Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Sunset years.

Will you love me when I am old?
When am wrinkled,
When my eyes have lost their sparkle?
Will you love me when my breasts sag,
And I have given up fighting the battle with fat and age?
Will you love me when my mind takes longer to create thought,
And my creative ideas become shadows,
When the mind that you now love is slow?
Will you love me when my skin is not so smooth,
And this body that you adore isn't as shapely as it is now?
Will you love me and cherish me,
Until we are old and grey,
Walking slowly into the sunset.

Monday, February 27, 2012

Animal farm (Some animals are more equal then others)

See them laugh, their faces show no worries, no frown lines, skin made smooth from the best lotions, creams, oils and cosmetic procedures money can buy.

Carefree, money ain't no problem, only problem is how to spend it. They are priviledged, drive big cars and live in extravagant houses. Drink imported wines, spirits, coffee, teas and cigarettes.

An expensive healthcare cover to treat even that minute cold, and millions to cover that serious medical condition, that cant be treated locally.

Children that go to the most expensive schools in Kenya and abroad, children that may never have entered a matatu, its a driver even from the house to the shops.

They are our people, our leaders, our politicians. They are out of touch with our reality, our situations and struggles. Yet they say tuko pamoja, we are together in the struggle.

We struggle to survive, they struggle for power. In the end we become powerless when we give them our power.

Is this the uhuru our people fought for, where a few enjoy and others suffer, carrying the worries of their country on their backs and knees as they struggle to survive?

Its time for change, time for the pawns to arise, its time to say no to impunity. Its time to show that some animals were not created more equal then others. This country does not belong to pigs and dogs, it belongs to everybody who struggled for its liberation.

Let the revolt begin with education and end with our ballot papers. Its time for change!

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Fantasy Kiss!

When I kiss you,
May my essence be transfused with the kiss.
May my essence travel through your bloodstream and infect your blood.
I want to be a virus that infects you,
That cannot be cured.
Let my kisses and touch be the only thing,
That can heal your fever and calm your body down.
I want to brand you with my kisses,
Brand you that you are mine and mine only.
I want my kiss to intoxify you,
Make you high, get you addicted.
I want my kiss to be your alcohol,
Make you mellow, make your knees weak.
My kiss should be your chocolate, sweet,
So sweet you want more.
I want my kiss to make you burn hot like fire,
Yet in paradox make you cool down like cold water to a parched throat.
My kiss should be like a soothing balm,
Yet make you a warrior ready to go to war.
I want my kiss to be passionate,
Show you how much am digging you
And how much I love you.
I want my kiss to be complex,
Yet a simple thing that does one thing,
Make you wish to make me yours.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Shattered dreams

Outside she's calm, with a plastered smile that doesn't reach her eyes. Inside she's a storm, emotions of anger and shame burn.

She cries into her pillow at night, when she's not trying to push away his hands, as he holds her down, has his pleasure with her. He likes it when she hurts, when she struggles.

When he's done he smokes a cigarette, and tries to hug her and tell her he loves her. She flinches when he touches her and tries to curl herself into a ball.

When he's done with smoking, masking the scent of sex he leaves, after warning her for the millionth time not to tell. She cries her eyes out, until she falls into an uneasy sleep.

In the morning, she drags herself to the bathroom, tries to scrub him off her but he's in her head, the smell and taste of his alcoholic breath imprinted in her brain.

She wears her uniform and goes to make breakfast. Then a key is heard turning in the lock, and an older tired version of her walks in. They sit in the sitting room quietly. Children are to be seen and not heard.

She then leaves for school. As she leaves the house where her dreams and hopes shattered and her childhood stolen. A home where she is a substitute for her mum who works nights, a sexual slave to the man she calls dad. Each day a bit of her fades away, her 9 year old self turns old before her time.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Why I love writing by Noela Akinyi (a poem from one of our standard 8 children that we are teaching poetry)

I do write because it is interesting.
It makes me explore my thinking.
It makes me feel optimistic.
It makes me share my experiences.
I write because am special
And I can do anything to make me happy.
I write to improve my talents.
I do write because I am a person of my own dignity and principals,
And I know that my desire is to write.
I write because my word touches,
My heart and soul.
I write because poetry is all about life.

Alone (a street child monologue)

The gentle breeze whispers.
I hear a footstep,
My heart beating with anticipation,
I turn but alas there is no one there.
I am a child of the streets,
I am all alone.

Morning is here,
I see people walking here and there,
Too busy to notice me.
All I need is a shilling or two to survive.
Everywhere I see families together.
Why, oh why wasn't I given a chance,
To be loved and care for?

In the afternoon,
I will scrounge for leftovers in the dustbin.
If I get a few shillings from begging,
The kiosk will sell me some stale food
Or I might be lucky to get some food,
That is thrown away in the dustbins.
I dream of eating fried chicken
But where can I get such food,
Unless I steal and I may end in prison
Then I would never be free again.

Night has come again.
My stomach grumbles.
I lie down on old tattered jacket,
That someone threw away.
I shiver from the cold of the night,
Whispering a prayer to the heavens,
Hoping, only hoping,
That tomorrow, sweet tomorrow,
I will meet someone who cares,
And I will never be alone again.

The gentle breeze whispers,
I hear a footstep,
My heart beating with anticipation
I turn and alas there is no one there.
I am a child of the streets.
I am alone.

PS. I wrote this poem when I was in form one in 1993 and it was published in the first issue of the Young Nation, of the Sunday Nation. Tumetoka mbali. I have always had people (my family) who encouraged me to write. That's why I want to mentor young kids to achieve their writing potential, because some times they may not have anybody to encourage them to write.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Am I not a Kenyan like you? (cry of the IDP)

Drip drop,
The rain falls on my abode,
Letting drops into my sleeping place,
On the ground.
It’s not a house this place where I live,
It’s a tent, torn and tattered.

Four years after getting this tent I am forgotten,
Just a statistic,
Coming up in the news,
Showing how many were displaced in the violence.
The politicians I hear,
Are campaigning again,
Saying that they have billions to spend on campaigns.
Why won’t they spend some of it on me?
Give me somewhere to stay,
Return to me my dignity,
Which I lost in the 2007/2008 political violence.
I don’t live here by choice, but by circumstance.
Politicians and government make promises,
But am still here,
While they sleep in their cozy mansions,
Which I hear are featured on TV.
I don’t have a TV, to watch the news,
I lost everything in post elections,
My property and money, family, and my dignity.
I voted for a better Kenya,
And it turned me into a refugee in my own country.
They say I am internally displaced,
But they don’t seem to want to change my status.
Am I not a Kenyan like you?
Did I not build this nation like you?
Is it that my life is worth less than yours?
Is it that I am not worthy of remembrance
Unless as a statistic of the political violence?
Why have You forgotten me?
Left me to live and die,
In poverty and shame.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012


I am forgiven.
Messed up, broke his heart,
Turned my back to him.
I was unfaithful,
Wanting more then what I had with him.
So I run off,
Spurned his love,
Looking for other loves,
And I fell into addiction,
Looking to have fun and enjoy myself.
But he loved me,
Never forgot me,
He forgave me.
When at last I reached the end of my rope,
And I was hurt and broken,
I came back in tears,
He did not hesitate,
He opened his arms for me,
And crying I run to them.
He loved me,
Even when I didn’t love him.
His love is so amazing,
What kind of a love is this,
That a man would love me so much,
He would lay his life down for me?
His love is so amazing,
And his forgiveness means everything.
Thank you Jesus for loving me,
And giving your life for me.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Our hearts beat as one!

I am a slave to your love,
It binds me like a spell,
And you become my master,
Holding my fate in your hands.
Its magic this love,
It holds me fast, spellbound.
I am addicted to your kiss,
It’s like chocolate,
I must have more.
My thoughts toss and turn,
My body comes alive,
When you touch me,
Or even at the mention of your name.
My love is deep,
And strong, so sincere.
I long for you,
For your embrace,
For that touch from you that makes my heart,
Become a drum that beats out a tune.
There was never a love like this,
A passion that ripened,
Like fruit plucked from a tree.
This love is sweet,
And I feel like I could taste,
The elixir of love forever,
So that this fountain of love may make me young forever,
Like the fountain of youth.
I am enchanted by you,
You make me your Queen,
But I am also your fool.
My love grows through the seasons,
Yet it stagnates also,
Dries sometimes when the rivers of love,
Seem to dry up.
We are not perfect,
You and I.
But we are two souls,
Intertwined by love,
And the illusion of happiness.
I am yours,
You are mine,
Together our hearts beat as one.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Breaking my heart and body - Domestic violence

I had enough love to fill an ocean,
But I had cried enough tears to do that too.
Broken to my foundations,
Never thought that love would ever turn to hate.
I gave you my heart and body to cherish,
Never thinking that you would use my body as a punching bag.
I wanted so much that fairytale life,
Happily ever after.
But you broke my heart,
Each day breaking it a little more.
First with the emotional abuse,
Then a slap here, a punch there.
I tried to leave you,
But your love was like a drug,
An addiction so I kept coming back.
I wanted to leave,
But at first I was ashamed,
Then I thought maybe I deserve it,
Maybe I wasn't the wife you wanted.
In the end I endured it,
Hiding the punches and fractures with makeup, concealing clothes and lies.
Now its over,
I can rest easy,
No more beatings, no more abuses.
You cant hurt me anymore.
This last time you broke the record,
You finished it with one blow,
With a knife to my chest.

You are special!

You are special
Let no one tell you different.
When I look at you,
I see God’s unique hand,
Carving out patiently and lovingly,
The features I see before me.
Let no one look down on you,
Because of any disadvantages you may have,
Because the Lord knows why he put things that way.
Never forget to thank God,
That you are alive.
God loves you,
With all your virtues and vices,
And he forgives you,
Every time you mess up.
You are so precious,
That he gave his only son,
To live and die among us,
So that you may know,
How much you mean to him.
No matter what you’re going through,
He’ll be there for you.
You may have many friends and relatives,
But know that none will ever be there for you like he can.
He will never desert you.
He’s there with you through the good times,
Laughing with you,
And through the bad times,
Giving you his shoulder to cry on,
And all the times in between,
Like when your moody, ecstatic or in a pensive mood.
He watches over you day and night,
For he never sleeps.
His love is the greatest gift you can ever receive,
And his mercies endure forever.
So know that no matter who you are or where you’re from,
You are special.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Love isn't - Stop domestic violence.

Love is sweet in the highs,
When it feels good,
And hands reach out to touch, caress, or hold.
Love is bitter in the lows,
When it hurts,
And hands reach out to wound and hurt.
Love is meant to build,
To be sweet and bring a smile to the face.
But love can be cruel,
It breaks hearts and bones,
And tears down confidence.
But is it love when the one you love,
Wants to kill you,
Slowly by slowly,
Wounding your spirit,
Making you feel worthless and unloved,
Destroying your body,
One blow at a time.
That's not love,
Love doesn’t hurt.
Say no to domestic violence.

Raylitpoems 2012

Thursday, February 9, 2012

You are my valentine!

When am not with you,
I miss you like parched desert earth misses rain,
Like a baby misses its mother's breast and comforting arms.
Without you am like Batman without his Batmobile,
Louis without Clark Kent because you rescue me from myself,
From drowning in loneliness.
I am a puzzle, incomplete without you,
But with you the pieces fit and I become a complete picture.
I am a song that you play,
You make me sing sweet melodies.
You make me feel all woman,
And I become a flower that blooms at your touch.
You are the sun to my moon, you light me up,
Keep me warm like a fire that heats up a cold night.
Your love is like chocolate,
So sweet I have love cavities.
You stole my heart like G4S, from a strong room.
You make my heart bleed when you hurt me,
Break my heart sometimes with your indifference
But you’re my Doctor Love,
You bandage my love wounds with your kisses and touch.
You are my valentine,
The keeper of my heart.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Be her angel (FGM)

They said it would make me a woman,
That it was the only way I could get a husband.
I didn’t want it,
That merciless cut.
Mother and aunties said I must go through with it,
It was for my own protection,
So that I would not feel desire for another man,
Apart from the husband they would choose for me.
I cried, I didn’t want this,
But culture had to be followed.
So I went for the cut against my will,
And the pain, oh the pain was excruciating.
It hurt, and I bleed,
Rivers of blood tickled from my body,
And as it did I felt my innocence slipping away.
It took a long time to heal,
And the scars are still there.
In my head I still feel the pain,
I still scream for that innocent 12 year old girl,
Who lost something precious she can’t get back.
That wound still affects me,
Affects the woman I should have been.
Years later as I bear a child,
The pain from that cut is doubled,
I felt no pleasure from the creating of this child,
Because the cut affected my desire,
And it made having sex painful.
I wish I had someone to defend my rights,
To say no on my behalf that day,
To say no to FGM.
I may not have had an angel come to save me,
But you and I can be that angel for someone else,
Let’s say no to FGM,
Advocate for women’s rights,
Let a girl have a bright future.
Its time to put an end to FGM.

Monday, February 6, 2012

My love, relax

My love,
Come put your head on my lap,
Tell me about your day.
Tell me what’s in your heart,
Unload your stress.
Come let me listen to you,
Let me comfort you.
Come let me be your counsel,
Tell me your plans,
Let me give you ideas.
Let me massage your head and shoulders,
Take away the stress.
Come trust me,
Tell me what’s in your heart,
Let me in.
Let me be the woman God meant me to be,
Your helper, your confidant, and friend.
Come let me sing you a song,
Relax and let go,
Come let me comfort you.

For my future husband, wherever God is hiding him for now.

I am not a chips funga - Mr. Politician!

I don’t trust you,
Mr. Politician.
We have a history, you and I.
Been seduced by your words in the past,
Let you get into my head and heart,
I trusted you with no reason,
And you kept breaking my heart.
Your selfish, all that matters is you,
Your bills, your houses, your cars, your kids, your health.
What about me,
And the promises you made to me.
You romanced me,
Told me, the Mwananchi that it was all about me.
But you treat me like a chips funga,
Use me then don’t want to see me,
You won’t take my calls,
Only look for me when you need me.
For you it’s all about using me,
We don’t have a relationship.
I am tired of your lies, your false promises,
I am tired of you using me,
You have broken my heart, and my country.
I’m done with you.
I’m older and wiser,
Your words no longer seduce me,
You’re just a player,
Looking for easy bait.
I am looking for something better,
Someone who really cares about me,
Cares about my future and country,
A man who respects my rights,
Who upholds the promises he makes to me.
Someone who cares about my children,
And wants them to have a brighter future.
So Mr. Politician,
Lose my number; you have already lost my vote,
Mteja hapatikani kwa sasa.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

A disease called tribalism!

It truly was a weapon of mass destruction,
And everywhere people were armed.
It was a weapon created by the colonialist,
Used to divide and rule.
Hurray, freedom was granted
But the poison was already in our systems.

It was deadly that disease,
Because it had a sleeper effect,
Lying dormant for many years, no outbreak.
Symptoms were there in stereotypes, biases and hate speech,
But we ignored them.
It was spread not through the air,
Like most deadly viruses
But through words and actions that stained the heart and mind.
The social scientists who knew what was going on stood idly by,
Observing like it was a social experiment.

The weapon grew and mutated,
Changing every day becoming more deadly.
In the homes, offices, at the bar, in schools and even in church it spread.
It infected the heart first,
Turning love into hate then it poisoned the brain blocking out reason.
Then it became a religious fever,
Temperatures rose as the fever turned fanatical.

One day the disease got an outbreak,
When tempers rose and reason died.
Many people died, others got raped, and injured.
Majority got off with just memories of the outbreak.
Now for many the outbreak hate and violence is just a memory
But many hold it in their hearts.
The deadly virus did not die,
No medicine was given,
Just bandages to cover the wounds of the ugliness and the scars,
But underneath no healing under the skin, the wound festers.
So it festers and mutates this disease,
As people watch, waiting for the next outbreak.

The problem is intellectually we know there's a disease,
But socially we don't seem to have the will to cure it.
It's time to come out in the open.
I am infected and affected.
The drugs for the cure are love, reason and understanding.
A combined approach to mental and social health.
But we must agree to be treated,
For if the drugs meet resistance they don't work.

Let us eradicate this disease of mass destruction,
Take your medicine and complete the dose.
Create awareness so that people know there's a cure
And encourage people to take it.
Let us together eradicate the disease,
The weapon of mass destruction,
This disease called tribalism.

Raylitpoems 2012

(Picture of African fighters getting ready to battle)

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Forbidden fruit

Your forbidden fruit.
I am Eve and I want to eat that fruit.
I know I shouldn't but I want to.
Looking at the fruit it looks so juicy and succulent.
I want to touch.
Taste it with a kiss,
And then take a nibble or two.
I want to taste the sweetness,
Lick up the juices.
I fantasize about that fruit.
I want it, want it bad.
But every time I think of reaching for it,
I remember but God said ...
So am left torn between my desires and God's word.
Forbidden fruit sings a siren song to me.
I want to be seduced
But God's word calls me to turn away and walk away.
Forbidden fruit looks so tempting!

Friday, February 3, 2012

Let me hold you!

Come closer,
Let me hold you, hear your heartbeat.
Let me look into your eyes,
Eyes that shine with love so deep,
I want to drown in the river of your love,
Because I know you'll bring me back,
Give me CPR with your sweet kisses,
Your soft lips that tease me and make my heart flatter.
I love you today, more then I loved you yesterday
And I would love to spend my tomorrows with you.
I love your smile and how it makes me feel.
I love how you make me feel like I can fly,
That I can conquer anything that comes my way.

Come let me hold you,
Let your sensual scent fill my nostrils,
Let me breathe you in.
I want this moment to last forever,
To hold you like this.
I love you; I hope I can show you how much.
I don’t want to speak the words,
I want to show you, shower you with love.
Come my love let me hold you,
Feel your heartbeat,
Sing its song of love to mine.
I love you sweetheart.

Thursday, February 2, 2012


If friends were like gems, you’d be a diamond.
Your smile is as dazzling, as a diamond in the light.
You’ve been like a ray of light in my life as long as I have known you,
Shining for me when I have been in despair,
Or even when I have been as gay as a lark.
You have made me laugh,
When I should have been crying on your shoulder.
You have been a great friend,
The type that’s hard to find,
Because they are rare treasures.
A treasure to be held tightly,
Because I have searched many years to find it,
And mostly I have been finding stardust,
Not the real kind of thing.
Our friendship has evolved like a diamond from the mine,
Dug up, washed, cut from the rough
Into the diamonds they are now.

I hope our friendship will remain,
As strong as the diamonds,
Becoming more precious as time goes by.
May we always take care of the links,
That binds us like pieces of jewelry together.
Know that no matter where I go or who I meet,
You will always be my diamond,
A diamond in the rough,
Never perfect but never noticing the flaws,
And always constantly close to my heart.

Raylit 2001

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

That Man!

You make the butterflies dance in my stomach,
And have a party.
You touch my heart,
Make it beat fast.
There is something about your smile,
That reaches past my defenses,
And makes me want to trust you,
Even when you break my heart.
You bring out the best in me,
Yet you also bring out the worst in me.
You make my moods swing,
Sometimes hot, sometimes cold.
Your like chocolate sweet,
But sometimes like lemon bitter.
You bring out the woman in me,
Make me feel all sexy and goofy,
Yet your bring the shrew in me,
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
You bring out all the range of emotions,
From love to hate to indifference,
You got me swinging from emotion pendulum.
You are the past,
Or you are the present
Or maybe you are the future man,
That holds my heart.

raylitpoems 2012


At times a situation can be like the weather,
Your basking in the sunlight,
But in the distance dark clouds are gathering,
Threatening to move in.
The glow of the sun is suddenly gone,
And it gets freezing cold.
Then it begins to rain,
And you cant find a shelter from the storm.

You curse yourself for your stupidity,
In not noticing what was going on.
Know that even when it rains,
There is a rainbow not too far away,
Waiting to come out and show its splendor,
When it does you know,
Everything will be alright.

For the sun is coming again,
To show its glow and radiance again.
It will warm your bones, remove the cold.
Things will get better,
The clouds are becoming silver again.
Remember in the storm,
The plants grow, bloom
And give forth beautiful colours.
Don’t despair in storm situations,
Because what you thought was an obstacle,
May lead to your success.
Hey, at times it doesn’t hurt,
To enjoy the rain,
For who knows what it will bring
But whatever happens know,
That out of it something grow
And you’re a better person for it.

Raylit 2001