Mango sun,
Sun that signals hope.
That sunrise that hued in colour,
Represent the beauty of a new day.
Hopes that wake with the dawn,
New day, new script,
Or is it old script, new cast.
Reminds of the song same script, different cast.
Optimism, it’s like a bottle of perfume,
That is sprayed or dabbled,
Whichever catches your fancy?
Smells good, that optimizism,
Would you like a bottle?
It’s sold in ounces, limited only to today’s supply.
Tomorrow has its own scent, fresh, elusive and free.
Yesterday’s is faint, like what’s its name?
Can’t recall, smells a memory of another day.
I’m a mad hatter, you see?
Believing in rainbows, fairies, dragons and possibilities.
Let’s have a laugh,
Smile like a clown.
Let’s sing in the rain,
Do a two-step on the dance floor.
Let’s do a trick or two, amuse the audience we will.
Let’s eat ice-lollies, and some chocolate cake.
Let’s play or better yet let’s watch cartoons.
Let’s enjoy this glorious day.
Let’s laugh until our hearts burst in song.
Tomorrow morning shall soon be upon us,
Awake we shall and find it was all a dream!
It’s back to work,
And the yellow hot sun.
Monday, May 16, 2011
The man who broke his heart for me
The preacher said to the ladies, if you are heartbroken, turn to Jesus. Jesus who loves you so much he died for you, broke his heart that you may live. This man that loved women, not in a sexual way but in a spiritual way. He stood up for women like Mary Magdalene, who was condemned to death for adultery, he saw past her sin and saw her, the woman that yearned to be loved, wanted to make a living because she had no man to take care of her. Jesus looked beyond her label of prostitute, forgave her and told her to change her ways. That is why she washed his feet with her tears, dried them with her hair and poured the costly oil, her fortune on his feet. She acknowledged that this man was not an ordinary man.
Then there was the Samaritan woman, Jews were not to hang out with them. Jesus talked to her, had a drink with her, and showed her that she was more than just an adulterous woman, she had a destiny. She was so amazed and awed she was the first woman to spread the gospel. She got from Jesus living water. She got transformed by the power of Jesus love, his compassion and knowing that as a woman and a Samaritan at that Jesus could have ignored her but she touched his heart and he changed her destiny.
Then there was Mary his mother. They say the true measure of a man is how he treats the people around him, especially his mother and sisters. Jesus loved his mum so much he did the first miracle for her. This woman who so believed in him, she was the first convert to Christianity, she believed in him even before he was born, believing what God said that he was the messiah. And even as he died he thought of his mum, knowing that his mother's heart was breaking for him even as he did break his heart for all people. He told John, the disciple who he loved to watch over her as his mother. Oh what a man of sorrows yet a man of compassion.
Then there is me, the prodigal daughter that run away. Wanting this life’s pleasures and gambling away my queenly inheritance. I broke Jesus heart, kept him nailed to the cross with my deeds. Yet even in darkness, his light and love was still shinning in me. And when I came home, bruised, hopeless, broken he ran to me and embraced me. Clothed me in new garments and had a feast of rejoicing in my honor. He forgave me for my sins, restored me, let me know that he loved me and always will. This man that continually heals my broken heart, and lets me know that I am a princess. This man that broke his heart for me, let his body bleed that my heart and soul might be healed, and give me a life beyond the one I live now, an eternal hope and destiny. It’s true this man broke his heart for me.
Then there was the Samaritan woman, Jews were not to hang out with them. Jesus talked to her, had a drink with her, and showed her that she was more than just an adulterous woman, she had a destiny. She was so amazed and awed she was the first woman to spread the gospel. She got from Jesus living water. She got transformed by the power of Jesus love, his compassion and knowing that as a woman and a Samaritan at that Jesus could have ignored her but she touched his heart and he changed her destiny.
Then there was Mary his mother. They say the true measure of a man is how he treats the people around him, especially his mother and sisters. Jesus loved his mum so much he did the first miracle for her. This woman who so believed in him, she was the first convert to Christianity, she believed in him even before he was born, believing what God said that he was the messiah. And even as he died he thought of his mum, knowing that his mother's heart was breaking for him even as he did break his heart for all people. He told John, the disciple who he loved to watch over her as his mother. Oh what a man of sorrows yet a man of compassion.
Then there is me, the prodigal daughter that run away. Wanting this life’s pleasures and gambling away my queenly inheritance. I broke Jesus heart, kept him nailed to the cross with my deeds. Yet even in darkness, his light and love was still shinning in me. And when I came home, bruised, hopeless, broken he ran to me and embraced me. Clothed me in new garments and had a feast of rejoicing in my honor. He forgave me for my sins, restored me, let me know that he loved me and always will. This man that continually heals my broken heart, and lets me know that I am a princess. This man that broke his heart for me, let his body bleed that my heart and soul might be healed, and give me a life beyond the one I live now, an eternal hope and destiny. It’s true this man broke his heart for me.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
The light of my heart
Love that man the Son,
His love radiates like the sun,
Bringing warmth to the cold and breaking icy hearts.
Constant too like the sun is he,
Always there his light shinning on the good and wicked alike,
Piercing through hearts broken,
Shining his light in the dark and bringing souls to enlightenment.
He who sat with his enemies having a meal,
Tolerant of those who hated him,
Turning those enemies into admirers.
He who modeled servant leadership,
Who humbled himself and washed unclean feet with water,
Unclean hearts with his blood.
He who knowing they would betray him,
Loved them anyway, spread his arms in love and died,
Forgiving them before he died.
This man who forgives my daily betrayals and departures from his path.
Yet this man still loves me even when I break his heart.
I love this man the Son,
The light of the world,
The light of my heart.
His love radiates like the sun,
Bringing warmth to the cold and breaking icy hearts.
Constant too like the sun is he,
Always there his light shinning on the good and wicked alike,
Piercing through hearts broken,
Shining his light in the dark and bringing souls to enlightenment.
He who sat with his enemies having a meal,
Tolerant of those who hated him,
Turning those enemies into admirers.
He who modeled servant leadership,
Who humbled himself and washed unclean feet with water,
Unclean hearts with his blood.
He who knowing they would betray him,
Loved them anyway, spread his arms in love and died,
Forgiving them before he died.
This man who forgives my daily betrayals and departures from his path.
Yet this man still loves me even when I break his heart.
I love this man the Son,
The light of the world,
The light of my heart.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Growing older
Am growing, older every day. Everyday the canvas that is me changes. The lines now become more pronounced. Am glad for the laugh lines, for all the joys big and small that have drawn themselves on my face. The tears of loss and sorrow too have etched their ink on my skin. With growth has come learning, hard painful lessons. The only love am sure of is that of God, my family and my closest friends. Of these only God has never made my heart bleed, never hurt my tender soul. My heart's been broken and the hurt so deep, its unfathomable. And these too have left their lines on my face and in my heart. Am wiser though, experience being a bittersweet teacher. I have learnt that sometimes all you have is you, because others dont believe in your dreams. Growing has rid me of the arrogance of youth and believing that things will go as planned. I have realised; things, plans, people change but I must keep my true dreams alive, the ones that feed my soul and make it glow. Am older and wiser, learning to grow from a young sapling into a strong mighty tree. Am growing.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Broken dreams
Where do broken dreams go?
Is there a hospital for broken dreams where they can be fixed up and mended?
A hospital bed where they can relax,
Get IV'ed with antibiotics and fluids to get their strength back.
Can dead or dying dreams be resuscitated,
Brought back to life by technology,
By machines that spark them up and cause them to live again?
Do broken dreams feel pain and do they bleed?
Where do broken dreams go to die?
Is there a mortuary for them
Or are they just dumped and buried by the roadside,
with no one to care about them.
Where do broken dreams go?
Is there a hospital for broken dreams where they can be fixed up and mended?
A hospital bed where they can relax,
Get IV'ed with antibiotics and fluids to get their strength back.
Can dead or dying dreams be resuscitated,
Brought back to life by technology,
By machines that spark them up and cause them to live again?
Do broken dreams feel pain and do they bleed?
Where do broken dreams go to die?
Is there a mortuary for them
Or are they just dumped and buried by the roadside,
with no one to care about them.
Where do broken dreams go?
Talking over with words
I wanna break the rules,
Skid on thin ice,
Go where no man has gone before.
Tired of being miss goodie two shoes.
There's this fire that burns in me, hot, scorching.
I have a dream, a passion to succeed.
My dreams are sketches on paper and in my head.
Childhood visions of being a great writer,
And the words they burn in me,
Wanting to get out.
No fire can quench this dream.
And it will be, this dream.
Am breaking the rules,
Shattering the windows of my soul to give a peak inside.
The world is my stadium and am ready to play.
So break open the bottles of ink,
Let’s paint the town red with words that intoxicate,
Let’s break the mental barriers that lock down our creativity.
Let’s rebel against the institution of what’s been set in literature.
Let’s break it down, break the rules.
Let’s take over the world with our words and thoughts.
Skid on thin ice,
Go where no man has gone before.
Tired of being miss goodie two shoes.
There's this fire that burns in me, hot, scorching.
I have a dream, a passion to succeed.
My dreams are sketches on paper and in my head.
Childhood visions of being a great writer,
And the words they burn in me,
Wanting to get out.
No fire can quench this dream.
And it will be, this dream.
Am breaking the rules,
Shattering the windows of my soul to give a peak inside.
The world is my stadium and am ready to play.
So break open the bottles of ink,
Let’s paint the town red with words that intoxicate,
Let’s break the mental barriers that lock down our creativity.
Let’s rebel against the institution of what’s been set in literature.
Let’s break it down, break the rules.
Let’s take over the world with our words and thoughts.
Deranged characters
Running across my brain,
Like athletes on weed are some characters called words,
That want to form a coalition called a story.
I am the captain of this ship
But the shipmates they mutiny and take over my brain.
They force me under pain of torture to write.
Wake me up from sweet dreams
Force me to write in blood and tears what they create in my mind.
They have no mercy these characters.
They are like the animaniacs,
Crazy, deranged but sweet at the same time.
Their aim is to take over the world,
One poem, one story at a time.
Am a walking, talking human puppet,
Controlled by little characters running in my head!
I need rescuing, am not responsible for my actions.
Don’t blame me for what I write.
Am only a puppet being manipulated, a mask as it were.
Everything can be blamed on,
Laid squarely on the heads of those funny characters in my head called words.
Like athletes on weed are some characters called words,
That want to form a coalition called a story.
I am the captain of this ship
But the shipmates they mutiny and take over my brain.
They force me under pain of torture to write.
Wake me up from sweet dreams
Force me to write in blood and tears what they create in my mind.
They have no mercy these characters.
They are like the animaniacs,
Crazy, deranged but sweet at the same time.
Their aim is to take over the world,
One poem, one story at a time.
Am a walking, talking human puppet,
Controlled by little characters running in my head!
I need rescuing, am not responsible for my actions.
Don’t blame me for what I write.
Am only a puppet being manipulated, a mask as it were.
Everything can be blamed on,
Laid squarely on the heads of those funny characters in my head called words.
Winds of fortune
Blow winds of fortune,
Blow my way.
I need a change,
Need good fortunes.
It’s been a crazy year,
Ill winds blowing my way,
Trying to blow me to the ground.
Keep rising slower and slower.
Need strong winds to propel me into my future.
Lift me up and help me stand.
I need a change of fortunes,
And I need it like yesterday.
Good fortune winds smile and blow my way
Blow my way.
I need a change,
Need good fortunes.
It’s been a crazy year,
Ill winds blowing my way,
Trying to blow me to the ground.
Keep rising slower and slower.
Need strong winds to propel me into my future.
Lift me up and help me stand.
I need a change of fortunes,
And I need it like yesterday.
Good fortune winds smile and blow my way
Sweet addiction
The taste of it makes my brain rush,
At 180 km/hr.
My heart starts beating fast,
My body gets all energized,
My taste buds dance a tango,
My fat cells throw a party.
Building blocks they are for those hips, butt and thighs,
Easy to gain and hard to lose.
But am addicted,
Can’t help myself.
My eyes wander when they are in the room,
My willpower shrivels and hides under the bed,
No courage to resist,
This overwhelming addiction,
To sugar,
In sweets, biscuits, cakes, chocolates, juice,
The list goes on and on,
And the hunger grows,
For more and more SUGAR.
At 180 km/hr.
My heart starts beating fast,
My body gets all energized,
My taste buds dance a tango,
My fat cells throw a party.
Building blocks they are for those hips, butt and thighs,
Easy to gain and hard to lose.
But am addicted,
Can’t help myself.
My eyes wander when they are in the room,
My willpower shrivels and hides under the bed,
No courage to resist,
This overwhelming addiction,
To sugar,
In sweets, biscuits, cakes, chocolates, juice,
The list goes on and on,
And the hunger grows,
For more and more SUGAR.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Mum - Happy mother's day
She has the best heart; her heart is open wide for her children. She's always there for her children and would give up everything for them, her love, money, possessions and even her life.
She is soft, her hugs are the best. She knows how to comfort when a child is hurting or just needs reassurance. Yet she can be hard, disciplining with a firm hand when children are out of line.
She is an angel when children are sick, nursing them back to health with her love, concern and a bit of medicine. She is her child's best friend being the first to believe in them and encourage them to achieve their dreams. She is their advocate defending them when they are in the wrong. She makes the best food; there is no better tasting food then hers.
She is an angel, an advocate, a nurse, a banker, a teacher, a chef, a doctor and a best friend. She is everything sweet and good.
She is a mother. My mother, my sister, my best friend. She is mum. And I wish her the best always. Pledge to love her till my dying day. I pray that God will give her a long life. I pray God's favor on her life and his blessings abounding in her life.
Thank God for mum.
She is soft, her hugs are the best. She knows how to comfort when a child is hurting or just needs reassurance. Yet she can be hard, disciplining with a firm hand when children are out of line.
She is an angel when children are sick, nursing them back to health with her love, concern and a bit of medicine. She is her child's best friend being the first to believe in them and encourage them to achieve their dreams. She is their advocate defending them when they are in the wrong. She makes the best food; there is no better tasting food then hers.
She is an angel, an advocate, a nurse, a banker, a teacher, a chef, a doctor and a best friend. She is everything sweet and good.
She is a mother. My mother, my sister, my best friend. She is mum. And I wish her the best always. Pledge to love her till my dying day. I pray that God will give her a long life. I pray God's favor on her life and his blessings abounding in her life.
Thank God for mum.
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