Inyumba Yu Mulogooli is a finalist in Paris!!
Your verses crack a whip of suspense in precision-famished poetic mental pastures. Your poems are literary gems golden rimmed by mind -tilting suspense, wit, sense of belonging, embrace/love of homeland/motherland, cultural patriotism (ubuntu). These wittingly stubbed poetic nuggets are an identity birth-mark to an African/Kenyan poetess rising to the podium clutching unto her black/red clay Masai-mara palms, some blood-rippling -mind nagging epistles of belonging, dreams of her ancestors and love letters to her homeland/father/grandmother. Cynthia Abdallah adapts her trailblazing childhood/life experiences in Masai -Mara into a satire/metaphor concocted letter bomb ready to explode /shake the global literary scene. The nuggets /gems exhibited here are a drop in the ocean of a forthcoming, nerve-blasting collection by the Kenyan author /poet/artist/writer/filmmaker/educationist Cynthia Abdallah– mbizo chirasha(curator)
My father used to hold his Maasai whip in a tight grip,
His scathing eyes scaring our little souls into unwavering…
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The wind howls; the trees sway,
The loose housetop sheets clatter and clang;
The open window shuts with a bang,
And the sky makes night of day.
Helter skelter, the parents run,
Pressed with a thousand minor cares,
Hey, you there! Pack up the house wares,
And where on earth is my son?
Home skip the little children;
Where have you been you naughty boy?
But the child feels nothing but joy,
For he loves the approach of rain.
The streets clear; the houses fill,
The noise gathers as the children shout
To rival the raging wind without,
And naught that can move is still.
A bright flash, a lighted plane,
Then from the once blue heavens,
Accompanied by noise that deafens.
Steadily pours the rain.
Exciting performance by Mshai Mwangola