Let My Cry Touch You, Fate
Let my cry touch you, fate
You who killed my father
And let my mother follow him
Down below six years after
Let my cry touch you, fate
You who caused my guardian
To hate and maltreat me and
Drive me away seven years after
Let m cry touch you, fate
You who made me roam
Without a precise future after school
Confused even five years after
Let my cry touch you, fate
You who caused me to be
Dried up of love now that I
Miss mother fourteen years after.
poem by Samuel Munachim
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Grieving Like a Fulsome Song
Grieving like a fulsome song
Harps the exit of the loved
Wreaths will curtain on the pane
As with pain the loser sighs
Mournful irony will quip
That his loss is disguised boon
Lesser pain perhaps, but this?
We must let him still to weep
He will cry and rent the air
Quarreling with God or fate
Asking why it must be him
Puzzle no one can resolve
Quizzes of the same allure
Leaved etched lines above the eyes
Raised and stoic like the priest's
Causing one to age with speed.
poem by Samuel Munachim
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Pride is Power
Think of that woman
Smugly ensconced on her
Backrest
She would prefer to give
Of her wealth
Than beg for anything
She is proud
And exerts power
Over her beneficiaries.
Think too about that
Beautiful girl
Who shakes her bottoms
This way and that
On the road
She woos boys
But does not show it
She is proud
And exercises power
Over her lovers
Think of the pastor
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poem by Samuel Munachim
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Song and Dance
Till dusk tomorrow
You play your lute;
Birds above your head
Supply needed chorus.
The wind punctuates the stanzas,
Happy melody and relief;
The calm rippling is
In your chest.
Pipe and reed
Supplement percussion;
Sekere and gong,
Added audiophones alluring.
Sing in synchronization,
Sombre symphony;
Mild and mellow,
Graceful and neat.
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poem by Samuel Munachim
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They Thought I Was a Thief Too
They thought I was a thief too
Get those handcuffs jiffily
Let us brace him
How I quaked!
In terror we pray
Gnash our teeth
Our knees knock,
Our hearts resigned to fate.
It was my voice and identification
That affected my release
I was simply lucky
One of them knew me.
In terror we pray
Gnash our teeth
Our knees knock,
Our hearts resigned to fate.
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poem by Samuel Munachim
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On the Day My Father Died
On the day my father died
I should have been laughing
It was April fools’
But the joke was too dear
Usually it would be a quip
And we would roar
In bogus laughter
Today it was an eternal slumber
And we had to hush hush
Patrick would not
Sing of old roger now
The lyric would sting
Nicolas would not play ball
No one would cheer
Look at mama sitting
Like the world has closed
Soon her head would be shaved
And the accusers
Would come to say
She killed her spouse
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poem by Samuel Munachim
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My Struggle is to be a Man
My struggle is to be a man
In every respect.
A man is not simply
The owner of a rod,
Even if that is a criterion;
Women adore that rod
And use it against themselves
In sadistically pleasing pain;
They moan yet are happy,
They cry yet insist on more -
A woman will always love a man.
My struggle is to be a man
In every respect.
A man is not simply
A successful worker,
Even if that is an ambition;
Some men are slaves
And earn a keep washing pants on Sundays
In shameless smugness;
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poem by Samuel Munachim
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I was a Child
I was not the one
Who killed my father
I was quite young
When he died.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
They say he loved me
Willed me grow great
He played with me
We sang in the eves.
I was a child, what could I know
I was too dazed even to think
We hoped for brightness
And for tomorrow
Then he slumped
To breathe his last.
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poem by Samuel Munachim
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