Skip to main content

Age, Dreams, Love, Death

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETIbcEdyVfk


The sweet child, golden her smile
Death of innocence, led to her being
Love was had, made and shaped – furiously
Age was come, the world and the home – to enrich.

The sweet child, golden her smile
Cuddly and warm is she, ‘cept when called to dine
She would rather play, not away her dolls – file
Tantrums she is, tantrums she does, this sweet child of mine.

Age is catching up
Dreams are drying up
Love withers away
Death rides on the highway.

Dreams, the essence of all that is
A business to start, a sweet one to kiss
If killed, sharp is the cobra’s hiss
The daring shoot the star, can’t – the moon – miss.

The infant wonders, clear eyes wanders
Age trickles, drips and drops to the sea
There is still no dreaming of what could be
Love, Death – each Being flounders.

Age is catching up
Dreams are drying up
Love withers away
Death rides on the highway.

Love, some claim He and She - The First
Words, deeds, faith, trust – on Them sticks fast
The universe - all Beauty, some Beast - on Their image cast
Rhythm - floating downhill; hands, eyes, lips locked – Love’s dust.

The teen, writes rebellion to the Nation
Zeitgeist – flowers, pot – shaky, firm, the foundation
Before and before, after and after – constant, the fashion
There is song, there is dance, a hint of blues – three is so much more.

Age is catching up
Dreams are drying up
Love withers away
Death rides on the highway.

Age – many the names – Father Sun, Mother Moon
Time is, time was, time will be – easy the tune
Kingdoms and empires, the everyday – all crumble away
Bitter, sad, the delusional sweet – there is always the bye.

Father forgets the song in the day – many his responsibilities
Mother forgets the dance in the night – used up, all her faculties
Dreams dry up, love withers away – entropy – when disused, such abilities
Age catches up, death rides the highway – hospital, morgue – twin facilities.

Age is catching up
Dreams are drying up
Love withers away
Death rides on the highway.

Death is first and last – present every which way
Dreams taste death, love too, age - a caustic reminder
Death creeps, crawls, swims, sleeps – the net cast for the fly
Our stories we tell, of Overcome, yet uncollected – fees for The Finder.

A jolly fellow, Grandpa, we remember his many loves
A fair one, Grandma, in her many children, still she lives
Sometimes, they die young – so, we sing of what could have been
Greedy is the earth – she swallows all – the Saint and those bound in Sin.

Age is catching up
Dreams are drying up
Love withers away
Death rides on the highway.

 

 
Buy my anthology at: https://nuriakenya.com/product/a-funeral-dress-for-nyasuguta-by-mark-mwangi/

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

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...
Post a Comment
Read more

Lessons from Burundi: Comedy Season

Where I come from, we have an influx of foreigners. Already, we have an area by the name Congo, named so because it had an influx of Bakongo refugees, fleeing the war in their country… Congo, Zaire and back to DRC… The Democratic Republic of Congo. Very soon, we might have areas such as Sudan (South), Burundi, Rwanda, etc., etc. Fun fact, Dynamiq, He of ‘Remember them Days in Nairobi’ used to be our neighbour in Coast. Anyway, these Burundian have taken over the groundnut and the coffee (and KDF – the gluten stomach holder) hawking business. On their part, their Rwandan neighbours have taken over the phone accessories’ hawking business, almost as if by some tacit agreement – bilateral trade agreement or something. The Burundians, night and day, they trade, huge flasks of ready coffee, the mwananchi version, and buckets of said body-building, economic-miracle-worker, KDF in tow. Ever been served by a Ugandan lady? Down on their knees, submissive service that will have you selling your ...
Post a Comment
Read more

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...
Post a Comment
Read more