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Ugandan Poem |
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She is a Ugandan girl
The odds are stacked against her
That is her first hurdle
She is also a Christian girl
That is her second hurdle
Clearly, hooking up is bad
She goes ahead
She braves the storm
She hits the bar
Try as she may
The good ones won’t play
Clearly, hooking up is hard
She lays out her cards
Rack, arse and eyes
She works it, oh does she work it
Her trap is set; at last a rat is caught
Off to bed with a barely a name known
Clearly, hooking up is mad
Come the morning
Exposed in the harsh light of day
Sneaking out with shoes in hand
Breath laced with the stale smell of booze
Shoulders low under the weight of regret
Clearly, hooking up is sad.
Copyright © Kyam Nalwanga | Year Posted 2013
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Ugandan Poem |
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As you come to Uganda visit Entebe zoo
Come to the lion cage
Don't stare or watch just look in the lions eyes
It will tell you all the stories of Kampala
You see the red eyes of Besigye
With the zeal to break the cage
And lead Uganda
But the pain of tear gas is unbearable
Look at this lion again
Laying down as if it has been tamed
Then you will see a Lukwago
Who wants to do the mayor job
But all the power is in Musisi
Come closer, you will the lion roar
To show its potential but all in vain
Like Nsereko moving a motion In Parliament
But scared by his mother party
Don't stop look closest
You will see this is not a lion
Its a lioness, Its kadaga
Chairing Parliament
On tension to expel rebel MPs
Look again you will see it all
The begging hands of street kids for rescue
The serious police force
The sweat of unemployed graduates
The noise of boda boda riders
And the potholes in the city
This lion at Entebe zoo
Knows how much the staff labors to fed it
It know how much they spend on it
Like the way Ugandans know
How much the government has given to them
But as you look at it
It tries to hide its jungle character
Because thats how it earns money to feed it
It knows the staff gets from what belongs to it
Like the way corrupt officials
Pledge on our funerals
Burying our own who died of disease
That would have been cured by the same money
They played lots
Now run away from that cage
Before that lion comes with all its craws
Begging for its freedom
Like Ugandans
On walk to work
Copyright © Rodgers Roger Muhereza | Year Posted 2013
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Ugandan Poem |
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******Hello everybody, I hope you are doing well. I haven’t wrote a poem in a long time it sees. So I am glad to write a poem for two women named JK and Magi. JK and Magi, two Ugandan women who were tortured, jailed and "correctively raped," because they were lesbians. Corrective rape is a horrific practice in which it is believed that rape can "cure" a woman of their homosexuality, leading them to marry men and have children. Because being openly gay in Ugandan society is so dangerous, these women fled the country, leaving their children behind.
You are strong like a tornado tearing down a town.
They wanted to make you weak, but by staying yourselves,
YOU ARE THE ONES WHO HAVE MADE THEM WEAK.
They are still being afraid and weakened by the power of fakeness when they continue to not be their true selves.
Yes you fled, but fled into the hearts of others only to share your love and strength to people who have been weakened.
Continue to light up the sky and the hearts of others.
For you have paved an amazing path for your children by just being, You.
Copyright © Christina Wiliams | Year Posted 2013
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Ugandan Poem |
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( Since 1987, a group of Ugandan military rebels, called the Lords Resistance army has
been kidnapping, raping and torturing Ugandan children.At Night, these children are forced
to leave their villages and walk for miles to safe cages, in hopes that they won't be take
by the LRA...They have been dubbed The Night Walkers.This is my response to them...)
Everything I see leaves a mark on my soul
And it is with this bleeding heart that I suffer with you
I am there when the nights are long and weary
Watching the devils pour out of the darkness
To take you sons and rape your daughters
I am there to wait for the smoke to clear long enough to survey the wreckage
The Horrors not meant to burden the human soul
And I am there to feel the fires
To count in silent despair
To cover the bodies
Your husbands
Your brothers
The tiny hands of a wasted nation
Knowing that there are enough tears within us all to soak the cracked earth upon which you
stand, to wash away the dirt and ages from a million hardened faces and fill the hollow
pits of swollen stomachs
But you are the forgotten ones
Alone in your grief
And for that I am sorry
So instead I lay my heart next to yours and watch as the army of faceless monsters march
your babies into darkness
Forced to kill their fathers and brothers
Raping the bodies of their sisters and mothers
Waiting in bated frustration as the dead hand of abhorration is laid across the forheads
of your young
And even now I stand beside you
Shaking my fist at an unrelenting sky
Screaming into the deaf ears of a world devoid of humanity
Crying away your forgotten sorrows
It is with this bleeding heart that I call out but there is no answer
Copyright © Jessica Melancon | Year Posted 2006
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