Poem G & R

 

Thou art my finest
heart thou rest
thy noble blood
hath found warmest

 

 

In thy ways that loveth
that envy doth scorn
but abundance in thy spirit
hath found a place to shine

 

 

in thy chest i cuddle
thou profound embrace
bonding gathers thy together
In a place to feel warmest

 

Thy heartfelt smile
…mouthful laughter
Contagious
hath found soulful


powerful friendships are easy to see than to feel, so often your spiritual bondage spirals from deep within and crumbles to the surface; at least if you will always deny that your philosophy of friendship is bleak, at most your discreet lie of belonging eventually fades that loneliness turns to form. But once in a while best friends appear; make it so real, they perfect it, and you live longer than the days, see happiness forming from truth , because then if friends won’t matter, relationships will.

…………….poem unedited…..Tribute to best friends

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poem———Suicidal love

You haven’t married
from the sumptuous sweetest
of him that you desired most
Sipped from the goblet of his passion
Wiped your lip with a dry linen of deceit
Thrown your desire into emptiness
Love him not if you promise

You haven’t cast your body
to death into the sea
that your loss swallows to feel
your love that soothes
like the stream of the desert
__Soonest ends clogged
Marry him not if you pledge

You haven’t sloughed your body
to death off the cliff
to make vengeance to the days
that fed on your innocence
And your holiness to die without?
To leave us devoid of your lifetime!
love him not if you promise

You haven’t patched your heart
with a sorrowful string
to mask a wreckage of love
but only painful will stay
if it is loving that you weep
but only if death he shall bring
Give your heart not if you pledge

If you haven’t cast
your memories into dust
Rather memories of lust
Of him you dispel farthest
cast his muse to the wind
Spare not his provenance
Spare your love for the future

but only if death he shall bring, let it not be yours


Nancy committed her fourth suicide attempt, overdosed with a bottle of a lethal pesticide, she hung in the jaws of death to pay for love that never became.
I wrote this poem after grieving her torment-watching her wallow in pain-on her would be death bed save for the nursing in kind.
I could learn well how to discern at self-inflicted pain- The pain of love- that would be painless in death.
She could open her eyes and for some reason, held my hand as though she would feel yet once more.
It was difficult to know how earnestly Nancy would have loved to lose herself forever in the emptiness of suicide, and yet at the same time if she might have wanted to live. The pain of love was the most vulnerable place that  would see her cuddle in shame, sorrow and utter concession…..that where man trades humanity for deceit is found a deep trench that a woman falls to break her fragile framework of hope. She grapples in vain to clutch onto an edge to pull herself up again. She will be stronger than before if she will emerge to the surface, nonetheless she might be weakly hinged to fall back into the trench to wreck the more.

The poem Suicidal love wants you to taste the poison and then you walk away unharmed. Dare let him go, his imperfections shall follow, it is as much love to dust off without holding back a tinge of your choice.

love whole but in wisdom—-you matter to creation like you will never know.

Author: Nsimamukama
Creative nonfiction
poet and blogger

A fall of a future – Poem

 

If you won’t change your mind
You have loosely veiled your pain
And before you can see in the future
It is painless to haven’t been something
In the same vein, far from you could have known
And mightn’t know how sweet you would be
–Before you change your mind

 

Before it is made to your own
It can only fall far away!
And your world laden with your wishes
Whilst it is fair enough to your beliefs
To make dreams a fairy-tale
And mightn’t know how sweet it would feel
–Before you change your mind

 

You will call it a stone
Before you feel it soft
You will call it a shame
Before it becomes a corner stone
You have become irrational
You will lose when you don’t know
–Before you change your mind

 

Timeless to forget
To your profound self
That you never carried to the future!
To your founding morality
You have cast in the wild!
And mightn’t refill the spirit you have lost
–Before you change your mind

Wallowing in self-pity
In the spell of the sun you wither
And carried forth the fears to your future!
In the stint of the snow you feeble
And mightn’t have been destroyed for your weakness

–Before you change your mind



Before you change your mind, you might loose the dividends to your future. In life, where there are no return buttons, but you can change your mind, save your future now.

 

Religion has not solved our problems

Destroying Islamic fascism

First of all, for the first time I have seen a woman who serves the epitome of freedom-freedom that represents all that is peculiar to a realm of modern society.
Typically, she has abandoned religion to fight sin.

What do you think?
Faith represents our connection with our spirit and religion represents our connection with the world. Implying that our faith can be intact even when our connection to the world is wavered or even destroyed. People who believe in religion (perhaps those who have been nurtured under a conviction of religious traditions) are torn between the reality of the modern evolutions and religion (because religion is culture so it cannot be independent on traditions and yet evolution is reality)

Have you ever been a bit bothered by a tinge of knowledge, having thought you have been enslaved by religion?
This question perhaps will draw a line between what Zineb El Razoui called a barbarian and a person living in a modern context.

She vehemently expresses a fact that religion should not be an ultimatum. Personally I too believe that culture in its strength of being an inherent phenomenon that regulates our behaviour has no justification whatsoever to control the changes that come with human evolution…so we have to take it truthfully as though the Bible does not change with time because its message is only a fundamental message of God

Zineb El Razoui former Charlie Hebdo journalist and a French Moroccan writer has a realistic argument that truly represents a modern time. She was born of and raised in a moslem family, but that did not predetermine her ideology and proudly, hitherto hasn’t yet deterred her freedom to become indifferent from the Islamic dogma.

What point does she put across?
Its not actually a point. It’s a barrage of negations upon the larger denomination of societal beliefs, but which beliefs are those of her very own household. Her contentious book “destroying Islamic fascism” is based on the facts emanating from real life experiences even though the Islamic doctrines have stood the taste of times.

Who is she to depict this daunting paint of adversary- in the face of the Islamic fury of persecutions massive executions-and speak out loud? She has put her family to test but all in the name of standing for what she believes in.

This strong and yet soft expressive woman has a candid spirit that reveals of the unsavory teachings of the Islamic religion. She out rightly speaks about the Islamic fascism that enslaved especially Moslem women for thousands of years.

How about this…what would you think every Moslem woman thinks of…? “Other than simply for the sake of our religion, for us young Moslem girls, not a real thing that is Godly nests in our minds to convince us faithfully that hiding our natural endowments is absolutely a good thing…” She doesn’t veil because she has learned that veiling is sexism.

What is not sexism? Denying women their dreams of having a modern social fulfillment? She highlighted so many examples that would deem the Moslem ideology a subject of contempt.
Unless I can measure up to Zineb’s courage, I cannot afford to delve into her solid and candid ideas of her book to which apparently she has braved to bear the repercussions.

But what’s the point?
Are the interpreters of the scripture getting it right? Is it important to have a distinction between faith and religion so that where religion fails, faith can control .Are people willing to be enslaved by religion, or do they lack the courage to challenge?
I should frankly mention that religion should not be the ultimatum because people hide in it to get connected to the world. (That is to seek identity or ignorantly to follow instructions).

Teaching and learning about God is a spiritual endeavor that finds its place well placed in the heart of a believer. It’s all about knowing what the devil does and what God does. It’s about repentance, love, forgiveness…
Why is the congregation wandering, looking where to find a safe haven? Because people are nurtured to believe in religion other than their faith, it has become easier to be intuitive of their surroundings instead of conscience so that our behavior is rather predestined by culture.

The world is not fair, there will always be the wrong man; there will be wars, Moslem will kill, Catholics will drink and pastors will mint money. Sin is sin, it is not wise to attribute sin to the surroundings and yet our conscience lives. It’s better to condemn what is sin not what is not right and our conscience has a clear distinction between those two. Religion does not solve our problems.

Author. Nsimamukama
Proud author of the anthology “leaf of hope”


The ideas represented herein are not entirely a creation of my own, but views frankly expressed on BBCs Hard talk by the writer Zeineb El Razoui

Resemblances

ffg………….I am an artist, sensitive to catchy and dull parts of life. Both of you became dearly dramatic to my sense of relation.
I met your daughter a few days ago and today, I saw your picture. In 5 years’ time, when your daughter stands in the same posture, the picture will literally portray the same person.

“You truly have adorned me with your rob of glory
I walk with a flame of honour to my shadow
So I snap my feet and slough my legs in your mighty

You mothered me enough like a lioness
Each crying you treated me to your sense of humour
And I have laughed in your loudness

Your hand touched to relieve the hungry and depressed
Your benevolence has become a place to live
So I am living to give your charity

Your tongue always healed with pure kindness
Your mouth blessed with darling whispers
So I have grown into a green canopy shedding your compassion

Your heart laboured a hefty of unjust folly
Your heart that forgave without keeping pain
Has returned so I can harness harmony from your justice

I do steal a lot of your make up
I do fit in a number of your shapes and dresses,
But also I do fit in the shape of your mind.
So then I will live the exact good you are made of

Dear mother, I hardly come to terms with a biological genetic gamble. I do feel that to have become any kind of your being was from wanting to be like you. “

…………When your striking resemblances matter, we think of a wonderful replica of a great motherhood, on the flipside, we think of unfortunate rebirth of a cursed motherhood.

 


This piece is excerpt from the original literary gallery of my anthology, so it is unfairly incomplete although a slight meaning can be discerned.

Ha! fresher at medical school

Politics is ostensibly dubbed a dirty game
Although Medicine is famously a dirty gold mine.
Excused, any fresher is naturally sunk in a political ditch
The fear is just digging a dirty gold mine.

For thy have sought not yet
Nor known the resilience there is

In politics, expectations are as free as gifts!
Their hands are poised to scramble
For, everything might come unto them

When even rich, all yearn for something
For their quests remain insatiable

In politics, they are lucky
Their ideas are spontaneous. Freshers don’t think
They don’t make mistakes
To judge them is inconsequential

Once you are there, the fear is being a dirty gold miner
The cadavers are unclean blah….blah…

In politics, no man is small.
They are larger than a stack of silver

There’s much to wander in the unknown
Although the corridors are numbered

Nothing to care
The walk of shame dwindles unknown

In politics, there’s much to ridicule
The fools are many.

So, medicine roars with dirty breath
But subtly a beautiful gamble.
For the years go by! Once we were like you are now
And the beauty is in the wealth within a “fresher”

 

—————————————————————-unedited

tribute to freshers

vanity mirror

Vanity mirror
Is deservedly a force to reckon with.
That mirror tells my face, shows the movements of my body and tells me to shine a spot in the limelight.
From it I discern my shapes and etch a character
I avert my shame and predict my chances.
And because every man loves beautiful, I leap to the shrine of mirrors where my physical being awaits to be loved

Although, MY INSIDE remains unscathed, no man is averse to it.
Whatsoever it is-dirty or stinky, it is peaceful.
Mirrors have truly a reflection of ourselves
Where the outside shines more is indeed a thrill for the outside

“I want to see myself
I want to love my body
I want to see the shine on my skin
Grease with rich cosmetic
My hair falls graciously onto my shoulders
My breasts are bold and lazy
My lips as succulent as a straw berry
The angelic smile indeed as pure as a divine given”

All yours! Sofia…

A flash of beauty, strikes hard, where man shudders
And pounces back and forth to sniff, seize or run away.
It’s the magic of a star-struck.
No one hates the beautiful. They are enviable
Angelic, innocent and naïve
Sometimes scary and ugly

On the flipside,
When mirrors are broken;
“MYSELF” is no more than a distortion
I am left with blind spots, moulded into ambiguous being
That, which is unpleasant,
that seems to have escaped from the inside
The thorns of my roses begin to prick into my flesh
So I keep ears at end hoping I am not trading myself
For the patches that I do not see
I am truly afraid of not feeling beautiful

But where does beauty come from?
Of course in mirrors and bodies, art and design, fashion and glamour
And also in music and poetry…
In colour, light, soil and water, in fauna, flora…
Beauty sprouts from triumphant heroism
Emerges from the pinnacles of victories
From the princes and princesses of the earth,
The charming that are born with silver spoons in their mouths

Where?
Did it come in the delight of Noah to his loyal dove?
___The womb of the virgin hand maid of the Lord?
The water of life between Jesus and the Samaritan woman?
Pedigree of the humbled Mother Teresa of Calcutta?
Or, the valour of a legion that became of Nelson Mandela?

Rather in the breath of a virgin who heaves with a sigh of life
When her man hastens to salvage her soul from the pangs of doubt
And tells, “Sofia, you are beautiful…”

___in a mother that sings a lullaby for her baby to sleep
In the voice that soothes the pain of a hapless child
Or in the hand that gives to the hunger of a beggar

When one morning you decide to see THE INSIDE of you,
To look for yourself in yourself
When Vanity mirror has no character nor wisdom
When no one, but yourself

What shall you find?

In bold, Beauty,………………………………………comes from spirit.

 

——————————————————————————————-unedited

 

To a love a moon

To a love a moon

For the love of God…!
To have loved and lost is not better than never to have loved at all
then…I’ll fold my elbow to the ledge of my window
where I stare at the dusking sky

Oh the moon, of the quiet skies!
Hallowed be thy love…I have not felt in a long time
Your stars that fall graciously and glow all night long
Scent your love to me like the pollen of dawn
I keep smelling it as though I can feel you

You have gone far away from my significant other
That much I can I resent your distance
How much more can I love in wishes?
How can I understand I can love again?

Oh the moon of the quiet skies!
I cry all night like a hungry baby
The exquisite pain of love…
That has become delicate to say
has taken its on me
The night will be long, days linger over my head
My love has faded like an old paint
But I stand in my cold feet, it will hurt and pain
And only then our lost love is not in vain

Oh the moon of the quiet skies!
When it was warm and beautiful, you ran away
…I never saw that coming!
Until now, I have not overcome your ways to depart
Once you were gone, I am loath to love
The she lovers of the earth are unsavoury
So I have kept wandering in solitude

Oh the moon of the quiet skies!
Once you were gone, I dream a lot more;
“The queen slipped from the edge and rolled down the cliff
Down at the bottom of the earth
Where the demons of lust awaited to seize
She clutched on a fig, whence she was trapped
So I flew wing my wings to salvage my queen”

Oh the moon of the quiet skies!
Let me tell you Flora’s secret
She feigns her love for the king!
She runs to the shore to find her true love
I would then utter a wail and yet she beckoned on me
She flings away her wings and floats on the ocean

Oh the moon of the quiet skies!
Save me the fantasy of true love
My mother said, it’s not a fairy-tale
If I wait, it falls once in a blue moon
I am afraid though to hold my breath if I might die young
So give me hope that holding on a little longer is
A way to love again

Oh the moon of the quiet skies!
Only then you were mine alone
I tread to think of you much longer than I can hope
You must have wanted as much as your shine.
So you have gone…
___to love in abundance
Your secrets were far mightier than I knew
Your graces were more sacred than myself

So you have gone.

To love a moon is not better than never to have loved at all.

Author : Nsimamukama          Creative nonfiction writer, poet and blogger

 

The power of a picture

 

IMG-20180126-WA0003A picture is a story
About someone, about a place, about time, about history
It’s a place to remember… it’s a person to remember…
It’s a fond memory of childhood, youthful and yesterday
It’s a precious preserve of time passed

A picture is a translation of language
It speaks with a décor of words galore
When it is altruistic, it’s a monument of wisdom
When it is artistic, it’s widely pungent
When it’s prudent, it is larger than decorative
Then it’s elaborate and larger than a mountain

When it is sensitive, it is sophisticated
When it’s romantic, it glitters its teeth in white
And tames with “a smile unforgotten”
When it mimics, it blends in the colour of nature
When it is critical, it goes back in time, to borrow a tinge of tradition
How wider than a novel!

A picture is sensible with a truth undisputable!
Oh! It gives her a credit peculiar to the intellect
___To be liken to the secret ingredients of glamour
It gives her the power to be known
To be mindful of thought
To be thoughtful of choice

Sometimes, a picture says about people…
It scents their aura of wisdom
Of course it reveals their inner sense of art
Borrows recipes of fashion to the outside
And paints their natural flairs in sweetness
It lies sometimes but keeps its secrets

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A picture is nothing more than yourself
It’s everything about your wisdom
It is wholesome when you are beautiful
It is beautiful when you are truthful
A picture paints your true story on the hoarding
And the enemies are the secret admires.

Ambition

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Ambition as potent as a flowing river, will find bypass whatsoever

Rappers know it

A lifetime stream of dreams

 

Ambition is priceless.

 

Mother’s dream

For her child, leap to prosperity

Leap to everything

Nothing would change a mother’s dream

Miner’s grapple on their shovel

A poet’s crave of romantic flair

A stare on elusive lover’s lips

Nothing would waver their energy

 

Like a thousand nights of a dream

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A reverberating fantasy of desire

A fleet of same wishes

Nothing would change hope

 

An infinite sentence of one phrase

A rhyme of a hymn chorus

An echoing sound of one word

Nothing would change tone

 

No better days than tomorrow?

Ambition is a liar

Beautiful liar

Nothing would change expectations

 

Obsession of time telling

Obsession of time telling

Obsession of time telling

Nothing would change fantasy

 

 

——————Ambition is priceless——————-