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Best Poems Written by Jack Nganga

Below are the all-time best Jack Nganga poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Jack Nganga Poem

Misery Begins At Forty

I was a man, a cold blooded drunk, as they come.
I lived my whole life in a little house on my dad’s farm.
A broke hustler with a defunct bank account,
My career's future was always in doubt.
I married late, at the start of my forties.
It was not for love, I just wanted society to notice.
I did it to save myself from the embarrassment,
So she was not exactly for me heaven sent.
If I thought I was unhappy before, I was miserable now.
I my search for stability I had eloped  with a cow.
I had to drink more, to feel like a man again.
Had to play deaf and mute, not to go insane.
As the years passed, the cow bore me a calf
By now I was weak and my income had reduced to half
The bottle was killing me, but it was Still my only friend.
To hold my hand  and kiss me, everyday till the end.
The bottle was all i had, to wash away my sorrow
I had to have it, whether i should beg, steal or borrow
The meaning of life had now escaped my grasp.
All I did was sit, drink and watch time elapse.
Misery matured to sickness and still the years went by.
I shed no tears but within me there was a silent cry.
That of an old man whose whole life had been a lie
Pleasure is only found in the sweet wine a youngster sips.
For death hangs around the bed, every time an old man sleeps.
No amount of slumber nor sweet dreams can sooth,
When the heavy hand of time strikes away youth.
The dagger of illness and age was soon on my throat
I who called my wife "cow" was almost a slaughtered goat.
The reflection of my old face was unbearable on the mirror.
I looked haggard and horrible, i looked like a killer.
The cow and the calf  left me to seek better pasture.
I was now all alone, expect for the bottle and my pastor
He visited often to preach me the holy word.
He warned me of hell, i assured him, that i have already had
He gave up, went his way as death came mine.
No regret, no redemption and no cloud nine
There was no glitter, there was no glory
I was bitter, and that was the end of my story.

Details | Jack Nganga Poem

Tell Me Why

Tell me why,  
I wake up lonely every morning
Why my day ends up being boring
Why my dreams are always stalling 
Why I can’t respond to my calling
Tell me why, do not lie

Tell me why, 
I have a bed but I can’t sleep
I work to live but meals I skip
I have no laughs and I always weep
I have a heart, but love I can’t keep
Tell me why, don’t be shy

Tell me why,
I always struggle to make ends meet
Why I have to bend backwards just to eat
Why my heart is always skipping a beat
Why I am a faceless person in the street
Tell me why, don’t be sly

Tell me why, 
The hearts of some men are  cold
Why the cold men possess all the gold
Keeping it with them till its full of mold
While children die of lack before they are old
Tell me why, before i cry

Tell me why,
The world should be as it is
No justice and no lasting peace
Just bills to pay and other fees
Why the suffering seems not to cease
Tell  why, before I say goodbye

Tell me why,
The here and now should have no laughter
Why the pastor is always talking of the here-after
Where some will dwell blissfully with the master
While others will face hell’s ultimate disaster
Tell me why, before I die

Details | Jack Nganga Poem

The Suicide Note

To whom it may concern
Don’t be shocked what you are about to learn
In any case, this is a suicide note
The last thing on this earth I wrote
Just listen, I don’t need you to reply
As I briefly narrate, why I had to die
Life was hard, what else can I say
I never had, not one happy day
It was my birthday last month but one
At thirty five, with this life I am done
What’s so special about breathing?
What’s the big deal about your heart beating?
Why should it beat if it can’t beat your troubles?
Why keep breathing the dust as your world crumbles?
It is not easy being alive, and its more difficult dying
But whatever more life is offering, I am not buying
Like most, I dint find love and was escaped by wealth 
So i got depressed, and with that came my poor health
Enough millionaires have passed me by in flashy cars
Enough women have engraved my heart with deep scars
Knowing i will never be a rich man no a lover
Under the blanket of merciful death I take cover
Death can’t be so bad; it’s just being permanently sedated
Detaching all your feelings, from a world full of hatred
The government took from me tax, and the landlord his rent
Toiling under tyranny was how my youth was spent
The church came rebuking my sins and offering me hope
But i couldn't hold on to the hope, so now i hold the rope
Make no mistake; I have nothing against the Lord
It’s just that the cost of living is higher than I can afford
If living is an daily event, i am taking a rain-check
Instead staying home to fit a rope around my neck
I would rather turn into a corpse and be still in death
Than be a loitering tramp in the street with breath
I know so little about living, and about dying even less
But so be it if losing my life will be my last expense
I hope father and mother find it in their hearts to forgive me
If I could rewind back time, I would tell them not to conceive me
But I want to thank them for they tried to give me the best
It’s just unfortunate my wings broke as soon as I left their nest
I have been falling down ever since and am about to hit the ground
I have always been a loner and this is a sure way to avoid the crowd
Whoever discovers this note can have the little possessions I had
The only thing to be found of interest is my broken ipad
Please if it’s not too much to ask, don’t bother with the coffin
I hate the idea of people surrounding my dead body sobbing
Put me on one of those fire chambers, let me burn to smoke
I want no remembrance of me, for my life was a joke

Details | Jack Nganga Poem

Unpublished Anonymous

I have stories in my heart I want to tell 
Some of people in paradise and others in hell
I know all the characters in my stories well
Some perish, while some are saved by the bell
The characters are just you and me in print
Described perfectly by thousands of words on ink
They maybe imagined, made up names and identities
But they are just like us, our situations and realities
Like God running the world and carrying out his plans
I forge words and create stories with twists and turns
Where paradise gets lost and hell breaks loose
Where no one can escape the blues
I am an artist; words are my paint as I sit and sketch
The reflection of humanity’s maddening stench
Brightly captured line after line on A4 paper canvas
Like a conductor I swing my fingers and make the alphabet dance
Heartbreaks all over and death in the end
In imagination as in reality, its hard to find a friend
Every man for himself and every woman abused
Even if you are Oprah or the queen, you still get used
Words are fun to merge, into sentences to tell tales
Compressing into pages, explaining why happiness fails
Dreams shattered in a tunnel, like the princess of Wales
People spreading viruses in beds and electronic mails
Like a chef I mix words as if they are ingredients
Cooking up manuscripts that have no recipients
I compose the truth in exaggerated prose
Enough to steal Shakespeare's glory, from right under his nose
My characters may not be close to fame just yet 
But they have more grit, than Romeo and Juliet
More complex than Shakespeare's Macbeth 
Best laid plans, matters of life and death
An unedited anthology of human tragedies 
An underground bible of life’s vanities 
With chapters and passages for my eyes only
Hopefully to one day inspire and comfort the lonely
When that day comes maybe I will be famous
But for now, I am unpublished anonymous

Details | Jack Nganga Poem

The Midwife

Babies crying in the maternity ward
Women; some calling, some thanking God
The only place, where pain meets joy
When the midwife says, it’s a girl, or it’s a boy

The midwife has the most important of jobs
There to usher and give care, when the baby pops
Persevering the cries of women in distress
Delivering babies, amid the emotional bloody mess

Life is precious, from the day it begins
A new born is a miracle, pure joy it brings
The midwife ensures the mother stays proud
By helping the baby survive, its first day in the world

The midwife knows well, the agony of birth
To bring a baby on earth, is never a smooth path
The midwife must have the best of skills
The midwife knows, a slight mistake kills

Babies don’t always come at the best of hours
The midwife works round the clock, with no allowance
Laboring endlessly for women in labor
Getting hands dirty, with no one returning the favor

The midwife puts smiles on mothers, and cleans the blood
The midwife's best reward is to see a mother glad
The midwife does it all, out of true love
The kind of love that always wants to serve

The midwife smiles when a newborn cries
And cries with the mother for the one that dies
The midwife is a mediator between life and death
The midwife is to thank, for the baby’s first breadth

Details | Jack Nganga Poem

The Soulmate

Everyone they say, has a soulmate in a way
Those lucky have met, or will meet theirs some day
The rest might really never know, what true love is
Love knocks on their door, not to enter but to tease

The soulmate is an angel, in form of a person
One with whom you can share, the same kind of passion
Men have conquered the world, only to find it not enough
What they were really looking for, was someone to love

God made man, then a woman from his lib
That’s why men feel for women, a love so deep
But men took love for granted, in favor of their greed
They betrayed their hearts, and the love marching ceased 

Mankind survived centuries, through plagues sleeping on floors
The soulmate hardly existed, throughout famines and wars
Men bled for their kings, thousands dying of  broken hearts
Without their soulmate present, they died impoverished like rats

By the time peace and prosperity, found mankind again
Men were faced with, a new kind of reality and pain
Just when they could afford, to flirt and share some laughs
The availability of the soulmate, depended on economic graphs

So that men could only marry, women they could afford
The soulmate was again betrayed, and love again was flawed
Still there were  those very brave, who dared to still believe
They must meet their soulmate, and wipe away their grief

The soulmate knows you better, than yourself and beyond
The soulmate and you, are two peas in a pond
Without the soul mate, you are a face lost in the crowd
But you stand out from the rest, when your soulmate is around

The soulmate is worth, more than riches and gold
You can’t place value on someone, with whom to laugh till your old
Sadly not everyone of us, will find his or hers
More than riches and gold, the soulmate is scarce.

Details | Jack Nganga Poem

The Secret To Money and Power

You need it, u want it, just to know how it feels
You’re tired of your hands shaking every time you handle the bills
You always have just enough to get by, but not past
You’re tired of wondering how long your credit will last

The secret to money and power:
Wasting not your mind on poverty another hour

The secret comes to the one who is most proud
Of whatever he or she affords to have around
If a broom is all you have, just smile and grab it
Sweep the floor clean, and you may find a coin to eat

The secret to money and power:
Living in a shack, but imagining it is a tower

The only thing to fear is fear, someone once said
Look at everything as if, it has all been paid
Where there is a will there is a way, all debts will clear
If every minute all the while, you choose to be of cheer

The secret to money and power:
Dropping your worries and picking up a pretty flower

You don’t need to be a billionaire, or be the pope
But you can be anything you want, if you nurture that little hope
Yes, that little hope, that comes and goes
Let it stay and never go, and watch yourself become a boss

The secret to money and power:
Singing a happy song while in the shower

Peasants have often become landlords, and vice versa
Lepers have survived plagues while champions die of cancer
For playing along or against this little secret
There is a reward to reap, or some empty regret

The secret to money and power:
Removing what makes your thoughts sour

Details | Jack Nganga Poem

Time Is of the Nonsense

Seconds, minutes, hours and days
Weeks, months, years and decades
Centuries, millenniums and forgotten ages 
The book of time is filled with endless pages

We can trace time, from the time before time began
All the time in the world has passed, but what have we to learn
Men and kings before us, have lived in this very world
We walk their very steps, soon to join them in the ground

Life is brief with no consolation or relief 
Time will not stop for men to deal with their grief
Time speeds furiously, knocking everything to the past
Buildings are brought down in a blast, as men turn to dust

Time is but a vast and invincible prison
Holding its captives till death for no reason
Time is boring, mindless and unfair
It is out of our control no matter how much we care

From the day of creation, and the very first sunrise
Men have wrestled with time, and paid a high price
Suffering only to live and living only to suffer
Life is bleak, tragic and there is no time buffer

Time makes no sense, even if it be of value
To live your whole life tense,and next is your burial
To set your whole life by the calendar and the diary
To be betrayed by time,all those days you woke up early

Time is a treasure that has no pleasure
Working days are much more than days of leisure 
By the time you have time to enjoy your hard earned dime
You are sick all the time and your past your prime

Times change, but time changes not its behavior
Aging and erasing men, as they seek mercy from their savior
To resurrect in a world where the day does not end
To live in a world where time is dead

Details | Jack Nganga Poem

The Kind of Wife You Marry When You Have No Money

When you don’t have money, there is the kind of wife you marry
You marry her for she is marriageable in a hurry
That way, you save yourself time and money
And cross your fingers that life with her will be sunny

She does not stand out; she may not be so pretty
She is not so educated, and neither is she that witty
But since you are not rich, you are unqualified to judge
Just kiss her every night, even if you don’t feel the urge

She may not be the one in your dreams, the one you imagined
But she is right there with you, while the other one is in the wind
You will always look at and desire other women, for men are hunters
But she cooks, cleans and sleeps besides you, and that’s all that matters

You don’t love her or hate her, you just don’t know how you feel about her
You want to spend as little time with her and the rest of the time at the bar
But she won’t be the ideal wife no matter how much you drink
You are searching for happiness, but you know she is not the link

If you had been rich, you would have married someone else instead
But she is the one here now, and she is still a woman God made
The other one was looking for a man who had already made it
But this one kind of likes you even if you have no credit

With time, the little love you had for her seems to grow
While the gold digger has been digging and is now down low
The man who had made it has no more gold, so the gold digger must go
While the wife you married turns to gold and now you know

When you don’t have money, be glad for the kind of wife you marry
Don’t marry her just because she is marriageable in a hurry
Marry her for she is giving you her time and time is money
The heart is hidden gold; it takes time to polish it to make life sunny

Details | Jack Nganga Poem

For Jack So Loved the Whisky

For Jack so loved the whisky
That he spent all his hard earned money
Buzzing like a bee, in a hive full of honey
Painting the town red, every club, pub and bar
Mingling among strangers, feeling like a star

For Jack so loved the whisky
That he became well known throughout the land
For stocking his house with every available brand
Inviting friends over for a drinking festival
Partying like the devil, being anything but civil

For Jack so loved the whisky
That when the wife asked him to choose between her and the drink
He gave her an answer faster than she could blink
He threw away the only woman that loved him
Laughing as she was leaving, filling his glass to the brim

For Jack so loved the whisky
That he made it his daily morning beverage
Whisky was his script, and the world was his stage
The whisky made him a great actor; an undiscovered star
He drunk and gave performances worth of an Oscar

For Jack so loved the whisky
That he applied for a job in a whisky company
They hired him because he was witty and funny
The job came with a free lifetime whisky supply
So he vowed he would drink to the day he shall die

For Jack so loved the whisky
That he drove under the influence
Drove a Beetle but thought it was a Mercedes Benz
He had loud music playing from the bass
Driving in circles till he ran out of gas

For Jack so loved the whisky
That he started his own bar selling whisky only
Among other whisky lovers he never felt lonely
To the poor, he never had any food to spare
But to the thirsty, he always had plenty of whisky to share

For Jack so loved the whisky
That he went and bought his own distiller
So that he could truly be a whisky dealer
The government never gave him the license 
So he drank all his whisky to cover the expense 

For Jack so loved the whisky
That when the doctor gave him the bad news
He started diluting his whisky with juice
But it was too late; the doctor said he had liver cirrhosis 
The juice was not going to reverse the diagnosis

For Jack so loved the whisky
That on his deathbed wired to a drip
He still requested for one more sip
After he drank he said he was ready for his last trip
A few days later they buried him six feet deep

For Jack so loved the whisky
That they put in his coffin his favorite brand
Then the preacher made the mourners understand
That God gave each person a different kind of passion
May he allow Jack some whisky, on his heavenly mansion

For Jack so loved the whisky