I keep praying you will leave me alone,
It started as an innocent conversation,
A coffee date
Dinner in a fancy restaurant
Later in the week
A drink at the bar
And later coffee in the apartment
I didn’t want the kiss
The caress on the thigh
I always said I had a boyfriend
You didn’t listen
You kept pushing the boundaries
I wasn’t strong enough to keep you away
You thought my no was a yes
I must confess
In the beginning I loved the attention
I had a daily battle with the angels and demons
I knew better
Now I freeze when you call
I am scared to open my e-mail account
Least I find your hate mail
I want out
I am walking out
Just like I got knocked in
©thelma migue, 2011
From the cizoepoetry collection
Jumia
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
THE OTHER WOMAN
Tired of being her
Tired of walking in her shadow
Tired of being put on hold
Seeing me at his convenience
After a hard days work
Getting ready to unwind
Soaked in the bubble bath
Soft music playing in the background
Sipping on a glass of wine
I close my eyes
Loose myself in the dreams
The door bell rings
I slowly get myself out of the bath
Water dripping on the floor
Put on my bathrobe
Tie the sash
Put on my bedroom slippers
The door bell rings again
This time with lots of impatience
I open the door
There he stands
Holding a bottle of wine in one hand
A bouquet of red roses in the other hand
A wicked smile on his face
Oh baby no!
Not this time
I am tired
I want out
I start to close the door
He puts his foot in the door
Closes it behind him
Places the wine on the side table
Grabs my hand
Pulls me close
Wraps his arms around my waist
Looks me in the eyes
Kisses me
I start to struggle
Loose my resolve
Finally give in
Wrap my hands around his neck
Maybe next time I will have the strength,
Maybe next time
©thelma migue, 2011
From the cizoepoetry collection.
Tired of walking in her shadow
Tired of being put on hold
Seeing me at his convenience
After a hard days work
Getting ready to unwind
Soaked in the bubble bath
Soft music playing in the background
Sipping on a glass of wine
I close my eyes
Loose myself in the dreams
The door bell rings
I slowly get myself out of the bath
Water dripping on the floor
Put on my bathrobe
Tie the sash
Put on my bedroom slippers
The door bell rings again
This time with lots of impatience
I open the door
There he stands
Holding a bottle of wine in one hand
A bouquet of red roses in the other hand
A wicked smile on his face
Oh baby no!
Not this time
I am tired
I want out
I start to close the door
He puts his foot in the door
Closes it behind him
Places the wine on the side table
Grabs my hand
Pulls me close
Wraps his arms around my waist
Looks me in the eyes
Kisses me
I start to struggle
Loose my resolve
Finally give in
Wrap my hands around his neck
Maybe next time I will have the strength,
Maybe next time
©thelma migue, 2011
From the cizoepoetry collection.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
DISTANCE AND PAIN
Take my heart
Rip it apart
In it’s place
Replace it with a tin heart
I don’t want to feel
The pain that I feel
The emotions I feel
When I think of you
Tears come to my eyes
When I think of you
My smile turns to a frown
Thinking of the distance that separates us
I wake up in the night
Thinking of you
Stretch my hand across the bed
I feel the cold
That reminds me of the emptiness
It has reached a point
A day can’t go by without hearing your voice
This feels like a year
I have to face the harsh reality
That you are not near
If I had one wish
I would ask you to take my heart
When you leave
And return it when you return.
©thelma migue, 2011
From the cizoepoetry collection
Rip it apart
In it’s place
Replace it with a tin heart
I don’t want to feel
The pain that I feel
The emotions I feel
When I think of you
Tears come to my eyes
When I think of you
My smile turns to a frown
Thinking of the distance that separates us
I wake up in the night
Thinking of you
Stretch my hand across the bed
I feel the cold
That reminds me of the emptiness
It has reached a point
A day can’t go by without hearing your voice
This feels like a year
I have to face the harsh reality
That you are not near
If I had one wish
I would ask you to take my heart
When you leave
And return it when you return.
©thelma migue, 2011
From the cizoepoetry collection
Saturday, March 12, 2011
[SHE,DO YOU KNOW HER?]
She.
She talks with confidence and thinks before she talks.
She jumps not into conclusions and every word she utters is respectful.
Her lips are never twisted in anger or hate.
Her words come from her heart and soul.
She keeps quiet when she has to and talks to be relevant not to be heard.
Do you know her? Do you see her?
Her.
Her love is boundless and she hates no one nor their opinions.
She confuses everyone because they don’t know whether to call it love or kindness.
It’s not being helpful nor being friendly.
It’s plain old pretty love, radiating from inside her soul.
You can see it in her smile; you can see it in her eyes.
You can sense it from her back. You know when she turns, you will feel her.
Do you know her? Do you see her?
When.
When she prays, you can feel the specifics in her prayers.
She is a very prayerful woman, but rarely prays for herself.
She seldom forgets her tribulations while she selflessly fights for fellow man in her prayers. She is a true prayer warrior.
She has a relationship with her God, and that’s keep her in spirit.
Uninfluenced by the church or community, just a purposely God loving woman.
She does good, for her church and is respected across the isles.
Do you know her? Do you see her?
She.
She still opens the door in the morning with no grudges.
And she wakes up hopeful for another day of hard work and blessings.
Irrespective whether the husband came home late or touch a meal not.
She will still cook and place the food, day after day, year after year.
She still won’t show the abuse nor the lines from a slap done on her.
She is just hopeful, as a mother, as a wife, that things will be fine.
Do you know her? Do you see her?
She.
She is well educated, vast knowledge in books and worlds ways.
But she never brags nor feels important despite of all.
She knows a great mind is a blessing and not a weapon for those less in the know.
She shares her wisdom to sundry and all, irrespective of class or status.
She is a teacher and teaches not for remuneration but for love of community.
She is the embodiment of knowledge without the shows.
Do you know her? Do you see her?
She.
Is single and happy.
She doesn’t carry her status on her sleeve nor wear it as a scarf.
She is neither bitchy nor angry. She knows her situation is nothing to hate about.
She whines about men not. She understands that her prayers will be answered.
And know a husband will not come by judgments born out of anger.
She is happy for all her blessings and doesn’t allow the psyche of the society into her soul.
Do you know her? Do you see her?
She.
She works from dawn to dusk.
Selling buns and vegetables along the highway.
You can see her brow with drops of sweat and dust gathering as the day goes.
She uses her lesso to tie the coins and wipe her temples.
Her greatest assets are her customers who drop coins on her oily hands.
You would never know her anguish, by her hearty laughter and sincere smiles.
In the hot sun her smile radiates across the highway.
What you will never know is that her husband brags about kids he never provides for.
Deep down she wishes he wasn’t a husband, but she endures for the children.
Do you know her? Do you see her?
She.
She dashes across the street to her corner office she wishes could change.
She has a three year old child just dropped at the church school.
The little girl keeps asking where Daddy is every so often.
She dreads the question because she feels guilty and tired.
She is exhausted with all the judgments and words that hurt her.
And friends who think she is silly and relatives who are even harsher.
What she won’t tell the baby girl is that daddy is the man who runs that uptown company.
And daddy left some money for her abortion and that was the last conversation.
Do you know her? Do you see her?
She.
She is old and frail.
Done by years of plain hard work and perseverance.
Her legs aches and her back pains everyday.
She has memories of a husband who died early in diseases they could not treat.
She had children of her own who didn’t deserve to die young.
Her own sons who got lost in drinking dens and daughters who rung themselves to the ground by men with promises of money for plain old sex life.
Now she has grandchildren who call her mummy and she begs someday to put food on the table.
Do you know her? Do you see her?
(Inspired by Grandma-Elizabeth Nyokabi, Rita Schulz, Flora-Ritas' Grandma, Lucy my sister and all the women I know, you are all phenomenal)
© john-Kiarie 2011 · English (KE)
She talks with confidence and thinks before she talks.
She jumps not into conclusions and every word she utters is respectful.
Her lips are never twisted in anger or hate.
Her words come from her heart and soul.
She keeps quiet when she has to and talks to be relevant not to be heard.
Do you know her? Do you see her?
Her.
Her love is boundless and she hates no one nor their opinions.
She confuses everyone because they don’t know whether to call it love or kindness.
It’s not being helpful nor being friendly.
It’s plain old pretty love, radiating from inside her soul.
You can see it in her smile; you can see it in her eyes.
You can sense it from her back. You know when she turns, you will feel her.
Do you know her? Do you see her?
When.
When she prays, you can feel the specifics in her prayers.
She is a very prayerful woman, but rarely prays for herself.
She seldom forgets her tribulations while she selflessly fights for fellow man in her prayers. She is a true prayer warrior.
She has a relationship with her God, and that’s keep her in spirit.
Uninfluenced by the church or community, just a purposely God loving woman.
She does good, for her church and is respected across the isles.
Do you know her? Do you see her?
She.
She still opens the door in the morning with no grudges.
And she wakes up hopeful for another day of hard work and blessings.
Irrespective whether the husband came home late or touch a meal not.
She will still cook and place the food, day after day, year after year.
She still won’t show the abuse nor the lines from a slap done on her.
She is just hopeful, as a mother, as a wife, that things will be fine.
Do you know her? Do you see her?
She.
She is well educated, vast knowledge in books and worlds ways.
But she never brags nor feels important despite of all.
She knows a great mind is a blessing and not a weapon for those less in the know.
She shares her wisdom to sundry and all, irrespective of class or status.
She is a teacher and teaches not for remuneration but for love of community.
She is the embodiment of knowledge without the shows.
Do you know her? Do you see her?
She.
Is single and happy.
She doesn’t carry her status on her sleeve nor wear it as a scarf.
She is neither bitchy nor angry. She knows her situation is nothing to hate about.
She whines about men not. She understands that her prayers will be answered.
And know a husband will not come by judgments born out of anger.
She is happy for all her blessings and doesn’t allow the psyche of the society into her soul.
Do you know her? Do you see her?
She.
She works from dawn to dusk.
Selling buns and vegetables along the highway.
You can see her brow with drops of sweat and dust gathering as the day goes.
She uses her lesso to tie the coins and wipe her temples.
Her greatest assets are her customers who drop coins on her oily hands.
You would never know her anguish, by her hearty laughter and sincere smiles.
In the hot sun her smile radiates across the highway.
What you will never know is that her husband brags about kids he never provides for.
Deep down she wishes he wasn’t a husband, but she endures for the children.
Do you know her? Do you see her?
She.
She dashes across the street to her corner office she wishes could change.
She has a three year old child just dropped at the church school.
The little girl keeps asking where Daddy is every so often.
She dreads the question because she feels guilty and tired.
She is exhausted with all the judgments and words that hurt her.
And friends who think she is silly and relatives who are even harsher.
What she won’t tell the baby girl is that daddy is the man who runs that uptown company.
And daddy left some money for her abortion and that was the last conversation.
Do you know her? Do you see her?
She.
She is old and frail.
Done by years of plain hard work and perseverance.
Her legs aches and her back pains everyday.
She has memories of a husband who died early in diseases they could not treat.
She had children of her own who didn’t deserve to die young.
Her own sons who got lost in drinking dens and daughters who rung themselves to the ground by men with promises of money for plain old sex life.
Now she has grandchildren who call her mummy and she begs someday to put food on the table.
Do you know her? Do you see her?
(Inspired by Grandma-Elizabeth Nyokabi, Rita Schulz, Flora-Ritas' Grandma, Lucy my sister and all the women I know, you are all phenomenal)
© john-Kiarie 2011 · English (KE)
Friday, March 4, 2011
BEFORE AND AFTER
Faced with temptation
The body is yearning but
Your heart is not.
That is where I was
It has been years
Since I saw him
It has been years
Since a man touched me.
I would die for that caress
That hand caressing my thighs
The lips kissing my lips
While the other hand
Fondles my breasts
Light kisses,
Yearning kisses,
Demanding kisses
Developing and speaking a language of their own
The short breathes,
Followed by deep mourns and groans
The rustle of clothes
The naked bodies
Bound together by passion and sweat
The screams and mourns
Kind of animal but full of sexual desire
The sweet smell of love making
Cuddling and light caressing
And later falling asleep in each others arms
©thelma migue, 2011
From the cizoepoetry collection.
The body is yearning but
Your heart is not.
That is where I was
It has been years
Since I saw him
It has been years
Since a man touched me.
I would die for that caress
That hand caressing my thighs
The lips kissing my lips
While the other hand
Fondles my breasts
Light kisses,
Yearning kisses,
Demanding kisses
Developing and speaking a language of their own
The short breathes,
Followed by deep mourns and groans
The rustle of clothes
The naked bodies
Bound together by passion and sweat
The screams and mourns
Kind of animal but full of sexual desire
The sweet smell of love making
Cuddling and light caressing
And later falling asleep in each others arms
©thelma migue, 2011
From the cizoepoetry collection.
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