bed blazes in heat
bloodsuckers taste my red dews ~
life feeds upon life?
I ready my mark
Put my fingers just before the line
On your marks, the referee shouts
A bead of sweat drips down my face
Boiling the skin it touches
Leaving a moist trail behind it
Curls around my chin
Hanging in suspense
But it can't support its own weight
It falls
Falls in slow motion
It hits the track
Instantly evaporated against the track
The blank fires
My legs shoot forward
With each stride, my shoes dig into the rubber
I see the finish line
The lactate hits hard
My breathing is ragged and coarse
I can't give up now
My eyes go black
My brain shuts off
I wake up with rub burns on my face
But I finished first
Victory is mine
Planting a seed
Blooming courage indeed
Looking up to the sky
Not considering, time to die
Knowing heavens are there
Protection from the crows who scare
Reading books filled with studies
Asking, how much money?
Trusting powers that be
Truth will see
Sun shining bright
An illuminating sight
When break time arrives
Reason to sigh
Showing a path
Towards the bath
Sweat well spent
Cultivating investment
Heat saying goodbye
Autumn leaves fly
Seasoned to perfection
Ready for collection
Harvest pay received
Graciously, I believe
Joyful thanks
Leaving the bank
No longer fearful and blue
Cash in hand is cool
Barreling pork
Work
Done
Time for fun
Spending
Since holiday season is pending
Intimidation threats are gone
Since courageous honesty is the new dawn
Echoes of traditions deep
forged in sweat and blood
Sounds of cannons booming weep
o’er tattered fields of mud
Freedom’s sons claim sacred ground
where horses’ hooves cry numb
Ancient winds still bear the tune
plaintive shriek of fife and thrum
It was a Christmas Eve.
Wearing my casual winter outfit
I set out for my granny’s home,
a mile away from my dwelling.
The moon rising from the horizon
spread its soft glow all around.
Under my feet, on the snow-clad ground,
the silhouettes of the snow laden trees,
appeared to me as the spirits of the dead.
The dilapidated houses with icicles under their roofs,
loomed up to me like the ghosts with mouths open wide.
Silence everywhere, and not a soul nearby,
I felt that I was haunted by them at every step.
My heart pounded out of my chest
and my teeth chattered beyond my control.
This unusual jugalbandi made me unconscious.
When I awoke, I was in a hospital bed,
cold to the bone and wet through with the sweat.
(Blood, Sweat and Bruises)
In the heart of the arena, beneath the sparkling lights' blaze,
Two warriors clash, in a ballet of force and haze.
Bodies slamming canvas, sweat and adrenaline entwined,
Each grappler seeks to prove their mettle and bronze, leave the other far behind.
In the shadows of the locker room, secrets linger, dark and profound. Tales of triumph and tragedy, forever bound. Through blood and tears, these gladiators ascend, their legends carved in flesh and bruises, forever transcendent. *pulls back slightly, fixing you with an intense, smoldering gaze.
In the shadows of the locker room, secrets linger, dark and profound. Tales of triumph and tragedy, forever bound. Through blood and tears, these gladiators ascend, their legends carved in flesh, forever transcendent.
Under the shade of intense light
I sweat in the coldness of heat
and stand in the presence of those
who could not see me.
I wasn't guided nor kissed.
The blinding light could not show
even just a shadow of me to them.
I wish one of them could just
hold my hands and rub my tears,
or they could all see where I'm coming from—
if not at least where I'm going to.
They should at least have seen
how hard I have worked just to get their trust.
I needed their faith in me, but even
“thank you” was too much for them to give.
If only they could walk with me,
I would not be crying.
At least someone would see me
and say, “Thank you.
this is darkness looks like, a void
filled with blackness; everything's coiled
a scene, winking yet not annoyed
taking a step into a
grey gates towards world of the
things that never meant to be seen
across the night of an obscene
moonlight, revealing all the sin
once out of the spotlight, but
only if you focus at
black holes looming over above
the outer space containing love
for dead, providing a vast cove
holding what's meant to be gone
give graves for those once human
now an inanimate object
to those which goal's refuse reject
turned to a shooting star, erect
out of tall desperation
you're set out for a mission
perhaps remind the pain, through a
crater over your chest; a bay,
now fade, where you once used to play
along the sands of regret
you let it melt with your sweat
thinking writing of something sweet.
That man stirs before the sun, dashing hopefulness,
Hopefulness that his son will grow, not just mature,
Mature into a man, who lugs his name,
Name engraved in sweat, not pursuing eminence.
Eminence never suckled the ardor of his soreness,
Soreness from scuffles tussled in quietness and pain,
Pain he credited so his child treasures concord,
Concord cleared through hurricanes, never ephemeral.
Ephemeral is the joy, but enduring is love,
Love that drains through detriment and scabs,
Scabs that murmur, “I bequeathed all I ensured,”
Ensured bravery enough to silhouette the celebrities.
Poem by Mugisho N.
There’s beauty in imagining great things;
It lights our dark future with hope-filled dreams ~
Visions of peasants ordained to be kings,
And plebeians crowned as queens, so it seems.
It charts dream paths lit by elegant beams.
Imagination hears each scarecrow's groans;
It squeezes water from dry desert stones.
It carves deep oceans in hot desert sand,
Lifting us from known realms to worlds unknown,
Where minds may wander due to no command.
Imagination lends us its safe wings,
So we can soar toward futures we choose,
To fill our life with hopes and precious things;
Though striking gold is never a mere cruise,
Nor are the lily-livered crowned as kings.
Sweat would streak our face and our skin would bruise,
Our legs may throb and swell with insects' stings;
It's for our future that we pay the dues —
We'll patch our hurts with plasters, cloth, and slings,
On great hopes, our imagination clings.
It’s real hopes that imagination brings,
With peace of mind when reason reigns supreme,
With thoughts that glide without the need for wings—
Yet sometimes birth false hopes no truth redeems.
And dreams may fade like echoes in a stream.
When life leaves you lemons
deserved or not
some sunny summer's day
neither fret nor sweat
if citrus is all you've got
to show for your lot
to keep the blues at bay
be creative pull out all stops
keep calm stay cool
either squish or get off the pot
think of a drink
(old fruit)
and you're made in the shade
easy peasy lemon squeezy
simply put... make lemonade
Date written: 26th July, 2025
Contest: Three Options in I Poetry
Sponsor: Constance La France
The man who has no imagination has no wings.
— Muhammad Ali
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Imagination lends me its safe wings,
So I can soar toward futures I choose,
To fill my life with hopes and precious things;
Though striking gold is never a mere cruise,
Neither are lily-livered crowned as kings.
Sweat would streak my face and my skin would bruise,
My legs may throb and swell with insects' stings,
It's for my future that I pay the dues —
I'll patch my hurts with plasters and with slings,
On great hopes, my imagination clings.
The bold horizon burned and died
cold in my eyes as I turned aside
on the road to nowhere
taking it slow
making it easy
in no hurry to go
I'm taking my time
for I never felt the need
to heed the latest mad fad
or follow the current day's craze
yet I don't fret or sweat
the small stuff
but I did learn
soon enough
the tide will turn
and the seventh wave
tho' said and done
is not always
the largest one
Blood, sweat and tears
All in the name of eliminating my fears
Blood, sweat and tears
Just to find myself inside a Mercedes, getting an ego boost when I shift gears
Blood, sweat and tears
Creating a steel Armour in the form of riches
Ensuring the arrows of poverty don't pierce
It will be blood, sweat and tears till when?
My pains have outweighed my gains
What a heavy burden for my patience
They say blessings come as heavy rains
But it's been a dry season
As if an evil deity reigns
Hard to succeed, as if becoming the next king is forbidden like we living in a Herod type reign
But it's blood, sweat and tears till the gold appears
Destiny says I cannot endure my pain in vain
I know grace so I'll endure
On the days I fall short
Appreciation of the blessings I can count will be the cure
Fiendish
humid dreams,
sticky and uncomfortable.
Instant cold sweat awakens
soul.
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