Touching The Heart Poetry

He read my poems the other day,
From the very first line to the ending fray,
His expression was earnest, his gaze intense,
As he delved into my world, my poetic sense.

With a face that seemed stern, he addressed me so,
A statement, a challenge, more than a question's flow,
"Why do you write?" his words lingered in the air,
A moment suspended; thoughts stripped bare.

I hesitated, a breath caught in my throat,
Eyes cast downward, emotions afloat,
My head lifted slightly, lashes meeting his sight,
A silent response before words took flight.

"Not for a single reason," I began to say,
My voice steady, finding its way,
"It's as if my pen becomes a wound,
A bleeding heart, a silent tune."

"My tongue, a skilled writer's quill,
Inked with emotions that rise and spill,
I write because I am unique, you see,
As unique as each leaf on a boundless tree."

"Yet not just I, for all hold this gift,
A storyteller's spark, a universal shift,
Stories transcend, in whispers and roars,
From the mundane to tales of ancient lores."

A soft smile formed, my lips quivering still,
A vulnerability I couldn't conceal,
"I write because within my soul's fray,
I find the power to shape the things I say."

With a hint of playful nerdy glee,
I re-adjusted my glasses, a part of me,
"I write, yes, with a touch of the dork,
For stories hold magic, like a hidden fork."

"I have a story, unique and grand,
Woven with threads of life's intricate strand,
But I'm not alone in this narrative flight,
For every soul harbors stories of their own light."

"Stories matter, you see, they're bridges between,
Dreams and realities, the seen and the unseen,
Each tale a brushstroke on history's canvas vast,
Weaving a tapestry of present, future, and past."

He nodded, a shared understanding in his eyes,
Stories, our essence, our truth in disguise,
And as we conversed, our words took flight,
For stories, indeed, hold the power to ignite

Najua huna time but…….
Sikiza tu hii stori nikushow
Si mimi ndiye nakwambia,
Profile yake ilijaa mapicha
Ungedhani Nikita naye, basi mapacha
Leo suti, kesho palazzo, usiniulize za jana mi sikumbuki
Kwa comments kila dakika haungekosa
“Unakaaa poa, manze uko tu fiti” si’ wote tulimwambia
Juu enyewe 'atawee ungemuona
I’m sure ungeacha kalike ama comment,

Nakumbuka mara ya mwisho nikimuona
Akinishow kuna deal anangoja iivane
Mi ni nani, nikamwambia” if it’s about money asinisahau”
But kwake kumbe hiyo ilikuwa ndoto
Job alishaloose na ata hakulipwa
Waliomwambia “ukipewa kazi unadeliver”
Maslahi yake hawakujali

Sa’ venye umeniambia you can’t believe hayuko anymore
Nimefeel tu nikwambie “unakaa poa, uko fiti sana”
Lakini uko poa? Like for real are you okay?
Na sitaki jibu la mazoea
Hapa si majibizano ama kutafuta umbea
Na si ati k**a shida ni pesa we usiniambiee
Aah aa, we niambie tu
Na venye uliuliza, yes, ni ukweli
Amecommit su***de mashida alisema ni mengi

Nataka uniahidi
Unapojisikia upweke au mzigo wa uzito wa maisha,
Jua kuwa kuna mikono inayoweza kukusaidia kuvuka maji haya.
Usiogope kuomba msaada au kuzungumza na wengine,

Dear Husband,

I hope you know that your hands aren’t a weapon,
Nor mine a shield to deflect the arrows in your words
That your mind isn’t a battlefield
Or an armory to pull-out destructive weapons at will
And if my eyes were created for anything more than sight,
It's definitely not the ability to conjure up painful tears

Yet again, I wonder, how you manage to raise
That same voice that whispers in my ears at night
The same hands that caress my cheeks
And when you raise the boots I cleaned to hit me
For the third time in a week
I weakly start to question whether love and hate co-exist within you

But...….

In the darkness of despair, a glimmer of light,
A voice within me, urging me to fight.
For I am not defined by another's cruel sway,
I'll break free from this fear, find my own way.

No more shrinking beneath your gaze,
I'll rise above this tormenting haze.
For these hands, not for harm, but to create,
To lift others up, to love, not to hate.

The whispers in the night, I'll defy,
Empower my spirit, spread my wings, and fly.
No longer a captive of your scorn,
I'll embrace my worth, no longer torn.

In the mirror, I'll see strength and grace,
A warrior spirit in my soul's embrace.
No more tears conjured by your cruel art,
For my heart shall mend, and I'll restart.

I'll seek the love that's pure and true,
From those who cherish me, as I do too.
In the face of adversity, I'll stand tall,
Breaking free from your hurtful thrall.

In this journey of self-discovery,
I'll find my voice, and I'll be free.
No longer cowering under your might,
I'll reclaim my power, shine my light.

Dusty book in a corner shelf

We could walk in such places, You and I,
Drive there,
In silence, listening to its eloquence,
Drinking in the view,
Digesting life in its complexities and simplicities,

Many who live there,
See not the beauty of the hills,
Nor the chattering of the birds,
Nor the swift roads where paths meander into streams that empty to rivers,

We could sit quitely under a tree,
We could grieve together of dreams we hoped would be,
Of childhood imaginations and fantasies,

Here, we could learn the art of listening,
More so to anothers silence,
Especially when words aren't enough,
we could dream,
Be real,
Create,
Discuss strengths and weaknesses and aspirations,

We could also live,
Maybe for a day, or a minute,
If i succeed to steal you away
From the schedules and plans
And maybe, by gazing into each others eyes,
We could see how much hurt we still habour inside,
How less could be more when given in proportion to need,
How opening ourselves just a little bit
to those around us,
Means so much more to them.

And just as i keep saying the people who crave love, demand it in the most unloving ways.

You can choose to be a helpless obsever in your own story or be an active participant.

I long to see you again,
Steady, swift, like i have always done,
Will you be there today?
I miss your warmth on my face
as my eyes behold your uncoverted beauty,
Oh, african sunset, where are your golden rays?

Do you find sunsets/star-gazing breathtaking?

Letter Series||Poetry
Hey Son,
I know what is like, to have a watch,
Yet not know how to keep time,
Or watch as day breaks and learn nothing from the passing tides,
They say time and tide wait for no man,
But youth is ignorant to sit under the wisdom of age,
Listen to the eloquence of silence,
And learn from the mistakes of age,
Experience is the best teacher,
But doesn’t have to be yours all the time,

I know what it is like, to chase the bag, or so they say,
And never know where fortunes I take,
For thoughts of clothes and jewelry, I lay awake,
Trends and fashion, son, still I do fancy,
But youth says those are trends of old,
Sit here! old man, I’m learned, I got a plan,
Listen to the eloquence of silence,
And learn from the mistakes of age,
Experience is the best teacher,
But doesn't have to be yours all the time,

I know what it is like, to love and not be loved
To carry anger, bitterness, desperation,
I know the pain of separation,
Yet in years learn to forgive, to set free,
But youth says they wronged me,
I deserve love in a better ration,
You! Stop, yours were the good old days,
And clear as day, they are long gone, Can't you see?
Sit here! Listen to the eloquence of silence,
And learn from the mistakes of age,
Experience is the best teacher they say,
But doesn’t have to be yours all the time,

Gather here,
Sons of my youth,
Listen to my quivering lips,
The real flex is to sit under counsel,
Till you learn to deflect smoke so the soot doesn't settle in your lungs,
To send malice back to its source with understanding and love.


To send malice back to its source with understanding and love.

Inside Out

They are calling,
Catcalling, whistling,
She's full of tension, her attention to her heels, just in case she has to run,

Eyes on her phone,
Messages are flooding her DM,
Drowning her desire to keep a straight face,
A sea of them claiming to have seen her,
The only drop in their ocean, they profess
To have loved her curves and eyes,
Her smile they would walk miles to see,

Seven in the night, they pledge allegiance to the light around her,
They swear, they can see it,
Radiating, like the moon, they can't just look away
They liken her warmth to the heat from the sun,
Enchanting them like a monks mantra to dance to her tune,
She is not even a singer, she says
but they insist her name would look good next to theirs,
And her vocals the sanest noise to put their imaginary babies to sleep,

But she hates the way they see her,
How shallow even with glasses their sight could be,
She wants to refuse their declaration,
To tell them that she's not against them noticing her body
But it is disappointing when it's the only thing a man can see,

She desires to be acknowledged,
Human first,
With unique qualities and characteristics
Inside out,
As a being carrying the complexity, contradiction and the mystery of human life,

She desires to be heard,
As a person,
Out of the stereotypes that surround women of her type,
For to see her,
Is to know her deepest worries, hurts, fears
For she is just too full of life, to be half wanted

I Can't Wait To Start Waiting

Incase you can't remember me,
‬I passed by your favorite place,
In campus,
Where you declared me queen, in your then imaginary palace,
I looked back in time, bought time, reminiscing
Remembering how your words,
Like chords tugged my heartstrings
Cutting like a sword,
Dissolving my resolve,
Breaking all my walls,
Imploring my heart to wait for you,

If only I could wait,
For eight years ,you said,
You would be twenty, then seven, then eight,
But I lost in all that,
I couldn't wait, to start waiting
I have never been one to wait
Always longing for what lay yonder,
Anticipating, when all is conquered, a better day
hoping for better pay,

In primary,
I couldn't wait to grow in height,
Finish class eight,
Add some weight,
Get some good grades,

They always said a lot lay in wait,
to be conquered by the hardworking lot,
I worked hard.

But soon, like noon,
that was past,
I was in high school,
but the tales were different,
This wasn't the ultimate goal, the teachers said
there was campus, or so the tale went
where classes were optional,
And clothes didn't have to be soo traditional
I couldn't wait

I couldn't wait to walk in those pavements,
Choose what to do with my money
Maybe buy a watch,
In order to learn how to keep time
and an attitude too,
to enable me to call someone honey,

Before I realized
that was done,
And the tale continued,
They said campus wasn't the goal
That was now old,
So I learnt to dress to be addressed
For I just couldn't wait to get a job
and corporate meetings to attend

I couldn't wait to finish campus,
to get a job and maybe, a husband
To start a family, maybe
To wear a white gown,
And even after that's done,
I still cant wait to get kids
and see them grow,
I cant wait to watch them start families too

So, when you told me to wait,
I didn't know how,
For I've never relished in the power of now
But always delighted in what lay yonder
Didn't know what to do while I waited,
Didn't know how to live the present,

And even as I write this,
I cant wait to send it to you
To tell you that I cant wait
to learn to start waiting for you

If he falls, I hope he learns to pick himself,
Without the need to pick fights with me,
But if he does,
I hope he wins,
Like genuinely, so genuine that he wont need appreciation for doing what's a mans responsibility,
And I, wont need a third eye to peek at his phone, when no ones looking,
I hope he doesn't see the need to put a password,
Or pass angry words
When kids are watching,

I hope he is safe,
That I wouldn't need the law to protect me from his hands,
And if I must fall or call, then let me fall for him,
Not by him

I hope he talks,
Like real talks,
The kind of talks that make a home,
The type seasoned with salt
I hope he leads,
So clearly that I wouldn't need a map to follow,

I hope he loves suit,
For how much I picture myself ironing

I prayed yesterday, on February 14th..

I prayed for men who are side dudes to their main woman. They were served with missed calls, off phones and out of town excuses and still expected to send a gift. Yes, a gift could reach her but you couldn’t.

I prayed for ladies who are side chics to their main dude. Yesterday was just another day they still did not find out where their man lives.

I prayed for nuns for no reason, non at all.

I prayed for first time love, for those who just discovered how beautiful it is to be able to make someone happy.

I prayed for women who run hardware stores, who don’t know how to love unless they love hard.
They are more than store owners, they are keepers.

I prayed for slam poets, for short poems, for tall poets and for broken poets who still write whole poems.

I prayed for men who don’t know their mother tongue but know how to speak to women with respect.

I prayed for my boys seeking happiness,
I prayed for older dudes, even men who sit in church strategically waiting for the pastor to say ‘look at your neighbour’ so they can start seeing someone.

I prayed for this home country, I prayed for homes in this country.

I prayed for our leaders, even those who want to be praised by the public for praising God in public.
I prayed for them privately.

I prayed for agriculture, down to the grassroots.
I prayed for healthcare, for the health of those I care about.

I prayed for Kenyans in diaspora, and for Kenyans in debt.

I prayed for teachers, for students learning to write, maybe one day they will write off our Chinese debt.

And I remember, just before I said amen,
I prayed for you to buy these February tickets for today.

Then I said Amen.



Tickets Available Via M-Pesa Till 468307

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Touching The Heart Poetry updated their website address.

Love does not break people,
People break people,
Expectations and hurting hearts hurt others,
People apply emergency brakes, ask for breaks in relationships they never intended to drive towards,
Reality is, we all come from somewhere,
Happy homes, broken homes, large homes, small homes,
These homes have shaped us,
Men come from somewhere too,
Some from a place of love, others survival,
Some need patience to demolish the walls around them,
Yet some, a care and a listening ear might restore their honor,
Reality is. Instagram has a way of creating ideal men,
Men dealing with nothing but a daily fitness routine,
A list of trips for the tall, dark and handsome man,
with everything together,
Reality is, men come in all sizes and shapes,
Tall men, built men, short men and more
Reality is, I have seen ordinary men without a television fan a vision to flames
And incase you forget ,reality is, I have seen men heal and start from scratch.

This verse is for the sons of this universe,
The ones who not once put their plans on hold to pay a siblings school fees,
The ones who learnt to plough the lands for a meagre pay while their mates played in the hood,

This is for the sons of the soil,
The sons who had to toil under the sun while their fathers staggered to find the path home,

This is for the sons who survived,
The ones who grew up in toxic homes,
The ones who had to leave for the city seeking to change the narrative,
The ones who were abused by housekeepers in silence,
The ones who had to fit their tiny frames in homes they felt unwelcomed,
The ones who had to step up and take the role of an absent father,

Well,
You must have realized, this verse is not just about sons,
Its about men, it is about the choices that make men,
It is about men who, despite growing up without fathers ,have vowed to father sons our daughters can trust,
It is about men who have suffered heartbreaks in the hands of women, yet they have refused to give up on love, on family,
It is about men who, despite growing in toxic families, have chosen to make their homes a place of love not reason,
Men who have stepped up to become step fathers to sons they didn't sire,
Men who, despite all their imperfections, will teach these sons the true meaning of manhood
This is for all the men, who will never give up

One day you wake up and realize that, you are not a princess your daddy lied to you,
And motivational speakers were not even sure when they told you that you can be anything you put your mind to,
They forgot to tell you that without discipline and consistency, you can only live in mediocrity
That there is joy in small beginnings,
That it is okay not to have a clear idea of what the future holds
That success wont always be linear, often its an undefined curve

I am tired of people telling me what to write.

I am tired of all the wrongs my pen cannot right.

If music is a feeling, then I'm tired of songs that don't even feel right.

I am tired of how common chapati has become.

I am tired of how quick gum loses the sugar when you start chewing.

I am tired of the state of public transport.

I am tired of walking on roads without sidewalks,
How does a country make steps if it literally doesn’t care about where the people step.

I am tired of the state of agriculture,
It no longer has flesh, farmers are just bone picking.

I am tired of what higher learning has become.
It used to be the midwife that helped give birth to problem solvers,
It used to mean mastering the skills to contribute better at work,
But these days people just pursue masters to alter their salaries to a degree and that’s it.

I am tired of how selfish we have become.

I am tired of how many followers politicians who project lies and abuse of office have.
For all the likes they get, it is hard to convince them they are not the leaders we like.

I am tired of corrupt leaders winning elections,
I am tired of helicopters during elections,
I am tired of the same madness in every election.

I am tired of us waiting for our leaders to change when we haven’t changed.

I am tired of seeing the dignity of people living in slums not matter.

If we continue to feed inequality, then we are not raising a country, we are raising extremes.
That’s a red flag.. no green, no black, no white.



My poetry book- Raising A Sun- is available by delivery. Order through [email protected]

I hope you get rich one day.
I hope one day love will love you back.
I hope the color of the walls in your house will give you peace.
I hope you will never have to break your back doing things you don’t stand for.
I hope there’s no room for your ego to live in your head.
I hope the ones you can call family is clear to you because every now and then everything in life is blurred.
I hope you find someone you can call your sister, someone you can call your brother, and someone you can call in the middle of the night.
I hope your mirror is not where you empty your dreams, or judge yourself.
I hope you learn to love yourself, and for your sake I hope you love hard.
I hope you find flowers in your heart, and leaves that fall to decorate the feet of your soul.
I hope you end up in a circle where you don’t have to prove your worth, we are built different so friendship doesn’t have to be a square.
I hope one day your country will feed your fight.
I hope you will never stop fighting for your country to be that garden that’s perfect for everyone to grow.
I hope dignity is not something you will want for yourself only.