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Olive Wambui Poem
In the land of the inherently interesting,
I sit above and watch the vastness of this divine story.
Where spirits live in moving clay,
and the clouds above pregnant with anticipation,
and the green below our feet sings the beauty of a jealous lover.
Where the head rules the heart,
and love is for the dead...
and the rush is now succumbing to a deluded happy ending.
In the land of the inherently interesting,
I sit above and watch the effortlessness that goes into destroying it all.
Copyright © Olive Wambui | Year Posted 2022
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Olive Wambui Poem
The Voice of the Woman
I speak with clarity of mind and heart: Cursed is the woman with a voice.
Silence is golden. Respect the man, keep quiet be seen. So I have been told all my life.
Later, everything changes. And those that said "keep silent" now ask "Why didn't you speak up, I was here."
In a woman's world, silence means death. Spiritual and physical. "Know thy place! How dare you use your voice where men of high standing, and women who agree seat!? "
Silence is the ocean of the unsaid, the unspeakable, the repressed, the erased, the unheard. It surrounds the scattered islands made up of those allowed to speak and of what can be said and who listens.
When we women offer our experience as our truth, as human truth, all the maps change. There are new mountains.
The new voices that are undersea volcanoes erupt in what was mistaken for open water, and new islands are born; it’s a furious business and a startling one. The world changes. Silence is what allows people to suffer without recourse, what allows hypocrisies and lies to grow and flourish, crimes to go unpunished.
Oh,cursed is the woman with a voice! Because in her silence, generations have no light. Speak young girl,speak! Speak the wisdom that lies in the bosom of who's freshness of mind is still with the birth cord from the maker.
When you speak,evil despairs. When you speak, discomfort arises and the earth shifts.And what was not to be, erupts with magma of new life. Tell us your story! Live and let live.
Speak! And let her speak!
Her voice is change!
©Olive The Geek
Oct 2022
Copyright © Olive Wambui | Year Posted 2022
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Olive Wambui Poem
Remind me again my name,
I slip into a waking coma,
Now and then.
Now and then.
Now.
Lost in rose-coloured petals
Of what feel like memories.
Who I am?
There are time I become you.
I know it's you.
Time and again.
Time and again.
Time.
It ticks and your skin's sticks on my manners
I am certainly no fool.
No sir.
Yet,it sticks.
Creepy glue.
A faceless writer
A spineless Messiah
A choreographed nightmare
A reactant whistle blower
A blizzard in a curtain.
A tarot card misplaced.
The greatness of a Capricorn
Seduction of a narcissistic Virgo,
Allure of a Taurean rage,
the pungency of misty earth.
Or just Monday blues
With sexual tension.
I am confused.
Remind me again my name.
E'ry time I say it,
I hear you.
Copyright © Olive Wambui | Year Posted 2023
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Olive Wambui Poem
I give you your first flower
Before all your lovers
send them by the hour.
Receive my flower.
Soft and brittle
But how mighty its power!
Let it move in you
when times and sweet, and when sour.
I picked it from my lover.
So here's your first flower.
Copyright © Olive Wambui | Year Posted 2023
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