Upya Fresh

  By the tree that was shrine to our love I reminisce of what was another life I miss your lips – yellow mangoes, drenching with sweet Eyes, balls of simsim, lazy – submitting me to still Hair, curly, coal, brushed to stern The feel of your skin, silky and tan. By the tree that long hid our secret There we would whisper, kiss, create Sunny morns in winter, moments of tender Butterflies in our palms, away let fly, banter Lighting and fury, the emotion Trembling, heartbeats, matched in motion. By the tree, felled, no longer there A stranger come, still I care Love rooted, spreads thick in my mind The power of love, dragging me behind My eyes, they fly with the shooting star A million I wonder – are you there yonder? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mfq2XDo1n-c

  Mr. Steven Akumu was a man of many talents. In another life, he had occasionally caressed the guitar to submission. Then, comely ladies clamoured for his attention. Ever generous, he had reciprocated accordingly. This, then, is one of the stories he strummed to life. Listening to the journey he took his audience to with his guitar skills, you could tell that it was partly gossip and partly experience. He was that good. “The man flirts with the guitar, persuading it to accompany him to Mombasa. The story in the song is about a man. And Fatuma. The ocean breeze… the man, tired of the city, seeks refuge in a dream sold by a mysterious traveller in a moment of serendipity… The song is in snatches, glimpses of a memory that is the tune, the lyrics different in the heads of the listeners. Perhaps, haphazard – for men long differently. Fatuma, role plays. In the dream, she is a school girl. She has that dangerous look of innocence, of naivety, even. Young girls are like that, luring...

  One, two, a step Three, four, a leap A-lovin’ deep, steep A dance for them not limp. Hue, the sky, grey the way A splash and a wave Dancers, they surf Five, six, they take leave. Spell-bound, wanderers, they tease A thrust, a dip, they flirt In the steal, pink, the kiss Stills, beats, weak – the heart. Orange is come, to the sky – the dive Quick, the beats; always there – life Dancing higher and higher – paced Lovers in another dimension – space. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iuPIDntz08I Kindly support my art by buying my books: ''A Funeral Dress for Nyasuguta' and 'Love Told, Poetry Souled, Family Bold' by following these links: https://shorturl.at/giAIL   https://nuriakenya.com/product/a-funeral-dress-for-nyasuguta-by-mark-mwangi/

  Song and goodwill, is the morning Luck and cheer, with the dawning A touch of sun, the crowning There is faith and a-hopin’. Mid-morning, visits, the realisation Witless actors, in another’s production An amoral system, the organisation Heavy for the mind, this rumination. Eve comes, the melancholy Tears stream – no longer jolly The soul – empty; hungry – the belly A day’s progress, there is no joy. https://studio.youtube.com/video/mu_MOrONlpQ/edit Kindly support my art by buying my books: ''A Funeral Dress for Nyasuguta' and 'Love Told, Poetry Souled, Family Bold' by following these links: https://shorturl.at/giAIL   https://nuriakenya.com/product/a-funeral-dress-for-nyasuguta-by-mark-mwangi/

 I come, I go, I went I pick, I pack, I sent I drive, I crash, I dent Money – I borrow, I lent. I plant, I weed, I till I buy, I seal, I deal I gather, I thrash, I mill Hungry – I cook, eat, my meal. I work, I tire, I sleep I imagine, I create, my dream In the morn, I smile, the sun – my beam The weekend – I gather and play, my team. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nvn3myDuYLA Kindly support my art by buying my books: ''A Funeral Dress for Nyasuguta' and 'Love Told, Poetry Souled, Family Bold' by following these links: https://shorturl.at/giAIL     https://nuriakenya.com/product/a-funeral-dress-for-nyasuguta-by-mark-mwangi/

  Friday is for dancing – light and night Friday is for melody – oh boy, the joy Friday is all yellow – a day to get mellow Friday is for dance – the weekend, entrance. Friday is for freshening - the longing Friday is for escape – we are game Friday is for loving – to get us moving Friday is for dance – the weekend, entrance. Friday is for laughter – no time for haters Friday is for kisses – picking up the pieces Friday is books, hooks, looks –glam, no need for alarm Friday is for dance – the weekend, entrance. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Avcq_Qz3VEQ Kindly support my art by buying my books: ''A Funeral Dress for Nyasuguta' and 'Love Told, Poetry Souled, Family Bold' by following these links: https://shorturl.at/giAIL   https://nuriakenya.com/product/a-funeral-dress-for-nyasuguta-by-mark-mwangi/

  His looks taboo – they consume His steps playful – he is much practiced His voice, seduction – blueberries, a lick of gold, your dream told, poetry souled, your wild side sold, he makes you fold He is the man - The Total Man. His heart of steel, tempered His lovin’, urgent, maddening – the way it is delivered He seeks permission not – all the same, it is granted Him they loathe, they hate – yet, he is wanted This heartache that livens - them ladies – much desired. The man with the juice, he is cool In many ways, strong – he is a bull Ladies, he swings, he waltzes, he tangos To places dark, forbidden, his essence – he dangles He paints, colourful, with possibilities – he dazzles Dark, sweet, in his loving’ – always an angle No angel, The Total Man – in his presence, ladies crumble. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eg4tblXGWD8    Kindly support my art by buying my books: ''A Funeral Dress for Nyasuguta' and 'Love Told, Poetry Souled, Family Bold' b...