THE BLESSED ONE.

Blessed is the boy,
Who loves the girl,
And is loved in kind,
Through heaven and hell.

Blessed is the man,
Who finds such joy,
In loving the woman,
He met as a boy.

Blessed are the children,
Whose parents are strong,
With help ploughing through,
Life’s rights and wrongs.

Blessed is the husband,
Who cares for his wife,
And receives in return,
Her love, her life.

Blessed is the man,
Who is part of a team,
Made of loving children,
And the woman of his dreams.

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I DON’T WANT THIS KIND OF LOVE

pblI don’t want this kind of love. I’m not used to it, I mean this your kind of love.

The kind of love you keep giving me and you claim it will fry my brain!!

The kind of love that makes me sneak to your father’s compound when everybody is dead asleep, it gives me problems, Jaber you see: I have to wait for your  parents to sleep, call for Osama, your big dog and entice him with some leftover we devoured at my place (i’m not saying you never cook any stews ), then trace the tree you did tie the rope that is attached to your feet and pull just to wake you up (why do you have to sleep that much when you know i’m coming). You do remember what happened the day the rope broke and i had to scale the thorny fence and knock at the kitchen door where you sleep, Dichol  remember how your father chased me thinking  I was a thief! I had to dodge him and lie stiff dead along the fence …he kept stepping on my head thinking it was a stone!

You see that’s the kind of love I don’t want, so stop giving it to me… this your love that I have to align myself with a tree or jump in a nearby bush every time we are talking and your neighbors walk by…

The kind of love that I have to wait till dusk is when we can meet, Dichol why do you hate daylight, why don’t you want to be seen with me!!? Black is beauty only when its hit by the sun…

So add me some little more, because the one you saying will turn me to a mad man is just but cold water… I don’t need it … Honestly I don’t want it, I’m tired of changing directions every time i spot your mother on my path.

Dichol warn your brother, pull tell him to stop writing our names on every sisal on the path leading to the river… I hate gossips…

All i need you to do is to spice it up a bit, daughter of my in-law, you don’t greet me like i have leprosy and when we meet under our favorite tree in odd hours, you would yelp, leap and overthrow my lean frame with what you call a bare hug.

Do you know how ladies slice themselves with knives when i tell them NO..!!! If you cant love me like normal people do then you should perhaps allow me give you some lessons.

I WOULD NEVER WRITE A POEM ABOUT LOVE. 

I would never write a poem about love-

But on that night you showed me

There was nothing left to write but love.

I would never write a poem about love-

But on that night as your drunk words played 

Sweet inviting rhythms in my drunk ears,

You showed me there was nothing left to write but love.



I would never write a poem about love-

But on that night as we took turn on a single bottle of wine,

As my dried lips touched its edge- wet with your wine flavoured saliva,

As I hoped it was your lips instead,

You showed me there was nothing left to write but love.



I would never write a poem about love –

As I bid you goodnight,

As I wrapped you in my arms for a hug- tight,

As I pulled back from you and whispered;

            ‘may I taste your tongue tonight?’

As you leaned forward and closed your eyes,

And you opened your mouth,

As I reached for you and parted my lips too to finally open yours,

As I grabbed your waist,

And I pulled you even closer,

Our groins joined together,

As everything became nothing;

As everyone became no one,

As you became the one,

As we became one,

As our mouth found each other,

And I finally sucked your tongue soft and slow and then harder,

All at once, so tender,

As everything around us on the roof top blew like firework in the dark,

In the city wherein it’s forbidden,

You showed me that if all of these were not love then this is not,

And I still have not written a poem about love

#PillsandPoems 

I’L BE YOURS. 

I’ll be yours until waves no longer roll ashore,
And the seashells stop appearing on the seashore.

Fish no longer jump and frolic in the lake,

And frogs stop croaking after dark.

I’ll hang on tight to the love we have,

Until the sun sets in the east and rises in the west.

The moon no longer comes out at night,

And the sun forgets to shine.

These few things will change the way,

I feel about our love,

But not until the earth stops spinning,

Will I stop loving you.