakens the sleeping contagions
Cough! Cough!
Sneeze! Ouch! Wipe off!
We tread along, balancing on slanting soles
Hoping for good tidings to appease lorn souls
As the moon calls the sun to sleep
We slither into our holes to weep
For dreams unmet and unconsummated promises
Like Thomases
Dreams of tomorrow thwarting today die unsung
In these places…our homes

They killed a dream

By Eric Lungai.

There was a healthy foetus 
That yearned to be born.
Its life was terminated
And a dream was killed 

Poacher

By Karani Kelvin.

She says:
You sing praises to me
Like you would a goddess
I am your princess, your queen
I am the one you’ve been waiting for
You have never seen hair this long
This black, this strong, this real
You’ve never seen eyes like these
And papaws this firm, full and ripe
Never seen hips and legs this curved
Chiseled perfectly by the master carpenter
Not bought overseas from a dingy shop
You’ve seen one ravishingly beautiful
With brains that can end global warming
But I know what you want, what you all want
A poacher has no business with the flesh
However sweet and tender. All they ever want
Is the ivory; you are no different!

When I’ll sing my own song

By Eric Lungai.

A time may come when I’ll sing my own song,
And that time is coming fast.
I’ll sing my own song,
Perhaps a lyrical song colored with joy,
And maybe a dirge bursting with sorrow

Clinging Memories

By Eric Lungai.

Teach me again
How to sleep facing the wall,
How to put on again,
Burdening pajamas at night;
And waking up clutching tight to a pillow,
As if that is the lone right.

Letter to the unborn

By Eric Lungai.

Do not feel the haste to come
Oh you, the unborn, the unsinned.
Why would you want
To come wrestle for survival
In this unending war of servitude
Of a life?

Kristie's Neighbours

By Abraham O’Obunga

Kristie nearly lost her life while she was giving birth to her third child. It came with complications that unlike the previous ones which she had successfully carried out at her house, she had to be rushed to the nearest hospital. The doctors operated her to reduce chances of her having a still birth. Although she gave birth to a bouncing baby boy, she lost a lot of blood during the operation. 

Is This Really Love?

By Abraham O'Obunga

When I text,
She says call.
And when I call,
She says, 'later,
I'm engaged.'
When I mute,
'I have another one.'
What do I do,
Cupid?

Abraham O’Obunga is a student at Moi University.

The silent housewife

By Vincent Lungai.

Beyond the ridge, lived a silent housewife
Who said, “I killed my husband with a penknife!
And buried him by the river
To share in the water’s shiver 
Poor dead husband of a silent housewife!

Follow Vincent Lungai on Facebook.

The nose

By Vincent Lungai.

There lived a young lad by the shore
Whose nose was covered in ore
And many traveled from afar to witness
And tell lore’s of his nasal fitness! 
Long live the famous nose by the shore

Follow Vincent Lungai on Facebook.

#TBT The Writers Cooperative in Pictures

Today we take a journey down memory lane (forgive the cliche) and re-live some of the wonderful moments of the collective. Are you in any of these pictures? Is there anyone you know who is?