Genocide

Published by

Kyle Hanton
Genocide
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A young boy weeps,
Hiding where his mother
Put him just before
They got there.
He hides, sobbing,
After watching
His mother, raped
and stabbed,
Bleed out on the floor
Of their one-room hut.
The men come back,
Searching for metals,
Finding none,
They drench the thatch
Roof, wood walls, the dirt
Floor with gasoline,
The smell burns
The child’s nostrils.
The men light a match;
Drop it as they leave,
Laughing.
The match hits
The oil-soaked ground;
The hut explodes
Into flame.
The child screams
As the flames engulf.
His screams fade;
The men walk calmly
away.

MUM

Published by

Lisa Rigby
MUM
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Mum just a few words to say you inspire me,
your heart of gold, I know you’d die for me.
You are a treasure in so many different ways,
I know deep down I owe you nothing but praise.
I’ve finally realised you are my rock,
No more drink, no more t.w.o.cs
as you mean more to me than 20 vodka shots.
All my life living a lie,
I’ve put you through hell over the years.
But hopefully I can make a menze and cry happy tears,
no more restless nights, no more fear.
just an all round sound of cheer.
I’ve written this poem simply to say,
I love you more tomorrow, than I do today.

My Saintly Birth

Published by

brianmugere
My Saintly Birth
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Blue pyramids
There in, I was born
The humid so rigid
Im prone to the thorn

Hurray! Hurray! It’s male
So is my grandee’s ululation
A cheer from a virgin nightingale
Hmmm…all luck to my nation

Soft moans from my mom
Six kisses on my cheeks
Im all wrapped and warm
In a straw bed, that belonged to the Greeks

My eyes crystal clear
Im innocent to the sheath
To the folks am so dear
So was my saintly birth.

In memory of my dear parents, Mr. Daniel Kawuzi and Miss. Loy Wambi

Three Mothers

Published by

Suchaita Tenneti
Three Mothers
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That day, two people died.
No she was alone in the car.
(Thank God for that, some said)
But a tiny life vaporized
Far, far away.
Sniffles, tears, mourns, sighs,
Man in the hall
Baby in the bedroom.
The maid rocks and strokes,
The baby knows better.
“Oh, she’s dead! The love of my life!
Twenty years I have loved her! Twenty!”

A week later, she moved in.
Prettier than the first, the baby thought.
Reds, pinks, oranges flutter about
A touch of lipstick, a dab of rouge
We have a party to attend, after all,
(There’s always a party)
And you’re not invited!
Wails go unheeded
Feminine tantrums pampered.
Diapers everywhere
What’s the maid for, after all?
All alone at night?
You know I’m scared of the dark.
What happened to the occasional cuddles?
The tickles, the giggles, the tucking in?
A separate room?
Privacy?
(What’s that?)
Whims are adored,
Milk bottles ignored
(It was only an inch away)
The maid’s here overtime
At least she smiles
I thought he liked me…
I could be wrong.
He seems happier
But I miss the first smiles,
The first park totters
The first family videos-the laughs, the love
I want to be a part,
The toys are cute,
They’re still not you.

Arguments erupt,
Fights pick up,
He screams, she screams,
There’s banging and clanging.
There’s more fluttering-scarves, skirts, photo-frames,
A swish of black, a begging follower
The door slams
Cries, screams, pleadings
(No! No! Don’t go!)

He bursts in
(It’s nice to see him again)
It’s all because of you!
You won’t stop crying, wailing.
Why don’t you shut up?
See what you’ve done!
Now another’s gone.
Guilty hugs, fake apologies ensue,
Reminiscences of old.
(Where were you all this time?)

The maid was early
(The baby glad)
But she stood perplexed in the hall
Don’t leave me, too!
She blushes and tugs at her plait
Man smiles
(Relieved)
She trots into my room
And my six month old hazels
Beheld my third mother.

Poems for son

Published by

Cleveland W Gibson
Poems for son
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Mom’s heard everything in nature
often dances to a special beat.
Mom’s senior KG son cannot Tango but
his fancy costume looks a treat!
His face is clean and full of shine,
so interesting with such a cute mime.
But to win as a Wall Sunflower Clock,
Didn’t mom once say: Tick .Tock.
Quick! He must show us the time!!!