Author: James Musau

Go tell my sister

May be she’ll understand you best

May be your language will be relative

May be your words will find refuge in the corners of her eardrums

May be your words will play drums for her

And she’ll dance to the music of such inspirational words

For a prophet is not respected at his own home ground

 

Tell my sister that bare feet today

Is not a guarantee for an empty shoe rack tomorrow

Remind her that insults never break bones

For the good things in life are cultivated for

The better things in life are predicated upon

But the best things in life happen unexpectedly

 

Tell my sister that hard work is the only force

That can make the indefinite life gain a definite shape

Remind her that life will only be less demanding

If she’s highly supplying

 

Tell my sister she at times has to shut up

Swallow her pride and accept to be taught

For only the humble are capable not to  fumble

With success

Remind her that all she knows might as well be the very things she knows

Nothing about in this life, so let her not hold on much to her knowledge

 

Tell my sister that she has to do things differently

Without fear of failure

For failure is never unique

But consistency is ever unique

For same things done differently is innovation

But similar things done the same way is imitation

 

Tell my sister that getting up late

Is the dominion of fate in the fullness of time

Remind her that habitual early risers are habitual

Mobilizers of every tennet of success

For an early bird eats first

 

Tell my sister that a brave warrior is not acknowledged

By the size of his spear but by the size of his sphere of influence

Remind her that life is not splendor but significance

 

Tell my sister that shame accrues the relatives of a mad man

When he gets to walk naked

But fame accrues an individual when he does something

Spontaneous and not his kinsmen

Remind her that the good she does is for her very own good

 

Tell my sister that he that melts her heart

Will also solidify it, it’s normal

Remind her that glue binds papers, cement binds bricks

But forgiveness always binds hearts together

 

Tell my sister that  sweets cause a bleeding gum

But illicit relationships cause a bleeding heart

Remind her that bad company ruins good morals

 

Tell my sister that success is not for everyone

But for anyone capable of containing it

Engrave it to her that luck is a result of preparation meeting opportunity

For the crown of success fits every head but only a prepared head gets

To wear it

 

Tell my sister never to lose hope in life

Unless hope loses her

For hope is always dope

With hope , life will cope to her being

 

Tell my sister always to embrace change in her life

For change will grant her every wings to fly

To every height beyond her reach

Remind her that nonsense will make sense

If sense is added to it

 

Tell my sister that to hide a boil that is under the armpit

Is unwise

Remind her that home is never far for one

Who is still alive

So she can always come home when  her home is the mouth of a shark

For she’s not a sinister child

Thank you

It’s a poem just meant to encourage the girl child on every aspect in life.

By James Musau

#poetictuesdays

When we first heard of freedom

We put stress in free and we didn’t think of dom even for a second

The ground became prone to hailstones and it only could be fitting to set our feet where freedom had landed

We only could set hands on surfaces sanitized by freedom, so this “thing” has been in game way before

So our hearts begun beating for freedom as if  all along it had been beating around the bush

We couldn’t see anymore except with the lens of this freedom

So we couldn’t wait anymore for this “thing” to come by itself, we had to go for it

For more than a thousand triumphs, this thing would be dear to us

So dear citizens had to dare their feet to see if they’d run for it, hands if they’d fight for it, eyes to focus and see if they’d see things clear by the help of this lens

Although it claimed thousands of souls that were more dear to us that even a filled claim form wouldn’t assure us that they’ll be back

So dictionary and few elites around couldn’t make it  crystal clear unless this thing comes around and help us see through our charisma

Why didn’t they tell us of this doom when they tore our cheeks with excitement of freedom?

Was money the justice we demanded and reprimanded for?

Is Kariobangi not our home?

But ka hiyo ndio bangi, I wish the landlords knew this before when they struggled to shake no empty hands with the chiefs and bwana D.C  to let homes stand such soil and later host tomorrow’s nation

When they struggled to line up in banks to get loans they had no sure source to service them,

When cement, iron sheets and such could remain in the custody of such unscrupulous foremen who would busy their foreheads looking at their fat tummies and see they don’t shrink,

When the ministry of lands would always ask for something, I think these ministry should be termed as ministry of hands if we were to land at the truth

So their long term effort to push for legit earnings could just be repaid by a pull down by those hedgehogs

When the tenants that were civil servants but the pandemic reduced them to servants of God,

So if today’s president and stuff roam in limousine, let them know that tomorrow’s in roaming in the streets

And if he/she is in a five star hotel, let him/her know that tomorrow’s president is still pondering on where to find bins not to put dust but to sift for food, so he fears not leftovers but to be left over by friends who just found a bin

And if he/she is in a swimming pool, let him know that tomorrow’s president doesn’t know how to swim in a pool of blood in pursuit of food that won’t make him full

 

So the seats we were chasing for has made it clear that seats are nothing if we can’t table anything substantial and worthwhile for some citizen out there that cant afford a chair

Would these leaders say they know nothing about make ups when they develop areas of their own interest?

Hope they understand that this is cosmetic development

I wish they knew the meetings they shun because their pockets would be light

Make our hearts heavy of the plights we flunk to them

 

I thought that 18 was everything,

So with a few days to hit 18, i’d even call my nursery teacher and disapprove her that 18 is not just a number

For when mum would ask me to hold on at least when am 18 to do what she prohibited me to when young

I believed that would be my time, my second initiation that won’t require a doctor’s scalpel or scissors

I believed that was the time to make distant friends through Facebook as was told

Little did I know that the same Facebook would ask what was in my mind, so I fear answering this for my heart is heavy of my past that no one would mind listening or seeing through it

So when Instagram would ask for my photos, I wouldn’t answer because of the blows that this life has hit me and sun burns  trying to help mum set our table, so I have 18 years of perfected ugliness

So when what’s app asks for my status, I can’t answer this for my life is just full of puzzles I can’t solve

And I came to understand that the ID was not a proof of my adulthood but a reproof that I now have to set my own table soon

So the alcohol I thought was fit for an 18 year old was the same I saw it hallucinate many people’s dreams and always remained as dreams, I won’t dare mine

I came to know that this was the time to make good pilot and doctor as I once thought of or choose to doctorate my dreams

So am yet to come to terms with freedom

What is freedom?

 

It’s just a poem anyway

So freedom is the beginning of responsibility

And not an opportunity to enjoy life.

By James Musau

#poetictuesdays

 

 

 

 

 

At the sandy beaches, beneath the dancing palm trees

In a cool Sunday evening when it felt fresh even with abounding salty waters

Something I less expected happened, I met a police officer

And because I feared bullet wounds, I did nothing but just confoundedly stood there to listen to her flunk her allegations against me

For such were always known for such

So she accused me for killing her time for her schedule was already bending

She accused me of robbing her words for she had none in store to throw them to me as she did to other thieves who had tried to cross her lane

She accused me of marijuana because of the painting of weed on my beech shirt

And lastly treason, for only the white in the opera have all these cases on them altogether as me

So my dark skin sounded to her that may be I bleached dark because also my English wasn’t a replica of dark skin tone

And because time waits for no king, it had to wait her schedule and help put weight to my words

So she chained my hands because waiving good bye could be disastrous and would add sob upon agonizing sob if she’d go just like that

But stand there with crossed fingers to see if fate would convince her to oblige to my words

She chained my feet so I couldn’t head my way but stand there till my feeble legs would strengthen by the positive side of her words of return

She finally arrested my heart and I couldn’t feel any blood pumping but mesmerized on her popping possible pictures if things would lead the way

 

She finally put me on the police van, I see it in my mind

I see the ocs, a woman of iron

It would be lucky if head home with my head on my neck this day,

I think for the first time the temperature has shooted it’s bullet to ninety degrees

She asks of me to give her fully documented evidence that her daughter won’t starve in the waste land we call home

I just  nod that things would be cool

 

Now in the court room,

From this side of the court room, I’ll speak the truth no need of a bible

I’ll even give my words a title, your honor

Infact no need of these chains, I won’t escape

She pressing so close with her pillowry bossom is already a barricade

Please prosecutor charge me of love, am in for it

But your honor, ask this woman that if mummy would be happy,

She’d be the impulse behind the thick of it

Ask her that because mummy was bitten by the sun to make at least it’s rays glitter something into our empty plates

She herself won’t beat around the bush but would play the music of mummy’s intoning words and let it’s rythm bring smiles worth while because mummy has been through alot and it’s just by God’s she’s not through with  this life

And because  I saw mummy out do herself only to in keep us, your honor, let this woman attest that she’d even go to space to bring the moon down for those kids so they’d understand that the sky is never a limit

And because I’ve come from a puzzled background that doesn’t understand the true meaning of relatives,

Let her write to me soon to attest that she’ll make a good aunt, wife and more

Thank you!

 

It’s just a poem anyway,

Enjoy your week and please login to www.houseofhope.co.ke/blog for more poems and also never mind to ask me of a special dedicational poem, I won’t hesitate to scribble down one for you my funs

Am here to write and inspire, have a blessed week

By James  Musau

#poetictuesdays

Wait was the last sentiment

With so much weight for this bait

Although adjustment is advancement,

Such patience was not going to make things straight

 

Ambition was the only ammunition she had

To fight all that was all along had

Adversity sounded as a forever and ever ambush

But hardwork was a forever endeavor to clear the bush of poverty

 

She only could inherit education

But those who could give a hand took no action

Coming to this leader’s office from time to time found no help to avail

All of it was utter derail

 

At times patience sounded as if

Climbing a tree to have fish

And going to the deep for beef

All of which bring nothing to the dish

 

Finally she had a glimpse of that leader

What a relief at last seeing a ladder?

She spilled it out

Spilled that life was hard

But wait was the last word she was told

And he left

She now could escort other kids to school by her eyes

But her feet was to remain at home

Although it already was in the month of March

By James Musau

My wife was older than me

My wife was bolder than me

Her utterance was always a wisecrack

But my ribs wouldn’t crack

Her iron back would always Cobalt my efforts

And together we’d enjoy the little bronze we had

 

My wife used to tell me that living in a palacial home is nothing

If am unwilling to leave my peasant mind

So our neighbors will always envy our muddy house

And on top of owning their storey buildings

They owned a story about us

 

My wife used to tell me that physical ability

Is not determined by muscle size

But by mental perspective

She’d insist that going to the gym is nothing

If my mind had no bisceps to bind goals and opportunities together

And trisceps to make trials in life

 

My wife told me that the greatest aim in life is to limit the sky

And never to let it be a limit

She’d add that with ragged boots am to aim at the goal

And my bowl shall never fail

 

My wife told me that health is not determined by what cooks in the pot

But by what cooks in the mind

She added that the size of the head is not a determinant of the size of the mind

But you’ll have to mind your head before you hit the wall

 

My wife told me that it’s more proud to make life out of it

Than to make it in life

She’d add that am to use the little I have and I’ll get the more I don’t have

For the law of life is multiplication under the hands of care and hope and not addition

My wife told me that if I put stress in words , I’d pronounce them well

But if I put it in mind I’ll denounce myself

She’d add that only an empty man would argue with a fool

 

One she told me that if I need to trek at twilight ,am to run at dawn

But the cause of running at twilight is that I walked at dawn

So I’d mould my own life

 

My once told me that she’d leave me and go far beyond the earth

But I won’t believe for her maternal home was a mixture of bitter herbs

But how could she leave without me gracing her finger with a diamond ring?

But I guess she left knowing that my heart will always ring for her

May peace rest in her where she be

Even if this picture is the only memory of her existence

Thank you

#poetictuesdays

By James Musau