Tough Love


Photo courtesy of google

She stared at him,

He looked strong and admirable

His eyes glowed as he made the presentation

Even more when they met hers

How could they make the same organization?

She asked, more to herself.

She was deeply in love with him, silent love

Or at least she thought she was

She was the boss! How could she make the rules?

He was her best company, her soft spot!

And he seemed to like it

Conflict of interest popped up on her,

So she became tough

Broke his heart, esteem, and persona

He hated her!

She tried amends, but it was late

For them both!




Dear Dearly

Dear dearly,

I write again

Barely a year down the line

A reaction, my reaction,

To the long stretch of death

Yeah, it’s him I’m talking about,

He that you know,

He who’s loss makes our eyes teary

Our colleague, a friend, family!Rip Fred Asava

Dear Freddy, this was sudden

You shoulder stayed much longer

You know you should have,

As whatever you chose to be.

An acquaintance; or just a passer by

Either way the impact could have been great,

Greater than you gone!

This loss is enormous, and it breaks our hearts

All we have are memories. You, and us

Yet we search over and over again

Hoping to find you!

Somewhere in our midst.

Coz we miss you already and want you back.

Not to mourn but be jolly!

And celebrate the life well lived

Rest easy brother, you’ll be greatly missed


A Fortnight

They say learning is a continuous process. I agree.

The other day there was a heated argument at my workplace on whether we were going to have a meeting ‘once in a fortnight’ or ‘every other week’.  The reason I thought, “why not share this?” was because I always thought a fortnight had a similar meaning to every other day rather than every other week.

I don’t know whether I’ve succeeded in confusing you too. If I have, then we better work on un-confusing you.

A fortnight – a unit of time equal to fourteen days, also a period of two weeks

Every other week – every second week, as in something happens one week, and then it doesn’t happen in another, then it does the next and so on. Also every even week, every odd week

Every other day – every second day

Basically the difference in the meeting happening in a fortnight and every other week is the same.

love, dm

Where Babies Come From


She came from the heavens,

Never born of the womb of her mama,

Dropped by a plane to her parents,

To live, make a career and a life,

She did!

Grew! Made love, and waited,

For a baby to be dropped at her doorstep

She rehearsed, practiced parenting


Until a baby grew in her,

And she… a co-creator!


Sophisticated Woman


Sophisticated they say; whatever that is

Is it in the height of her hills?

…or the style of her steps

The trend in her choice of fashion,

Or the elegance in her dressing

Sophisticated woman! They whisper as she walks by,

They don’t know,

She gets weary from the all-day custom hills,

Gets choked by the stuffiness of her blazer,

And her freedom hidden in the firmness of her bra

Yet they, kula kwa macho…

Admiring Silently,

Afraid of the smile in her radiance,

The penetrating beauty

And the delicacy of her expression!

Sophistication! The price she pays



Unsaid Words

I like to listen, pay attention,

That’s what I do, when I’m with you

And when am not.

To you!

I like it when you talk for hours

Not coz I don’t have an opinion of my own,

But because I think you’re funny

And amazing

And incredible!

I like it when you’re silent too,

That stare, the silent pleas

I hear them all.

Although I’d like it if you shared,

And not keep it in,

Like a man.

I understand you better than anyone

You know I do.

Some people judge,

I never could

Listen… Let me listen to you

That’s what I do best





The Girl in the Mirror

Gallant eyes, Bold, they say

Made up of love and life

And they shine like little emeralds

Covered in the safety of her long eye brows

Then there’s her hair, long, hard,

Braided and held atop of her head

Just like a little African queen

They call it mosodo, nature calls it beauty

And she calls it defense,

Double, double toil and trouble

The root of her strength,

Then that indomitable femininity,

But it suits her well

And she dances to its rhythm

And to the voices in her head



to be continued…


The poet you never was


Remember the person you were back then
Remember those long nights you spent trying to make a sentence constructive,
The careful choice of words trying to make your poems rhyme,
That book you filled with nature stories and hoped someone will read,
Those cartoons you drew as images that reflected who you really are,
That night you covered yourself in paint hoping there was some artistic nature in you,
Those days you walked in the rain hoping you’ll grasp a few ideas,
That dictionary you read over and over again to improve your vocabulary and grammar,
The careless statements you made to see what impact they had,
That puppy you always talked to and they all thought you was crazy,
Those tears you shed when your little ‘kitty’ went missing,

The sleepless nights…

The reflection of who you shoulder been