By Maya Angelou


The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.



By Robert Frost


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.


By Pablo Neruda


Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example: “The night is shattered,
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.”

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
That I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this one, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, and sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not not have loved her great, still eyes?

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered, and she is not with me.

This is all.
In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same the same trees.
We, we who were, are the no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that is certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her ear.

Another’s. She will be another’s. Like my kisses before
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that is certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms,
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer,
and these the last verses that I write for her.


The world has a lot great influence in who we are, who we become and how we become who we become at the end. Some people end up being great people due the great influence around them or some end up being the worst version that they can ever be.

In as much as we would like to ignore the influence our friends, parents, enemies and our environment, on who we become, it still does happen.

Our experiences contribute also to this jigsaw, setting landmarks in our lives and leaving scars as well. Hearts are broken by those close to us, those whom we entrusted our deep secrets.

We end up morphing to counter these. To hide the scars in our souls. to hide the tears in our eyes and keep clear the debris of whom we used to be.

In as much as we would love to have company, be not a crowd “pleaser” and neither a hater of all. be content with God’s daily providence, and learn to listen to your heart and mind.



She Sat There Less Bewildered By Her Environment,

Her Focus Solely On The Product Of Distillation in her hand,

Why White?

Why Red?

Why Wine and not Whine?

Either Way, It Was Sweet!


Her Eye-catching Leg swung,
Back And Forth,
Back And Forth,
Just Like A Pendulum,
Unsettled By The Force Driving It,
She Couldn’t Take In The Punctuality Being Relayed,
And Her Comportment Said It All.


She Taps The Mahogany Top Twice,
In A Rather Cynical Rhythm,
Rhyming With Her Distorted Face,
Had It Turned Bitter Or Was It The Bartender’s Foul Scent?
Deterred By The Salivating Patrons.


It Was Time!

New Book – Riverthink — Poesy plus Polemics

My newest book “Riverthink: Haiku, Senryu & Tanka” is now available at Amazon in paperback and kindle editions, as well as at Barnes & Noble or through your local book dealer. This collection of haiku and related forms came together faster than expected. It was initially scheduled for publication at year end. “Internationally acclaimed […]

via New Book – Riverthink — Poesy plus Polemics




It’s an unpleasant and equally an inevitable event in ones life. However much we all despise it, a day will reach when we’ll all depart earth and go to face our Maker, for all we’ve done down here.

Listening to several tributes got me wondering what will  people say of me when I depart. What mark will I leave? What impact will I leave in people’s heart, life? What difference will I create on earth when I’m not there? What will I be remembered for? Who will I be remembered to be?



We all fear oblivion and what it comes with… It’s like never existing. Living a purposeless life with no meaningful direction. I hope i won’t be one to be forgotten. i share the same fears as in the novel, “THE FAULT IN OUR STARS.”




By Lucy Mwaura


MY mother has always been very honest with me when it comes to life teachings. She tells me when she met my dad, he was just a simple poor village boy with only ambitions. But that did not stop her from falling in love. She accepted him as he was and within the eight years they lived together, they made major milestone in life. From living in a small, single rented room, to being able to build their own home, establishing their own business and; I’m sure they would have done even more, had death not snatched away the man she had invested her future with.

From this I’ve always believed in being a pillar behind a successful man and an inspiration to my own kids. I don’t want to be a clandestine beside a rich man, who I know nothing about the history of his wealth. Yes I know he’s filthy rich, but always remember that he’s also filthy in every other aspect. So let’s talk about the so-called SPONSORS and SPONSEES (we agreed the sponsored shall be called sponsees).

Every time I see a young girl riding in a Range with a man old enough or even older than her own father, I don’t see a lucky girl, rather I see the emptiness in her little mind. Being a sponsee doesn’t make anyone a heroine. I know you feel as a heroine when in that machine, but you should always remember that; behind that successful man there is a strong woman who stood by him through thick and thin, she stood by him during winter and summer. That woman could be your own mother…




Yeah I know you don’t care, you already sold your conscience to the devil in the name of money and nothing but money. OK, I understand. But truth be told, I’ve never heard of any independent woman that sells her body for money… yes I mean a Commercial Sex Worker or how else do I explain a woman who sleeps with men for money?



You call them SPONSERS, what do they sponsor and what do they get in return? We all know there is no love involved in these relationships but let me educate you my dear sisters. Honestly I’m not jealous of you because there is nothing to envy in you. Get these lessons from me, they may not mean anything to you now but someday they will make sense.

In the earlier years our mothers were patient enough to hold on to their men and build them to what they wanted them to be. Ask Kathy Kiuna who was from a posh estate why she got married to a ghetto boy who had nothing to offer. Why she agreed to live with this man in a widow’s home whereas she could have gone back to her rich parents and live comfortably as she was used to.

Our mothers held on because they knew a blessing awaited them. They knew the value of things not the prices. Today you tell me that a sponsor is better because you will never lack, yeah you will never lack anything with a price tag sweetheart, but you will lack everything that has value, which is important.

To tell you the truth you are wasting away your youthfulness with things that will never benefit you. Don’t look at today, think about tomorrow. Would you want to be the wife that cries every night while your husband chops away the money that you’ve so worked hard for with a girl your daughter’s age? Would you want to watch your own daughter disgrace herself with men older than.your husband? I guess not. I know you would want to be happy and true happiness doesn’t come from partying and riding on with sponsors. True happiness comes when you achieve your heart’s desire from your own sweat.

For as long as there is a woman somewhere suffering because of you, you can never progress. That young man who you underestimate could be the next president of the U.S. All he needs is your love and loyalty, that is enough to encourage him to work hard. Pray for your man and God will bless you… let the sponsors stay home with their wives and pay their son’s campus fees.

Seek Wisdom and true happiness. So far I’ve not heard of any sponsee that is successful, and you know why, because there’s a woman’s tears blocking your blessings. Everyone is entitled to God’s blessings, but how you seek these blessings is what matters. sponsors will only add to you curses. Work girl, work and make your mama proud…make yourself proud and be an exemplary example to your kids.

The Devil’s Twilight



Today I meet the devil face to face,

I kept on ignoring this fact,

Not until I was hit squarely on the face,

That the reality unfolding before my eyes,

Needed some heavenly intervention.


Her captivating smile,

Her glistening pupils on her milky white eye balls,

Her deepened dimples,

Her curly hair,

Her outrageously beautiful voice,

All these falling in place,

Upon her fierce face


Her physique,
Her swaying hips that toss men,

Into her great stupor,

Her unbelievable seductive maneuvers,

That has left many as subjective fools,

Her long beautiful, colored nails,

That have clawed and scarred our hearts,

Leaving many soaked in pools,

Of regret, self hate, envy, anger, resentments, hurts.


She commanded,

I subjected,

She ordered,

I reordered my order,

Till I saw the light,

As dusk fell upon the weary world,

And in the twilight the sun rose,

As light overcame the devil.