Day 22 of Poetry Challenge



What is the first car you bought/drove/remember? Write a poem about it.

Never owned a car, never really drove one either

Mama gave me death stares every time I tried to bring up the subject

Mothers are divine beings, almost psychic I should say

But the passenger seat is just as important

Always the DJ, unless big bro steps up

She is part of the family, everyone goes to her

And we’re her babies as much as she is ours

And she has watched us grow up as she gets more scratches and duck tapes

Could never resell her, our fates are tied

I never stop believing in her, no bad vibes in the car please

Sing along, we hear your engine, this is our sing right

My sister’s first baby, I am just the proud aunt

Who could never see our baby wheels ever do wrong.



Day 21 of Poetry Challenge



‘She’s the strangest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.’

Petals dry up faster in the cold

The sun makes you glow

For every time we laughed at darker melanin

Send the petition out, flyers every where

So we laid down the plans, a slate for all of us to just be ourselves

Forgive all

On the day, we all were there , skin and all, the way the creator made us

So she could be more comfortable in her skin

It is more beautiful by the day, aging well like wine

Naked and willing to accept, we waited

Then she arrived, poise and all

Just a product of our criticism

Could not be more further from our naked truth

Strange as they come.


Day 20 of Poetry Month



Write a narrative poem detailing a specific childhood memory.

Apples half eaten, soup made but never taken

Library visits, the car still waiting

“I cleaned the car, daddy let’s go”

She promises not to lose the  book again

Anything to get him out of bed

Stop cleaning the car, go sit and her him laugh once more

Hear a joke, lay down just be

The next time he will leave the room

You can never hear another dry joke

No clouds, no  sun, just breathless memories

Gone, best comedian known to her existence.

Day 19 of Poetry Challenge


1 (5)

Write about how you see yourself ,personality,name,looks,whatever you think shows who you are.

Sometimes I know, sometimes I don’t. I go though what I call ‘shedding myself’. It is a form of peeling that has happened not necessarily periodically, it is haphazard and I welcome it any day. Very few friendships have survived this transition, I guess I have met a lot of seasonal people who I have loved, but never halt my growth spurt for . I am selfish like that. I sincerely believe that I am ever growing because I am constantly seeking knowledge. We might rave today but don’t be surprised if I never show up to such a scene ever again. I never apologise for moving on and I love being alone. I like climbing trees and hugging them and what I wear usually reflects my mood.

Nothing and no one can make me remove my pajamas or wear shoes if I don’t feel like it. I almost never feel any pressure to do anything outside my comfort zone. I think it is very difficult to negotiate with me because I hardly ever compromise, unless I have vetted you and it is absolutely necessary. The fact that I love a good Chai latte says more than I would love to admit.

Day 18 of Poetry Challenge



Find a character creation guide or create one of your own. Think of everything from hair color and family status to favorite movie . Know them inside and out. Once you are done, write a poem about their memorable experience.

Never boarding a bus without a destination is safe

And predictable but not necessarily boring

The mind did get really exhausted

Constantly fighting off the unknown

What if I just left home for a while and just be

No limp, no doting to make life safe

So he did, took the third bus to dock in, 3 being his lucky number

Hey, look at us believing in luck, take it slow now

Luck, not in that conservative house

Prayer fed and clothed us all

The house that was a village

It takes a village to raise a child, uncle used to say

Uncle, you would love this

So on the bus, dawn giving way to sunrise

He dropped off on the fourth big stop with the gentlemen with the colorful socks

Hey, at least we can say the socks had us in a trance

So he walked around, further into the awakening city

So good to be unfamiliar

Hie, he could almost greet everyone

And what satisfaction the puzzled look would give him

He asked around for a recommendation

Ndati’s was the place to be for a hearty breakfast

He made his way carefree belt fastened

The limp non-existent that morning

Bustling, just the right set up

There was only one table available

Well when fate screeches, I heartily accept it’s call

Smack in the middle of Ndati’s cafe

Sat a young men, who just wanted to know if he could be comfortable on his own

Sipping on Ethiopian freshly brewed coffee lavished a young man who had never known loneliness

Buttering whole grain toast ate a man who would go back to his village like home

With full knowledge that he could always leave and still be okay.


Day 17 of Poetry Challenge


1 (34)

Write a poem describing yourself from the point of view of someone else.

Uncharted waters, so you’re not sure if it is fear or excitement you feel

You do not stare, she never allows you too

She will look you straight in the eye

To confirm just how determined you are to look at that which you do not understand

Comprehend, maybe it is overated

Her laugh catches you by surprise

She never smiles hence you assumed she could not laugh

Her independence annoys you, because she is not so extraordinary

But that’s just it, she leaves an after taste of a waterfall about to break your walls

She is so uninterested until you mention something against her vices

She is bold in her speech, unafraid, but keeps quiet just as quickly as she spoke out

Again you need to wash out the after taste

She is crazy you can tell, but she will punch you just for thinking it

Or at least her eyes say that, always on guard, loyal to the thoughts

She is not rude, but yet there is this hostility about her free spirit

A walking contradiction if your vocabulary allows

Funny how her looks are the last thing that hits you

It is as if she tucks them away and puts on her soldier uniform on

I wonder what made her believe everyday is a struggle.


Day 16 of Poetry Challenge



Respond to the poem you posted yesterday with a poem of your own.

Do not victimize us for caring so much

Our nursery rhymes were tales about how all depends on us

The home is where the future generation is nurtured

Make a good home

But you know us

We cannot possibly stop there, we overflow with care

Now we are raising other people’s sons to be come our son’s fathers

That can only end well

Whatever happens it can never be his fault

So here we are soil, back at your bosom

Swallow us for every time we thought we could raise men

And ended up with fatherless men

The curse of caring, you brought this upon us

We have always done as you requested of the daughters of the soil.

Day 15 of Poetry challenge


Post a poem (written by someone else) that you love (for any reason).


Breathe, I have one last thing to say...

Your mother was an old, vibrant soul.
Naomi Nothando Dube? Wasn’t that her name?
A daughter of the soil,

she birthed you out of auras and Afrika,

beauty and fragility.

Your words recite her truths,

stories of slavery and sub-Saharan romance,

apartheid and rain gods,

Your ebony heritage has never been so sexy to me.

Your lips turn into a smile,

You say,

“Mama fed me porridge with one hand,

and wrote feminism in my heart with the other,

she made me carry buckets full of water,

and washed my body with small stones and scripture,”

I smile and whisper,

“Your ebony heritage has never been so sexy to me,”

Your eyes run away from mine,

You say,

“Mama beat me with a stick like the other boys,

she made me cook sadza and okra every night,

we all ate in one plate,”

I wipe the tears of your face,

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Day 14 of Poetry Challenge



Write a bad poem, making it as lousy as you can, do everything wrong, let yourself be awful.

Pinky pinky ponky

Father had a donkey

Donkey died, father cried

Let’s take a moment to reflect on how this isn’t mine

Structured words, I hate snoopers

Snitches die, world goes ablaze

Poof, we all go down

Rubber-bands can’t hold my socks up

Better off buying ankle socks

But my legs too hot for you to handle

I don’t roll bumble bee no more

Man he is now stopped understanding my simple words

Had to snip, cut, bid relations that make me doubt my language

Just keep following my heart strings.