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Best Kenyan Poems

Below are the all-time best Kenyan poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of Kenyan poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Letter to Kenyan Electorate by Mwashighadi, Kilalo
Kenyan Flag by Kimathi, Teddy
In Support of a Kenyan Teacher by Mwashighadi, Kilalo
My Three Kenyan Friends by Rix, Gwendolen
A healthy Kenyan Ego Poem by for Poetry and poems in Kenya, Kenyan Poets Lounge

View all new Kenyan Poems

The Best Kenyan Poems

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

What I Like

Don’t you know I like things sweet?
Sewage water and pickled feet
Noses that run like Kenyan jocks
And year old milk that’s kept in socks
Don’t you know I like things wild?
Little old ladies with crocodiles
Butterflies and taser guns 
Grizzly bears that have the runs

Copyright © misty hunter | Year Posted 2009

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

Africa, O Africa

Africa, O Africa!
Home to such wonder and diversity- 
From the Sahara to the Namib
Up the Highlands and down to the Savanna
From the serpentine Nile to the great Kiliminjaro
And from the Rain Forests to the Serengeti-
How we have loved you!
But your love is bittersweet
Your lips drip with honeycomb
Alas, your kiss is the kiss of death.
You slash and you burn
You rape without giving back
Spiritism pollutes the very air you breathe
Your snow-capped mountains bury secrets
While your ancient rivers run crusty dry.

O Africa, sweet land of the ages!
Your lush forests and plains breathe life-
From the Wildebeest to the Lion
The stately Giraffe to the powerful Rhino
From the Great White Elephant to the Boa
And from the Chimp to the Gazelle-
How awestruck we are!
But your lust for wealth is insatiable 
Your desire for riches has blinded you
Mother earth gently weeps.
The rifle has become your lover
The machete your constant companion
And with your slaughtering knife you maim
The spirits of the dead have left for
A distant land - never to return.

Africa, my Africa!
An eclectic people you have always been-
From the Masai to the Aborigine
The Ethiopian to the Egyptian
From the Hutu to the Tustsi
And from the Kenyan to the Zulu-
How impressive you are!
But your tribes embrace hate
The killings, O God - the killings
Weep for your children, the innocent babes.
The graveyards are not yet full
Sheol hungers for her prey
Hades cries out for more victims
Satan presides from his throne on a crag
His angels are giddy with lusty delight.

Africa, our Africa!
Look deep inside yourself
Into the very depths of your soul.
Return to us with humble heart
For you are beautiful
Yes, you are beautiful-
And we love you

*For the photo

O Child Not Mine

I hear your cries, O child not mine
I sense your anguish and despair
your shattered heart whispers sad songs
your crushed spirit yearns for release

a world gone mad in a universe of madness
chilling tales told by old women
the rantings of useless and wayward men

what can be done to save a soul
who will speak for the downtrodden
who will listen to the desperate pleas

I reach out to you, O child not mine
your broken heart I shall mend
your silent pleas have touched me deeply
places concealed have been exposed

chaos reigns among the created ones
claims of godliness are circumspect
the trumpet blows, demands an accounting

who will teach the little ones
who will take up the cause
what will it take to move the hearts of men

I am here for you, O child not mine
with songs of love and tranquility
wings of protection are mine to give
freely I do give them to you

yes, freely I do give them to you


Copyright © The Seeker | Year Posted 2016

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

Purge Our Consciences

From my lowly bachelor’s house
Proudly christened ‘Embassy Fair’
I woke up to the chirping of birds
On the trees above and across the vale
And the riverine bushes in-between
I woke up to the crowing of cocks
And the mooing of cows
I woke up to the leaping of calves
And the bleating of anxious goats;
To the braying of the donkey
The barking of my brother’s dog
And to the mumbling of the sheep.

There was no time to brood
Or think negative thoughts
Or linger on yesterday’s deeds.
I opened up all my senses
And voluptuously drank of the new day.
As my feet stroked the dew
On my way to the reserve fields
My eyes fathomed Mt. Ithangune
The eastern fortress of Mt. Kenya
Itself a mere one thousand feet higher.
Then we were mountain warriors
And our locale elevated us accordingly 
Leaving no room for flippancy
Even when it was flipping cold.

Times were when our men grazed there
On the slopes of Kirima kia Ng’ombe
Times were when Omo elders made rain there
Little did we know then (as now?)
That the God of Rain had slumbered
And demanded pure white fattened rams
Delivered by pure white-haired men
Whose penance upon the mountain
Would atone the sins of the Meru clans
And make our mountain God weep
And let his tears soften our rich soils
To ward off barrenness once more
And banish famine from our midst;
And as our fast-flowing rivers swelled
So, too, our cattle and our granaries.

For although our God lived at the apex
Yet he allowed us to get this close
And so to commune with him
Without touching his garment
Craftily spread over the three peaks.
Krapf and Rebmann never knew this
They were mere trekkers, mere explorers
Of a continent pregnant with mystery
That their kinsmen sought to make a home,
A distant home away from home.

Was the first man to see Mt Kenya
To which I responded, ‘Really? Aren’t you kidding?’
So what kind of men were the mountain warriors-
Blind men? The Meru, the Kikuyu, the Embu,
The Wakamba, the Masai, the Samburu, the Borana-
Were they all blind men then? Stone blind-
All those Africans that had known it before Krapf?

Desecration followed desecration
As alien men sought to climb Mt Kenya
And alien men sought to expropriate
Not just a field but all our land.
From a handful of missionaries and clerks
To shiploads of coolies and soldiers
To throngs of settlers and administrators
To segregation, imposition and subjugation
Till the people- wary, weary and desperate
Rose from the caves, valleys and forests
From every blessed nook and cranny
Chanting MAU, MAU, MAU, MAU
(Mwingereza Aende Ulaya
Mwafrica Apate Uhuru- 
White Man Return to Europe
African man Attain Independence!)

Though a youngster and much afraid
I sang that, too, in my youthful heart
Forbidden, I still sang it, in my heart
For I had seen the sword on my mum’s throat
As they sought to extract a confession
I had seen the village burn down
And I had seen the limp body of a fighter
Paraded through the village paths
But that was over half a century ago
And although I had seen the aftermath
Of Kaya Bombo and Kaya Tiwi in Kwale
On my way here (but thought it a dream)
And the agony of the 1998 Al Qaeda attacks
I had not seen much else; nor will I ever see
The likes of Eldoret, Nakuru, or Naivasha
After the 2007 election- I ardently pray not
For this is not the white man in Africa
That we are up against, surely not here
Not this long after regaining our independence
No! Not here in my beloved, bounteous Kenya.

It is commercial and political greed
A vicious, ugly cross-breed beast perhaps
That is all there is, that is all there can be
And these we must banish from our hearts
For who can bear to see Kenyan blood
Flowing down River Tana or Athi or Nzoia
Or swelling the banks of Lake Victoria, Nakuru or Turkana?
Who can plead such a case before God
And come away with his soul intact?
Have the Kenyan people not chosen
Through a brand new constitution
Their route to freedom, justice and progress?
Have they not decreed their own destiny?
Let me hear it from you and you and you
Whose hand or sword or bullet or arrow
Was stained by the blood of woman, man or child
Let me hear it from you who schemed or aided
And you who lent your tongue or thought
Or simply sought refuge in silence and waited
For something, anything to happen to ‘them.’
Let me hear you say, ‘Enough, enough!
Purge our consciences O Mighty One!’

Copyright © Gerald Kithinji | Year Posted 2013

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

A cracked ground

	By Ombuge Moses

You sleep on a crack ground
Empty is the stomach
Hot is the sun
Nothing to quench the crack
The thirst is killing
Cracked is my throat
Helplessly you lay
You sleep on a crack ground

Your cry is echoing
My ears cannot stop
My tears cool my cheeks
My face is running dry
You sleep in a crack ground
Forever never to see you again
Mama has followed you
Death has come

It’s so helpless
Who to run to
They promised food
They brought food
They promised water
They brought water
We need food
We need water
We are dying of hunger, of thirst
Who will take care of me the orphan?
Will I die before the next food come?
Will I die before the next water come?
Will I die like Baba?
Will I lay helpless to death like Mama?
Heavenly GOD
Your mercy
I cry indeed
In need
Not In want

When they saw us dying
They brought canned food
When they saw us dying
They brought bottled water
This is a customary issue, problem
Death of hunger
Thirst to death
The solution is death, for me
For you, solution- canned food, bottled water
We need a source
Give us a water source
To plant the seed
To eat from our labor
Weeding, Oh! How is it done?
Irrigating the plant
Nurturing the crop
To live to see a generation
A healthy life
An ordinary way to live
To this

You sleep on a cracked ground
You sleep in a cracked ground
Dead, you are gone
I your son,
Tonight, I sleep on a cracked ground
If I see tomorrow, I will bury you Mama
I will water your grave Baba
If they give me a water source
Bottled one, I will quench
The thirst that killed you Mama
Use the source to irrigate
Plant a seed, to grow food
A generation
A future
A healthy mind
Never to sleep
A cracked ground
God, to guide
A Kenyan, for a generation

Copyright © Moses Ombuge | Year Posted 2011

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

A Clowder Of Cats And A Murder Of Crows

For those avid crossword groupies of which I are one,
I'm offering free of charge vital data to add to your fun.

So you're stuck on 15-down for the name of a barren of mules!
Groups of creatures you can now name if you use this set of rules!

A group of apes is a shrewdness and a gang of asses is a pace.
Tigers are a streak and you'd better streak should they give chase!

Can you believe that skittish plovers are called a congregation?
(I wonder, perhaps Baptist, Lutheran, Catholic or other denomination?)

You might see a cackle of hyenas or a tower of giraffes at zoos,
Or if on a Kenyan safari a bloat of hippos or a fleet herd of gnus.

The name for a prickle of porcupines is an appropriate moniker for sure!
A sleek bunch of ferrets is called a business, and, why, I'm unsure.

Pesky squirrels are called a scurry and a warren is for rabbits.
(There are many warrens of rabbits due to their promiscuous habits!)

Badgers are grouped as a cete and leopards are known as a leap;
Moles are known as a labor and a herd or drove identifies sheep.

Parliaments of owls meet in trees and eagles in convocations.
Jellyfish waft about in smacks and peacocks strut in ostentations!

Screeching cormorants are a gulp which sounds mighty weird.
Steer clear of a crash of rhinos since they are to be feared!

Charming finches are called a charm and larks an exaltation,
Turkeys a rafter, frogs an army and starlings a murmuration.

Locusts are known as a plague and cockroaches an intrusion.
An unkindness of ravens and their raucous caws just causes confusion!

Groups of humans are known as Republicans, Democrats or Nazarenes,
Jerks and morons but this barely includes all human species by any means!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2014

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

Africa saves her daughter

Africa Kills Her Sun in Ken Saro-Wiwa short story
So far the greatest short story  i've ever read
Where the blackest pen lives
With the blackest ink with the darkest hue
Yet the blackest truth out there even to this day
Of the oppression, dictatorship, killings, fear, corruption and discrimination 
A call for freedom
Africa still living in the shadows of colonialism 

But Africa took an initiative, a positive compass

Mary Muthoni Nyanjiru, an unsung hero
Shot dead during the colonial era for her fight against colonialism 
Wangari Maathai, the first African woman to win the Nobel peace prize
She planted one tree at a time, a voice for the environment, a fighter for women rights
Charity Kaluki Ngilu has played many roles in politics
One of the first kenyan female presidential candidates
I still remember the 1997 elections

Pamela Jelimo and Catherine Ndereba 
Through their marathons, they have paved many seas
I remember those cross country days back in primary school, it was tough 
I applaud you girls

Grace Ogot, East African best known woman author
The mother of Kenyan literature 
Her words had power, and her actions showed it
Captain Irene Koki Mutungi, the first African female dreamliner captain
Flying higher and higher, more girls dreaming higher and higher

Kakenya Ntaiya, among the top 10 CNN heroes of 2013
I've listened to your Ted Talk of "a girl who demanded education"
About how at the age 12 you made a deal with your dad to undergo female circumcision if he would let you go to highschool
And that happened, you even went to college
And then came back and founded a school for young girls

Lupita Nyong'o, it was hard to watch "12 Years a Slave"
Because truth brings out a lot of anger, but at the same time it has to be told
The first Kenyan actress to win an Academy Award.
It nice to see you in magazines but it feels even more nice to know that there is a girl out there in some village
Who now believes it's possible because of you

Africa saved her daughter, and by doing so
It saved all

Sources > coming soon:-)

Copyright © njeri hunjeri | Year Posted 2015

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

In Support of a Kenyan Teacher

In this land we had a President teacher
So was our nice neighbour next door
A fertile ground to hold holy such a duty
An easy guess : respect was far more important
Than what we thought of compensation for labour
That renders throats dry sniffing chalk dust

Only time will tell when will settle the chalk dust
A sunset ago, a gavel gave hope to a teacher
After a century of glittering tearful labour
Now hope of a sincere deal beckoning at the door
No doubt heavier pocket will make light his duty 
Money sweetens always what is already important

In every corner of the land you find among the important
A teacher who rides to the market on a bicycle full of dust
Because he has a family to cater for besides his duty
There is no story more familiar in Kenya than a teacher’s
He accepted to teach in a classroom without a door
And to inspire under such sick conditions of labour

The teacher has earned respect through honest labour
So we must put him up there among the important
Grateful we are to defender who opened him a door
To enjoy the fruits and economy of perfumed chalkdust
To walk an inch higher and remind all: “I am a teacher”
A demonstration of honour to an age old duty

We have finally woken up to our reality of duty 
To those who  polish our brains through hard labour
The doctor up the street and senator have been to a teacher
The syringe makes a doctor, the chalk makes a teacher important
I hope the doctor will know it is the stress and curse of chalk dust 
When a tired smart man consults him behind a closed door

Hope is high up the sky, admin keeping a policy of open door
Who are we not to encourage him in this line of duty?
With further engagements we will settle the dust
And render hopeful around country the classroom labour
We will bring to town a statue in memory of a teacher
For all sectors to know he who holds the bottom is important

 Hope the momentum will not blow on our faces some other dust
And cut short the celebrations with humiliation for our teacher
What this land has achieved in this regard is far too important

Copyright © Kilalo Mwashighadi | Year Posted 2015

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

STORM COMING African tribal violence

Storm coming, madam
Me-- I’m going up country-- 
Lay low and stay sweet*

*stay sweet--stay alive

Victoria Anderson-Throop
Nairobi, Kenya
November 26, 2012

Note: Political unrest near Nairobi, Kenya due to election strategies. Polish nun told me that she was warned by a local moonshine runner to hide. Too late. She was pistol whipped by local police who wanted more protection money. Didn’t get the money (it was a free clinic, so nurses had no money) Police beat the nurse/nuns and absconded with the very rare and precious AIDS meds to sell to the hospitals.Free AIDS clinic was forced to close.(Kenyan government does not have free health care for the poor)   Nuns are recovering then being transferred to other clinics. Three went back to Europe forced into early medical retirement due to permanent injuries sustained by police and/looters. The care program(education and/or placement) for the children whose parents were AIDS patients is gone. Children have taken to the streets in desperation.  Count your blessings.

Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop | Year Posted 2012

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

A healthy Kenyan Ego Poem

A huge ego breaks off love’s embrace,
A tiny ego slips off love’s embrace,
No ego, no embrace of love!

A selfless ego suffocates from love’s embrace,
A selfish ego wards off love’s embrace,
No ego, no embrace of love!

A super-visual ego overshadows love’s embrace,
A deep-seated ego is colonized by love’s embrace,
No ego, no embrace of love!

A healthy ego humbly looks above,
A healthy ego can lead and also serve...

Its nerves know not pressured blood,
But developing it is almost hard!

Copyright © Kenyan Poets Lounge for Poetry and poems in Kenya | Year Posted 2012

Details | Kenyan Poem | |


Open Letter to you,

I hate my speech today, yesterday and the day dust rises.
I was there opening my eyes carelessly, smiling like an idiot
I was gazing shamelessly, walking like an idler without course
Little did I notice my vehicle lose direction; little did I notice my head bleeding
I was just there; the settled dust rising, tables turning, grenades and bullets are now apples
Little did I know the power in my lovely hate speech. 

What pride did we get after slaughtering fellow Kenyans like goats,
What are the stuttering rifles rattling about, are humans turning game,
What are the grenades doing in civilian pockets, are they keys
Why are the churches burning, you cannot tell me tis the holy ghost fire,
What has that neighbour done, why is that policeman lying there,
Why is no body answering me, am I alone, or are you wondering too
Should I assess the power in my lovely hate speech, am concerned.

My love speech I hate you, my hate speech I love you
Both speeches are one, are the same, of same taste, I hate my passion for you
I love my fellow politician, i love his dirge during my friend’s burial
You bleeding mammoth my friend, I like your corrupt tummy
You scavenger of your own carcass, I like your greed for power
You megalomaniac virus of a beloved country, we love you, let us be
Little do we know death will let you release us, How uncertain are we of you.

My eyes are full of your ocean, the palace you exhume immorality
My ears are preoccupied with your desert, the desert devoid of trust, and the just
My nostrils have your pungent infamy, your callous greed, your everything
My mind can’t decipher the thought of your sanity, your policies and you
You make me lose taste, you make me look like you, you make me you
I am youthful to the economy, i am youthful to the wise, am not youthful to your “youth”
Little do i know death will let you release me, How uncertain am i of you.

Am talking about you, what have i said about me? What?
I hope I know the promise in my Kenyan Anthem
I hope I have a plan of getting rid of the chaff, the you
I hope am not you, i hope you don’t like seeing me wise
I hope your son is listening, the son that wants my very own daughter
I hope am the government, the government of me, for me and by me
I hope i know peace, the peace am preaching, the peace you hate. I hope.

Yours Kenyan,
Mzee Emmanuel Mwau.

Copyright © EMMANUEL MWAU | Year Posted 2012

Details | Kenyan Poem | |


We are kenyan superstars,
That is what we are,
Kenya our mother land and pride,
Shines so bright that it cannot fade,
Today we hear,`Kenyan athletes bring home,
Bronze,Silver and Gold,'
Tomorrow,``The Kenya Rugby 7's defeat New zealand again.''

The Maasai culture came up with the Akala sandals,
Which are made out of rubber,
The  luhya introduced  Bull fighting,
The Kalenjin made `mursik' or fermented milk,
And to name but a few communities,
With their diverse cultures.
I believe that kenyans were born great,
To grow up and achieve greatness. 

To become one of the most formidable
Intellects of our time,
Just like the late Mzee Jomo Kenyatta,Dedan Kimathi,
Tom Mboya,Kijana Wamalwa to name but a few,
To change people's reasoning   conclusively,
And make them see reality and not building castle's in the air.

Kenyans were born  great,
Because greatness was thrust upon them,
To change Africa's impoverished state,
And make it a better place,
For you and for me and the entire human race, 
To raise heroes and heroines,
To conquer social evils in the society.

If  we  were born great,
Let us believe in ourselves,
Be contented with whatever we do in our lives,
Let us love one another, live in unity and work
together as a nation,
Let the past be a stepping stone for us to succeed in future,
And leave the rest, to the Almighty God.

Copyright © Kaiga Sandra | Year Posted 2013

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

Freedom Fries

this poem is dedicated to all the victims of the recent paris attacks
and as we all eat our freedom fries
at concerts and sporting events
let us salute their flag

this poem is dedicated to all the victims of the recent paris attacks
facebook and google have painted themselves tricolour
for a few hours

this poem is dedicated to all the victims of the recent paris attacks
we are all french now
they are so much like us
and for the next few soundbite moments

this poem is dedicated to all the victims of the recent paris attacks
but this poem is not dedicated to the more recent victims of the mali attacks
to be honest i don't even know what their flag looks like
do you
no concerts
no silence at football matches
no candles
no special facebook button
no reporters overcome with emotion

this poem is dedicated to the victims of the recent paris attacks
but not the victims of boko haram
or the yazidi communities wiped out by the salafists of saudi arabia
considering everything would it not make a whole more sense if we sung the saudi national anthem
we are all saudi now
not houthi
or doctors tortured in bahrain

this poem is dedicated to the victims of the recent paris attacks
not the people we and our allies ourselves daisy bombed to bits in iraq afghanistan yemen or libya
like those patients and medics slaughtered in a hospital a few weeks ago with american friendly fire
no anthem for them
no shimmering candles
no earnest entertainers
just a sorry we will try not to do it yet again
there may be a cheque after due diligence if you make no trouble and go away
no tears for you
no way
because this means war

this poem is dedicated to the victims of the recent paris attacks
but not the two thousand who died last year in gaza
the five hundred and fifty one children
no songs or poems for them
we were never all palestinian then
no minutes silence for nairobi
we were never kenyan at football matches
the few dozen in lebanon also murdered last week
mentioned on the news
in brief
after the sports
before the weather
yet i don't remember any of our politicians turning lebanese

this poem is dedicated to all the victims of the recent paris attacks
and as we all eat our freedom fries
at concerts and sporting events
let us salute their flag
but probably not the next's

Copyright © Suki Spangles | Year Posted 2015

Details | Kenyan Poem | |


I remember meeting you many years ago
That warm Sunday afternoon 
I remember the love I got from you, your mum, your dad and your sister 
Like an avalanche you guys embraced me with greater love I couldn't have imagined 
I was young student from Kenya new in a world and culture that I couldn't have known how to deal with if it wasn't for people like you
That aurora of love have seen me this far

I remember coming to your soccer games
You were so good
Girl, you made your parents so proud
Your dad was the luckiest of all the dads, because he also was the coach
Like an avalanche, your physical ability and stability won you many games

Then many years later there was separation and divorce, and boom! Things changed from there
But even with the aurora of pain hanging around, you, your mum and your sister still got time to give me the best 21st birthday ever
And from that day, I've been hooked to cheesecake

Then after that we dint hang out as much
I got busy with school
Your mum had to get couple jobs 
Once in awhile me and your mum had dinner 
And did some catching up

She told me about you
Sad news to my ears
The people you hang out with it
The trouble you were getting into

Coming to visit you in jail is one of the hardest things I've ever done
I was so embarassed and scared
I dint know how to approach you in that kind of meeting
You were happy to see me
"Susan, I've made some bad decisions in my life" you said to me
You talked about changing your life; no more guns, no more drugs, no more bad company 
You were so confident 
You weren't scared, I was scared
You had that street aura that nobody can mess with you
You proudly showed your many tattoos that covered you all over
You showed me your muscles too

Your mum says, you are the son your dad never had

The most touching moment for me was when you sang me that Swahili song, the song you guys sang for me the first time we met
I couldn't control my tears coz I remember you as this quite hardworking girl that loved soccer so much
You reminded me of the dinner I had at my place, where I entertained you all with some kenyan cuisine and music
Your grandparents were there too, I respect them so much for their missionary work in Kenya and Zaire

Girl, I love you
I pray for you 
I pray that you may have better years to come
I pray that positive aurora of life will lead you through
I pray that no matter what avalanche befalls on
You; whether positive or negative 
You will have the tools to deal with it

Copyright © njeri hunjeri | Year Posted 2015

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

And Still I Cried

They told me that it was going to be alright,
My daughter what a pride,
Smiling, happy to have joined,
The symphony of military life.
Back then it was alright,
Till they brought her in a coffin,
A body gored without eyes,
A badge of honor,
And the Kenyan flag.

I fodled her shaven head,
Hugged her legless body,
Then I realised I was 60,
And still I cried.

"She's gone to Paradise,
to be with God and the Angels in the sky,
To sing in white and fly like a kite."
None of that could stop the pain of death,
From roaming,
Staring into my eyes telling me that I was weak,
As the priest poured the dust Atop her coffin,
"Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust,we all return,"
The heat, the pain, pins and needles,
The sweat, the blood, the coffin going down,
I was beaten at last.

I covered my eyes, the tears coming in torrents,
Sobbing because she had gone so fast,
lips shaking, teeth rattling, mucus dripping,
The world turned blurry and all went black,
I opened my eyes my friends by my side,
I realised,
That all this while I'd been acting tough,
And still I cry.

Copyright © Titus Daudi | Year Posted 2016

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

Masai Boyfriend

Masai Boyfriend

I’m in love with a Masai Boy
  Tall sable-skinned giant.
In hand, a stick his joy
  Smile; true lips of a saint! 

Wealth: bull, cow and calf
  Safe from creatures feline
Identity, not Masai by half
  But, nomad of a royal line.

Sceptre; his wooden sticks
  Royal Cloth, the red robes...
Savouring gore with licks
  Logs stuck in his earlobes.

“Stands with imposing height 
  “Scanning the Masai Mara
“On a leg of striking might!”
  So writes his lover Clara.   

“High Jumper of renown,”
  Again, she sent the tweets,
“Sound sleep have I known
  “He jumps inside sheets!”

**With Love & Respect for the exemplary fortitude of Kenyan Cultures, whose “imposing height” (evocative of the Masai) is a pride of Human sanctity.

**The Poem is a reflection of, sometimes, a cross-culture and cross-racial marriages that, despite diversity in norms, may bestow a fantastic experience and everlasting bliss.

**With happy memories of my Friend, Gerald Kithinji, a Patriotic Poet of Kenya (his beautiful Homeland.)


02nd Nov’ 2013

Copyright © Joseph Matose | Year Posted 2013

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

Kenyan Flag

scouts stand proud
two spears and shield
immortalizing Kenya's legacy

Name: Teddy Kimathi

Country: Kenya

Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2015

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

My Beautiful Kenya

A nonchalant summers breeze seeps silent through a window 
Left ajar 
Carries soft memories scent of 
Warm kenyan musk air 
Which rests in a deep dark corner 
Faint distant scratching of 
Grasshoppers seranading 
The cumbersome
Boa-bob tree 
Which wavers gently 
At the now noir sea...
As the tiny cream crabs rest their 
Oh so suspicious eyes 
Whilst there's still no peace for the wicked
Damn mosquitos
In my mind to the heavens door 
Tiwi beach 
Once stroked its soothing sand 
Through my course 
Comforted feet 
And I know this place 
Tis beautiful
My very just delight
By the Indian Ocean on a balcony
In the dead of the night x

Copyright © Karen Deeks | Year Posted 2012

Details | Kenyan Poem | |


An effortless stride
A world record performance
A victory lap

Tribute to the great Kenyan runners

Copyright © Thabang Ngoma | Year Posted 2015

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

The Downtrodden Speak

I am baffled, stunned, dumbfounded 
Completely nonplussed by the persistence 
Of the international criminal court
In harassing the popularly elected Kenyan
President and his popularly elected deputy  
As rogue entities terrorize Eastern Europe
The Arab World and my beloved Africa
All around us people are being beheaded
Or otherwise massacred on a whim
Innocent people who would, if free, 
Choose to live and let live in peace
Rather than engage in perpetual
Callous, wanton and unprovoked 
Slaughter of those they despise.

Aljazeera, BBC and CNN daily broadcast
The atrocities committed by the Islamic state
The beheadings are posted on the internet
And broadcast on radio, tv and newspapers
And while the moguls make their millions
In the dissemination of the villainy 
The United Nations looks on puzzled
Or perplexed, mystified or even dazed
By the enormity or complexity of it all
Leaving me to wonder whether 
This world body is not being manipulated
For the ends of a few powerful members
Who believe their fortunes would flourish 
With the weakening of these regions! 

If you can hear me, Ban Ki Moon
Hearken, the downtrodden moan!

Copyright © Gerald Kithinji | Year Posted 2014

Details | Kenyan Poem | |


Intense with emotions I feel the pain,
Tearful inside for the 147 students slain,
Mainstream media say they struck again,
Al-shabaab, what do I to my people explain,
That I am innocent, that I am just a Kenyan.

You struck while people were asleep,
How cowardly of you, how weak,
Now unfortunate, now I can't speak, 
For people brand me names, all day I weep.

Garissa University, called for its closure,
No developments, no more Northern Frontier,
Sanctions, to other provinces no exposure,
Oh Lord! You alone knows what's best for us.

My tears will flow but will one day dry,
My heart will love but will one day die,
On A day my body will be lowered,
Into the grave, peacefully dead. 

Spread the message, spread what I say,
Along the passage, tell what I see, 
A land of blessings, no more deaths, 
No more terrorists and no more Shabaabs. 

Copyright © hudhaifah siyad | Year Posted 2015

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

The cities of gold

A new species,
In the mist appears
Darkness disappears,
In his binocular spheres

Never seen before smiles
To conquer primitive fears
Overcoming basic instincts
To rule he was destined

The beauty of his offspring
Bright as a fresh ray of spring
An innovative, beautiful mind
Leaving the prehistoric behind

He ran like a Kenyan
He fought like a Spartan
And told stories like a historian
And healed gladiators like a physician

He is a galactic child
Searching for the cities of gold
For all his life he was told
Go wild before you get old

Copyright © Thabang Ngoma | Year Posted 2015

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

I'm Just A Brother

I am Willy, and I am a brother of all,
With Love for all and malice to none;
The high and low, who rise or fall.
I'm just a brother, and I am done.

Be a white, or were born black,
(And I am a native of that dark hue)
I believe we all can think and work,
With many a like and differences few. 

You are Muslim and I am Christian,
Between our beings stands no fence;
We together can live in peace and earn,
For I am a brother now, and hence and hence.

I am Kenyan born, I am Kenyan man,
And wish to tour abroad some day;
For I am a brother of all, and too a fan,
Borders across and oceans away.

North and South, East and west,
I am a brother of all, wheresoever under sun;
And the world is home my best,
A planet that stands as one.

So I will work with seekers of peace,
Who humanity's cause of dignity further;
And by rule bring the bad to justice,
Because I'm just a brother.

Like I am to you may you be so to me,
By common-sense we live, by no faiths silly,
Understand our being and yearn to be free,
For brothers we are; and again, I am Willy.

Copyright © Willy Munyoki | Year Posted 2012

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

For The Uninitiated Impostors

I feel a nauseating revulsion to see scraps of prose
Bundled together in a neatened pile in the name of poetry,
And prizes being awarded for such otiose verbiage
And praises being heaped for such boring coquetry.

Poetry, my dear uninitiated impostors,
Is the language of the mute solemn gods.
You ought to choose your nifty title well
And thus commence your verse against the odds.

Avoid Soyinka’s worn-out style of incompetent blank verse,
Instead, give it the rhyme scheme of the unbeatable Yeats;
The superior verse that one Tom Mboya has never read,
The taste that a Kenyan editor will haul over the rooftop sheets.

Line after line beg the company of some higher Muse
So that you may pen the will of the gods and not your own;
Alliterate here and there though you must not make it your aim,
Then lunge into deeper thought with a deity-like melancholy tone.

And never seek fame for your sacred poetic tasks.
Leave the young to sing your lyrics centuries upon your death,
And remember a great weaver of rhymes long deceased
And pray and wish you immortal blissful health. 

Copyright © Hannington Mumo | Year Posted 2015

Details | Kenyan Poem | |

My Three Kenyan Friends

My Three Kenyan Friends
I met them this weekend at a friend’s house in Indianapolis
The sweetest siblings you would ever want to meet
Blessed by the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ
In their smiles was the love of my Savior
Three wonderful smiles
Three wonderful hearts
Friendship established for evermore
My three Kenyan friends
We are now all brothers and sisters
All dining on the caviar of our King!

Gwendolen Rix

Copyright © Gwendolen Rix | Year Posted 2014

Details | Kenyan Poem | |



Bit and bit together become whole,
And coin and coin fills the treasure.
Right and wrong never agree;
And little and little satisfies the measure!
Careless mischief is a dangerous thing.
Kenyans do cheerfully sing!

Here is advice for Barack Hussein Obama,
Unbeatable true son of the soil.
Sure and unbending must be your strategy;
See clearly there no chances to spoil!
Earnest and apt must be your plans,
Indefatigable must be your  spirit:
Never lacking zeal, and dreaming deeds full of merit! 

Our prayers we do say day and night,
By our firesides were rant our supplications,
And plead that you take courage in this fight.
May yours be a full and overflowing cup,
And may the Kenyan flag be always up!

Copyright © Hannington Mumo | Year Posted 2012