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Steven Mwakatundu Poem
Our inception was a mystery
"A big bang theory" Some suggested
" A Super being" above the clouds" Some lamented
we watched the creatures debate over our existence
Born in a family of ten and raised from a distance
Watched over by our father during the day
while mum took over the night duties
Our Sisters's jaw dropping beauty invited the overzealous creatures
The genesis of their friendship seemed sweet but turned sour
Their insatiable hunger for exploration grew by the hour
Her troubled existence had only began
They exploited her hospitable nature and stripped off her beauty
The green gown that covered her nakedness, stripped in the name of civilization
Her waters that sparkled, darkened by the juice extracted for their automobile's
Fumes from their industrial machines aiming at her blue and white veils, destroying the fragrance of her ozone layer..
We watched with pain and in silence
We had no mode of mobility to render a helping hand
Father’s anger started growing by day as he watched with detest
For a number of days he gave warning shots
The creatures experienced his anger so hot
But the warning fell short of their egocentric ego's
"Lets just call it "global warming" and pretend we are doing something towards it" they connived
Defiling my sister did not quench their thirst of exploration
They sent two men with wits to visit my mother
Trying to find out the secrets to her shinning face
As soon as they landed, they pierced her body with flags of achievement
It now became a race of who will defile her the most
As days pass we wonder who will be the next victim
Rumours have it they are eyeing one of our sister
Her genetic makeup is almost similar to sister's
I am afraid, these tears will never dry
These fears will forever be high
Our helping hand will remain shy
For we can only watch, as the cycle continues
Copyright © Steven Mwakatundu | Year Posted 2024
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Steven Mwakatundu Poem
Pain that pains the pain that pains
Hate that conceives the hate, that we hate
Loneliness that engulfs the already lonely loneliness
Regrets upon regrets, regretting that we regret
Could be the Price we pay …
For playing the humble games of Kings and Queens, while denouncing our traits from the street
For wearing shinning armour electroplated in silver and gold, until rust reveals our true elements
For playing Romeo and Juliet, but not willing take the concoction of compromise
For playing "Brother and Sister" tags, yet the mind caresses the thoughts of making brothers and sisters
For denying the tongue the taste of words weaved in
and lurking through the cracks of our Wailing hearts
Could be the price we pay … .
For forcing a donkey to the river, and expect it to jump through the hoops of our fantasised fantasies.
For the care we give wholesomely till it sours into an obsession, something that scares them away
For banking our feelings In a vault fixed for the future, while we expect them to notice of our undying love
Could be the price we pay …
For being forthcoming and submissive, a sign of a free lamb meant for the altar
For being too trusting with our Secrets and Pixel's of our natural melanin, till it becomes food for the public eye
Maybe, could be the price we pay
For being humans.
Copyright © Steven Mwakatundu | Year Posted 2024
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Steven Mwakatundu Poem
The distinction is of no relevance
It is one and the same in my eyes.
Lime, Forest, Hunter and Mint Green ;
Sage, Seafoam, Olive and Pea Green;
Emerald, Jade, Chartreuse and fen Green;
Verdigris, Celadon and Spruce Green;
One truth remains: it is Green.
It represents nature and harmony,
A symbol of refreshness and renewal,
A beacon of eco-friendliness and sustainability.
It calms my nerves and breathes serenity,
It projects growth, abundance and prosperity.
It raises the bar of optimism and hope,
A full, balanced meal for my emotional stability.
Time and again, i find myself at the crossroads of uncertanity.
The room before me houses two colours,
Each holding the unknown.
I tremble at the thought of meeting the unexpected.
With the keys in my hands and my name stamped on its doors,
I stand still, like a tree in the absense of wind.
I contemplate the quantity and quality of the ingredients i mixed,
were they enough to warrant the colour that i seek?
Copyright © Steven Mwakatundu | Year Posted 2024
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Steven Mwakatundu Poem
A fine line separates hope and fear
Fear, not being the absence of hope
but hope taking a sabbatical when you need it near
Thoughts wander off every inch of my convolunted atmosphere
Wandering off in search of a grain of hope
hope that may spark an ounce of cheer
Calm and collective i may appear
Appearance, just a shade covering the conflictions in here
Standing on the land of adversity, longing for a hail Mary
light at the end of a tunnel, a beautiful light, a flare of a chandelier.
Copyright © Steven Mwakatundu | Year Posted 2024
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Steven Mwakatundu Poem
Under the canopy of the silver crescent light, right before the ripe of night, basking in the mushroom embrace of twinkling stars, listening to crickets’ melancholic lullabies, before temporary death beckoned to make acquaintances, we circled around the glowing reddish and yellow flames.
Our ears “ajar,” ready to tune to the frequency of riveting wisdom, transmitted through the crisp, serene evening airwaves.
The grey-haired oracle would sit on his favourite laid-back chair, ready to unscroll the scripts that would come to be the "cheat code" of life.
He was revered, an epitome of admiration and a central figure with instinctual prognosis. He would smell the rains three summers away, a "harbinger" that steered us clear of troubled waters.
"Let me tell you about the tale of pregnant men," he began to speak through the silence of our sheer attention.
"In a faraway land existed men, heavy-laden with self-gratification and pride. They fed on ego, spiced with self-righteousness. They dined and wined at the expense of those who erected the ladders for their ascension.
They spoke with twisted tongues, words that cut deeper than a surgical blade. Words that only those cut from the same cloth praised and fed as daily bread.
The ‘sword of command,’ given under the supposition that it would emancipate the chokehold on humanity and poverty, became a weapon that sliced the very strands of morality and voice of reason.
But no matter how skillful a bird is at kissing the clouds, landing is inevitable.
With time’s relentless march, they gathered at the village square with sugar-coated lips ready to "tea" their way up once more.
Bellies full of deceit from yesterday's promises. Wearing humbled faces, as a litmus test, to test the masses' dementia and ignorance. Expecting oranges from the lemon seeds the earth swallowed."
"If you were among the gathering, what would you have done?" he queried, soliciting our comprehension from our intrigued faces.
"Time is but cyclic in the arena of karma," he concluded, yawning his way to his chambers of dreams.
Copyright © Steven Mwakatundu | Year Posted 2025
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Steven Mwakatundu Poem
It could be my paranoia,
perhaps my curiosity,
Its intensity, leaving me with 1 of the 9 lives, yet i still yearn
Do i use the soft or hard brushes, in stroking the canvas of
scenarios that would make a picture of what you picture?
Is it with colour? a classic? Or that which is left hidden ?
I wish i could comprehend a fraction of what transpires,
for it feels like eternity, from one second to the next.
Copyright © Steven Mwakatundu | Year Posted 2024
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Steven Mwakatundu Poem
A few ticks after the break of dawn
The night fades and the day yawn
Birds chip the morning anthem, my attention is drawn
The sky painted in orange, yellow and red
"Fair well thee my bed"
Its time to reflect for what's ahead
A soft breeze brushes against thy skin,
Nostrils, treated to a fresh array of air
Eyes immersed in the glory of the morning flare
Sitting on this swing
swinging north and south
Contemplating the blueprint for the day
From the "fresh-dew thoughts", before the day turns grey
The sun is about to shine, its time to make Hay!
Copyright © Steven Mwakatundu | Year Posted 2024
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Steven Mwakatundu Poem
Something in her voice that had me tick
Curvilinear edges on her face
A smile that smiled
Lips that spoke charm
A face kindred to the moon
Her body screamed seduction
A goddess of attraction
Within proximity i couldn't function
She was perfectly perfect
His charm was the tipping point
Deep voice, fire in his eyes and a vocabulary marinated in "love"
words far reaching like a cupid's arrow to the core of my delicate heart
A definition that defined the marvel of creation
His intelligence was second to none
But our thoughts and imaginations
Fantasies and dreams
Could not manifest in the face of reality
We were but the opposite sides of the same coin
We fell in love with "an idea"
Copyright © Steven Mwakatundu | Year Posted 2024
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Steven Mwakatundu Poem
It eludes me too
My reluctance suprise me the same
I wish, only if i could
maybe this could be a story for the books.
Copyright © Steven Mwakatundu | Year Posted 2024
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Steven Mwakatundu Poem
"Forever" seemed like a long time
The taste buds had worn off the desire to eat from the same plate
My eyes feasted on other froral ceramic plates not of my cabinet
I ate from one plate to the next interchangeably
How fast the vows had forgoten the path to my heart
My "plate" just as beautiful, i wonder how fast my eyes had chosen open blindness
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Here i lay, breathing by neck
Dying two fold
acknowledging the glitter was only granular's of poison from the grim reaper
My plate is broken and so is my health
I only have myself to crucify
I natured it
Entertained it
Invited it in
Copyright © Steven Mwakatundu | Year Posted 2024
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