Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

Paint it, Stitch it.

Enlarge poem

Am tired of living in a society gone torn
Of single women breaking beautiful homes
Young ambitious males poking old holes
Badly stitched egos
Misdirected hormones
Good deeds died
We mourn

What if one day
The sun rose from the west
Would men still thump their chests
To fallen, faded quests
Damsels,
Feed hungry eyes
With bare cleavages, healthy breasts
Run into self made tests
Then claim we were tempted
When life becomes messed?

Our shadows are walking troubles
Talking tatters
Hidden shatters
Silently shouting
Shutting to the furious intensity
Of an internal inferno
Total fracas
Choosing to ignore
The things that most matter
Then after death
Run for a post moterm

We got tired of getting drunk with God’s Word
Sad how man boasts
With his wisdom retard
Gladly glides in the things that glitter
Absurd
While time ends on these aging palms
Heaven yearns for our stitched psalms

The world is full of filthy souls
With walls fervidly faint
We want to walk in brightly coloured hearts
But invest in cheap paints
You can’t fool God
Ask the saints
Repent, world!
Repent!!

We have to rise from these shackles
Desist to partake in demeaning average circles
Fight hard!
Win life’s harshest tussles
Lash out at evil’s harmful hustles
We have to rise!
Rise to drive out sIgns of slumber’s muscles
Paint the world with love castles
Stick our stitches of sound mind
To souls in rubbles

Only then will God
Paint our hearts
And stitch our portions!!
Paint it!
Stitch it!

Eric Otieno

Featured Poem:

Where are the men?!

Enlarge poem

The world circles in squares
Men with visions impaired
Social misfits, who rift
Love hearts into bits
Lift up their egos
Boasting to be cheats
Falling for false things
Beasts swimming in rotten deeds
Evil bids covered neat
God we all need

Where are the men who purpose
Who take offence in the tag bad ass
Bad as their swollen souls may lack colours
Men, who stand for the right matters
Wouldn’t kill
Just to make their bank accounts fatter
Men, who think before they flirt
Weigh before they follow young skimpy skirts
Confess the truth with no buts
Love the women they call sluts
Respect them for who they are
Not salivating for their big butts

Oh, where are the men!

Men, who purpose to chase God
See life beyond their smartphones and i-pods
Men, who will humble before they stumble
Seek the truths of life
Make the world tremble

Men

Where are the men
Who are just men
Meant to relent not to frets
Nor scared of the devil
With his shallow threats
I wonder what would happen
If God took away His breath
He wants His people back
So sad the world has got us all stuck

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (1)
  • Pride (1)
  • Optimism (1)
  • Anger (1)
  • Delight (1)
  • Inspiration (1)
  • Reflection (3)
  • Captivation (1)
  • Peace (1)
  • Amusement (1)
  • Sorrow (1)
  • Vigour (2)
  • Hope (1)
  • Sadness (1)
  • Fear (1)
  • Jubilation (1)

Comments

Your email address will not be published.

Biography

Born in Nairobi, KENYA, in the late 1980s, Eric begun writing at 16 after being expelled from school. His first piece, A Letter To The Grave, was dedicated to his five-month-old sister who had died suddenly. He has not stopped writing and reciting his work ever since, he believes poetry is his destiny.

Eric Otieno

Biography

Born in Nairobi, KENYA, in the late 1980s, Eric begun writing at 16 after being expelled from school. His first piece, A Letter To The Grave, was dedicated to his five-month-old sister who had died suddenly. He has not stopped writing and reciting his work ever since, he believes poetry is his destiny.

Paint it, Stitch it.

Enlarge poem

Am tired of living in a society gone torn
Of single women breaking beautiful homes
Young ambitious males poking old holes
Badly stitched egos
Misdirected hormones
Good deeds died
We mourn

What if one day
The sun rose from the west
Would men still thump their chests
To fallen, faded quests
Damsels,
Feed hungry eyes
With bare cleavages, healthy breasts
Run into self made tests
Then claim we were tempted
When life becomes messed?

Our shadows are walking troubles
Talking tatters
Hidden shatters
Silently shouting
Shutting to the furious intensity
Of an internal inferno
Total fracas
Choosing to ignore
The things that most matter
Then after death
Run for a post moterm

We got tired of getting drunk with God’s Word
Sad how man boasts
With his wisdom retard
Gladly glides in the things that glitter
Absurd
While time ends on these aging palms
Heaven yearns for our stitched psalms

The world is full of filthy souls
With walls fervidly faint
We want to walk in brightly coloured hearts
But invest in cheap paints
You can’t fool God
Ask the saints
Repent, world!
Repent!!

We have to rise from these shackles
Desist to partake in demeaning average circles
Fight hard!
Win life’s harshest tussles
Lash out at evil’s harmful hustles
We have to rise!
Rise to drive out sIgns of slumber’s muscles
Paint the world with love castles
Stick our stitches of sound mind
To souls in rubbles

Only then will God
Paint our hearts
And stitch our portions!!
Paint it!
Stitch it!

Featured Poem:

Where are the men?!

Enlarge poem

The world circles in squares
Men with visions impaired
Social misfits, who rift
Love hearts into bits
Lift up their egos
Boasting to be cheats
Falling for false things
Beasts swimming in rotten deeds
Evil bids covered neat
God we all need

Where are the men who purpose
Who take offence in the tag bad ass
Bad as their swollen souls may lack colours
Men, who stand for the right matters
Wouldn’t kill
Just to make their bank accounts fatter
Men, who think before they flirt
Weigh before they follow young skimpy skirts
Confess the truth with no buts
Love the women they call sluts
Respect them for who they are
Not salivating for their big butts

Oh, where are the men!

Men, who purpose to chase God
See life beyond their smartphones and i-pods
Men, who will humble before they stumble
Seek the truths of life
Make the world tremble

Men

Where are the men
Who are just men
Meant to relent not to frets
Nor scared of the devil
With his shallow threats
I wonder what would happen
If God took away His breath
He wants His people back
So sad the world has got us all stuck

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (1)
  • Pride (1)
  • Optimism (1)
  • Anger (1)
  • Delight (1)
  • Inspiration (1)
  • Reflection (3)
  • Captivation (1)
  • Peace (1)
  • Amusement (1)
  • Sorrow (1)
  • Vigour (2)
  • Hope (1)
  • Sadness (1)
  • Fear (1)
  • Jubilation (1)

Paint it, Stitch it.

Enlarge poem

Am tired of living in a society gone torn
Of single women breaking beautiful homes
Young ambitious males poking old holes
Badly stitched egos
Misdirected hormones
Good deeds died
We mourn

What if one day
The sun rose from the west
Would men still thump their chests
To fallen, faded quests
Damsels,
Feed hungry eyes
With bare cleavages, healthy breasts
Run into self made tests
Then claim we were tempted
When life becomes messed?

Our shadows are walking troubles
Talking tatters
Hidden shatters
Silently shouting
Shutting to the furious intensity
Of an internal inferno
Total fracas
Choosing to ignore
The things that most matter
Then after death
Run for a post moterm

We got tired of getting drunk with God’s Word
Sad how man boasts
With his wisdom retard
Gladly glides in the things that glitter
Absurd
While time ends on these aging palms
Heaven yearns for our stitched psalms

The world is full of filthy souls
With walls fervidly faint
We want to walk in brightly coloured hearts
But invest in cheap paints
You can’t fool God
Ask the saints
Repent, world!
Repent!!

We have to rise from these shackles
Desist to partake in demeaning average circles
Fight hard!
Win life’s harshest tussles
Lash out at evil’s harmful hustles
We have to rise!
Rise to drive out sIgns of slumber’s muscles
Paint the world with love castles
Stick our stitches of sound mind
To souls in rubbles

Only then will God
Paint our hearts
And stitch our portions!!
Paint it!
Stitch it!

Comments

Your email address will not be published.