Colours in the Sound

Sharp the pain
A clutching of the heart
Betrayed by brother Cain
Death found him not alert.

The colours in the sound
Soft – whispered – loud
Spell cast – love bound
Shadows long – dark the cloud
Lost again, this longing that was found.

Let’s describe red
Scarlet, when she bled
Hounded, she fled
An early grave led
Residual passions, her bed.

The colours in the sound
Soft – whispered – loud
Spell cast – love bound
Shadows long – dark the cloud
Lost again, this longing that was found.

Sky, promising this blue
A bit shaded, saddens the flu
In silence, speaks what’s true
Plan they, the cold to stew.

The colours in the sound
Soft – whispered – loud
Spell cast – love bound
Shadows long – dark the cloud
Lost again, this longing that was found.

Mangoes dripping a sweet yellow
Slow afternoons, lovers mellow
Lips on the phone, a soft hello
Tis summer, harps the swallow.

The colours in the sound
Soft – whispered – loud
Spell cast – love bound
Shadows long – dark the cloud
Lost again, this longing that was found.

Puffy, these clouds are white
Shape-shifting, lends the day bright
Dragons and lions formed, the sleight
Light on her feet, she is an eight.

The colours in the sound
Soft – whispered – loud
Spell cast – love bound
Shadows long – dark the cloud
Lost again, this longing that was found.

Stout her endurance, mahogany
Rigid she is cast, they call it monogamy
How can it be so, love – a monopoly
Bored stiff, she has to escape – this monotony.

The colours in the sound
Soft – whispered – loud
Spell cast – love bound
Shadows long – dark the cloud
Lost again, this longing that was found.

Stern, this shade of black
Night falls, it’s now dark
In the café, some luck
Soulful the singer, a lark.

The colours in the sound
Soft – whispered – loud
Spell cast – love bound
Shadows long – dark the cloud
Lost again, this longing that was found.

Love neglected, she longs for flowers
Out of work, last cents spent on flour
Once soft, she now scolds him rough
Broke, a woman’s loving is tough.

The colours in the sound
Soft – whispered – loud
Spell cast – love bound
Shadows long – dark the cloud
Lost again, this longing that was found.

Yellow and lime, to rhyme with thyme
Wine and dine, there shall be a time
Practised, goads with her whine
Fast, he has to find a credit line.

The colours in the sound
Soft – whispered – loud
Spell cast – love bound
Shadows long – dark the cloud
Lost again, this longing that was found.

Comments

My-Once Molly (Praying for a Rainbow),

Dear Molly, I hope you are ok and are keeping safe in these floods. As for me, I am heartbroken. I am in pain. My mind, my body, my spirit aches. I am numb with grief. As is the nation of Kenya. The picture just won’t get out of our minds – the father, trudging stoically, his dead, muddy son slung over his shoulder. It’s a devastating image… the screams, elsewhere, as a boat capsizes, the swollen river swallows a lorry… Izrael has visited the land. Dear Molly, a while back, the nation faced drought. Then, images of dead livestock, emaciated men, women and children, parched, cracked earth, haunted our screens. Elsewhere where there was a glut in food production, the farmers cried for their fellow starving countrymen. They demanded for lorries to traverse the rutted roads and take the produce to their brethren… collectively, we prayed for rain. Dear Molly... will we ever catch a break as Kenya? The Covid-19 pandemic that paralysed lives and livelihoods in 2020 as we recovered from th...

My-Once Molly (thinking of Valentine),

My-Once Molly… the girl who broke my heart, the one who got away, the one who promised me the world and left me to survive alone – typical of our Kenyan politicians… I hope you are good. Now, as February – the month of love – lurks about, I find myself thinking of you. Thing is, my dear Molly, I have new neighbours. A young couple, very much in love like we once were. The young lady, her name is Val… maybe Valentine… I don’t know. This Val, a spirited girl with rich, deep, heaving laughter - almost like yours. Her smile… ah! You should see it. The shine of the morning sun distilling the dew upon cool meadows… I am totally in love with her. Alarmingly, she teases me much and I am getting ideas… Molly, dear, wherever you are, please pray for me… the temptation is too much. If you don’t, the frail creature that I am may fall. This, despite having numerous songs in my playlist to warn me. Invariably, Majengo – that infamous locale – does a dishonourable appearance in most of them… ‘Maj...

My Once-Molly (A Theft),

Hi Molly. How are you? The floods are here and I almost drowned – should have gone for swimming lessons as you often times suggested. Anyways, I now walk with a motorcycle tire’s tube and pump in my backpack. DIY lifesaver gear as instructed by Grade 3 CBC cohort. Dear Molly, as I informed you last time, I shifted. Partly, the floods, partly, change, partly, finances. This Creative Writing journey is taking a bit of time to yield fruits, but I hang on, consoled by the words of one Ernest Hemingway, whose ending was horrible: “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” Where I shifted to, is a downgrade. ‘Mabati’ rooms – plenty of stories, though as living is communal and one’s business is everyone’s business. Such as the recent theft – a woofer, charger, ‘meko’ gas, a bar of soap, and a bucket of maize flower - that’s how ‘flour’ is pronounced, FIY. Must have been pretty hungry, them thieves. How it unfolded. A bit of commotion early mor...

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