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Regina Asinde Poem
Sharp piercing pains
rendered me breathless
I double over,
crouching low like a panther.
Fire, searing fiery fire
leaped at my sides,
licking my backside.
I groan and writhe,
growl and curse!
only the ticking clock
dares to surpass my loud moans.
Sweat trickles down my backside,
flowing down, forming rivulets as
they meet and scamper downwards.
Another tormenting wrench!
This time a wounded lion’s roar echoes.
And so it went on—
Doctors and nurses
mumbled words meaningless
in the face of my helplessness!
I was gripped in the throes of labour pains;
my body betraying me
as it struggled to give life to another.
Seconds, minutes, hours ticked away.
and finally at the eleventh hour,
my energy spent,
my body bushed,
she burst through--
piercing the birthroom with a keening protest!
I lay down my head,
too exhausted to even offer her
a proper welcome
but a weary smile.
Copyright © Regina Asinde | Year Posted 2012
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Regina Asinde Poem
Traitor
She smiles,
her smile so bright
blinding me in its glare
flaring out to cover
her hands that crawl up my throat
and throttle me to silence.
Copyright © Regina Asinde | Year Posted 2012
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Regina Asinde Poem
MY BEAUTY
Piece by piece
I will remove them
I will undo them now.
I will undress now
Like the stripper you wish me to be
I will throw them at you
Daring you to grab them
Measuring how vast your desire is
Seeing your indecision on whether
To hold the pieces
Or to touch my nakedness.
I will gently remove my starched headpiece
That sits majestically on my head
And finger comb my shaggy shrubby hair
Knotted lifeless on my head.
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your loving eyes?
I will with particular care unclasp my gold earrings
That have been winking all night at you
And leave dark scarred earlobes
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your yearning eyes?
I will unadorn my neck
Tugging away the heavy priceless pearls
That have hung around my neck
And leave my almost invisible neck
Bare to your glance
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your worshipping eyes?
I will with precision and concision unclasp my floral printed blouse
That has fitted me to perfection all evening
To reveal my wrinkled saggy breasts
That have obeyed the law of gravity
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your coveting eyes?
I will slowly push my pencil skirt
That has hugged my curves adoringly
I will sway with it as it travels down
Revealing flabby cellulite infected folds of flesh
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For why should I hide
My beauty from your worshipping eyes?
I will undress now
Piece by piece
For my beauty
Is what really glazes your eyes
Not so?
Copyright © Regina Asinde | Year Posted 2012
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Regina Asinde Poem
I wondered why
you loved her so
till I saw her smile.
Copyright © Regina Asinde | Year Posted 2012
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Regina Asinde Poem
Ours is a nation of “No Change!”
Before, we said it in the foreign language
of masters across the seas and oceans
“No change!” we hollered.
But fortunate for us indeed
that we have the only man
with a vision heading our nation;
he smoothly translated it for us
into a language we better understand
“Pakalast!” we now scream.
“No change!”
“Pakalast!”
How true that is!
From time immemorial,
we have lived so;
ancestral chiefs and kings,
colonial masters and presidents of the Republic,
we have bowed in awe to all,
reliving and reliving
the atrocious slogan,
“No change!”
“No change!”
“Pakalast!”
We are bound by the vicious cycle of
a nation without rule of law,
chained to the shackles of autocratic rulers
who claim to be champions of change.
“Pakalast!”
“No change!”
“Pakalast!”
We are mired deep in the ditch of abject poverty,
teeming with unwaged youths,
murdered by state organs
sapped of all human consciousness,
weighed down like a drowning man
by scandals upon scandals of corruption
with great farces of elections
“Pakalast!”
“No change!”
“Pakalast!”
We are a nation of no change,
a nation of no hope,
our people too weary to do anything
but to squeal the slogan
in voices callused by despondency
“No change!”
“Pakalast!”
Copyright © Regina Asinde | Year Posted 2012
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Regina Asinde Poem
FRAGRANCE
It’s the fragrance, mother;
the intoxicating crispy fragrance
of colored newly mint coinage.
Sometimes the shimmering glitter
of gold or silver.
It matters not mother
what figures are imprinted on,
just the fragrance!
The fragrance that drives me
to plunder my core,
to pillage my country to nothing,
squandering it to desolation.
The fragrance that possesses me
to bare my nakedness to them,
to vend my soul’s worth,
to trade my country’s worth!
The fragrance that devours me
and sparks hunger pangs,
coercing me to crave and covet theirs
staining my hands with blood !
It’s the fragrance mother;
the musky musty odor
of old and used notes,
sometimes the dull hue of coinage
that quenches my thirst and ardor!
It matters not mother
what figures are imprinted on
Just the fragrance mother!
Just the fragrance.
Copyright © Regina Asinde | Year Posted 2012
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Regina Asinde Poem
Cold like the corpse in the morgue,
empty like the deserted snail shell,
hollow like the long drum.
My soul is nothing but a shell.
The sun shines bright and fiery
Its heat relentlessly scorching all
Yet my soul freezes
Frozen like the mountain glacier
Feeling no heat nor warmth
Copyright © Regina Asinde | Year Posted 2012
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Regina Asinde Poem
I have seen them
strutting like cockerels on podiums
sweating like pigs in their ill-fitting suits
words bubbling out of their snake forked tongues
-democracy!- development!- unity!
I have seen them
lock themselves up in their posh grave tomblike cars,
is it to avoid the dust of the potholed roads
or the sight of poverty ridden comrades
who crawl along the streets like sprayed bedbugs
I have seen them
prancing along the corridors of power
thirsty for more, more and more
always more while their comrades get less
-Salaries – Allowances—Terms
I have seen them
preach peace but sow strife
scream democracy while muffling fundamental rights
promise development while worshiping corruption
I have seen them
torch the nation with careless words
fanning the flames of hatred amongst comrades
destroying – always destroying!
I have seen them
stamped like buffalo herds
on the foundation of the nation
till it stands on shattered and battered grounds
constitution amendments – always amending!
I have seen them
do all these and more – always more
but like a man condemned
I stand on the sidelines
watching—only watching!
Copyright © Regina Asinde | Year Posted 2012
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Regina Asinde Poem
Sounds of music
are here, there, everywhere!
in this, in that, in that!
They give rhythm to everything around us;
be it the crack of dawn,
fiery sunny days,
or mellow twilights.
I hear the sounds of music
when the cock crows faithfully signaling dawn;
Cocko-ree-oo-cooo mmmm!
and when the Muslim devotees
are called to prayer by the mwazin;
Allaaaah….Akubar!
Sounds of music confer zeal to my hands
as I kneel at the grinding stone,
grinding millet seeds and dried cassava pieces.
As the stones kiss each other they sing out to me;
Kigwak-kigwak-kigwak Itendo kwon ga’ngo?
Atendo kwon girigo ma nyoro baba onyewo!
Sounds of music that silence my rumbling belly
as I cook magira at noontime;
while the flames lick the blackened ayiga bottom,
she sings out in giddiness;
Alu-lu-lu chal ayidha mugoy pyere umaido!
Alu-lu-lu chal ayidha mugoy pyere umaido!
Sounds of music swing me to action
when I hear the milk cow mooing
in tune to the herdsman’s calming whistles;
and before adhadha orders me
I rush gaily for the milk stool
turning and twirling in tune
to the whistles of the milkman and the mooos.
Ah, the enticing sounds of music
that thrill us around the night fire
as adhadha regales us with folktales;
awili nyoro ‘wili nyoro fodi ‘kitwi dhudho?
a mama, mama, dhudho nyaka woc.
Mama dikini ‘kidwok nwangan
Mama ogwang nyoro ‘luwo kodan
Mama dikini ‘kidwok nwangan
Mama ogwang nyoro ‘luwo kodan.
Copyright © Regina Asinde | Year Posted 2012
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Regina Asinde Poem
Once I knew to laugh
with the abandonment of youth;
unmindful of shocked gasps and disapproving glares.
Joy and merriment the wings underneath my laughter.
For the sublime buoyancy laughter gave my soul, I laughed.
My laughter rivaled the mocking bird and the nightingales’ songs,
the preening peacock and the soulful dove!
I laughed only as laughter was made to be laughed.
Once I knew to cry
with the soulfulness of babies;
unbothered by the harassed looks of parents and bystanders
Pain and sorrow the momentum upon which my cries were bore.
For the cleansing balm crying did to my soul, I cried.
My cries rivaled the African wailing mourners and dirges,
the screeching prison sirens and booming thunder!
I cried only as crying was made to be cried.
Once I knew to trust
with the faith of a newborn baby;
regardless of the worth of the belief.
Devotion and commitment shining beacons of my trust.
For the confidence and steadfastness of beliefs, I trusted.
My trust rivaled the faith of the Christian prophets ,
the unshakable trust of Christ in God and His disciples!
I trusted only as trust was made to be trusted.
Once I knew to love
with the passion of God;
blind to the failings of my love.
Adoration and dedication the wheels that pushed my love.
For the enthusiasm and commitment of passion, I loved.
My love rivaled love as portrayed in Song of Solomon,
love that made God send His only Son to Death!
I loved only as love was made to be loved.
Copyright © Regina Asinde | Year Posted 2012
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