In this Nairobi

By T. Michael Mboya

Here comes the man

your mother in Uriya[1]

warned you against

in tale, song and proverb

that kept alive

the fire in the hearth.

Moving

By T. Michael Mboya

These go into the pickup truck first

The hard bulky stuff

the beds, the bedside tables,

the dressing tables and their stools

(detach those long mirrors

lay them on the floor

Of the boot of the car)

the mattresses

the computer desk and its chair

the reading tables and their chairs

the book shelves

the TV stand

the sofa set, the coffee table

the stools and the pouffes

the dining table and its seats

the fridge, the gas cooker

and the gas cylinder

the satellite dish can perch

on the dining table

Take these crates, too

they are books

Lean the wall hangings

against them

and besides these, supporting them

that box of shoes.

Postcard

By t. Michael Mboya

The Wedgwood Bed and Breakfast,

Melville, Johannesburg

10.10.2016

Are my eyes opening in a dream?

Or is a dream opening my eyes?

The furniture in the room floats

In still steel-grey half-light

Dear God: Selected Poems Now Out in PDF - Get Your Copy!

By Karani Kelvin.

When I first shared the link of my ebook Dear God: Selected Poems (2016), I was humbled by the amazing response it received. But perhaps what was more humbling is this -  that a good number of you wrote personally to me, and some of you even called, to not only wish me well but to give me suggestions as to how you felt this enterprise could best be undertaken.

This our home

By Karani Kelvin.

Let us say

Tomorrow has already come

The country we had known

is no more

Its gone with our dreams and wishes

With our get rich quick schemes

With our freedoms and rights

With our big five and silver beaches

With our senseless demos and politics

And the fruits of our labor

Are bodies lying in the open

Heads split and stomachs slit

Covered in blood soaked mud

Nothing moves, not our fiery tongues

That once cheered us into streets

Not our hungry ears and roving eyes

Even the crows and hyenas are still

Aware that this is their last meal

Ashes of what was once progress

Floats about, lazily, landing like

a child's steps on the charred earth.

What then, compatriots, was the need

for tribes, coalitions and plain greed ?

Can any of these raise the dead?

Storm, Uref1

By t. Michael Mboya

Driven by whistling wind

The drumming of the rain

Becomes melodic

Sings the trees to frenzy

   And beckons the spirits

My chest heaves

   My spirit is stretching his wings

I rise and walk to the window

   My spirit is flapping with the trees

This trance dance

The trees shaking off frail leaves

This trance dance

My spirit shaking off frail feathers

Nyasaye Nyakalaga²!

Somalia

By Karani Kelvin.

Forlorn

Crushed

Failed by her own body

She sits

Teary eyed

Lips dry and cracked

A river bed in drought

Her body has

Relinquished

Its power

Viciously attacked from within

It has let go

 And the cancer
             Is going for her soul!