Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

Coke and Roaches

Enlarge poem

I’ve been living alone a while now.
I have changed; I have become crude…
wait… I’m cruder…
Ah you get what I’m getting at!
My crude index is up!
Get this;
I drink soda straight out of the bottle.
I buy it,flip the cap open and get to gulping
Sometimes a few paces from the supermarket.
The shame!
But then again I’ve got no cups to drink from
Thus I’ve been forced into this unladylike horror.
Before, it was not until the soda was at least two thirds down that I drank from the bottle.
I had standards!
As if that’s not enough, I stomp on cockroaches.
Yes, with such finesse and skill
Lightly enough not to squash it but hard enough to stun it
Then I flick it through the gap under the door
Into the corridor
It’s the cleaning lady’s problem now.
Oh you will love this, or not;
I sometimes stomp on afore mentioned critters barefoot!
Depending of course on the stomp-time window and how much soda is in me. You would too
I could swear they are the Madagascar hissing ones
And my newly acquired crudeness allows me to admit
They scare the crap out of me that’s what they do.
Will I admit this to anyone face to face?
Heck no!
And with a straight face too.
For all you know I’m making it all up.

Nduta Kariuki

Featured Poem:

Graves

Enlarge poem

I Have Dug Graves Before.
On Some Days, One , Two, Even More.
Most Days, In The Afternoons
I’d Put My Nephew To Sleep, Then Get To It.
Couldn’t Bring Him Along
Then He’d Start Touching And Poking And Mimicking…
A Distraction
Some Days
He’d Refuse To Take His Nap
That Meant Putting Off The Digging And Burying
I Would Get Relieved,
For A Fleeting Second At Least, But I Knew.
The More I Wait
The Bigger The Pile Grows
The Bigger The Pile ,the Heavier The Load
The Heavier The Load, the Longer The Trek Uphill
The Longer The Trek Uphill
The Longer Those Milky Unseeing Eyes Stare At Me…
And The Stench!
I Could Throw Them Out, Leave It To The Dogs…
Thought About It A While Too.
Digging Their Graves And Burying Them Is The Least I Can Do For Them
They Were Under My Care…
And They Died.

nduta

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (3)
  • Pride (2)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (1)
  • Delight (0)
  • Inspiration (1)
  • Reflection (2)
  • Captivation (5)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (1)
  • Vigour (1)
  • Hope (1)
  • Sadness (3)
  • Fear (1)
  • Jubilation (1)

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Biography

Nduta Kariuki is an artist working and studying in Nairobi, Kenya. She paints primarily, in a personal style that is derived from pop art, but dabbles extensively and has working knowledge of most art forms.

Nduta is currently a fourth year Fine Arts student at Kenyatta University. She is a freelance artist and has worked with Samsung and various high schools for the annual Music and Drama festivals. She enjoys writing, as it allows her to express her quirky sense of humor, and has performed at the Slam Africa, Word Up Live, St. Andrew’s Eve of Poetry and Wamathai events.

Her work has been shown in the following venues: The Michael Joseph Centre, Kenya Railways Museum Gallery, the National Museum, Paa ya Paa Gallery, The Kenyatta University’s Culture and Career weeks, International School of Kenya.

Nduta Kariuki

nduta
nduta

Biography

Nduta Kariuki is an artist working and studying in Nairobi, Kenya. She paints primarily, in a personal style that is derived from pop art, but dabbles extensively and has working knowledge of most art forms.

Nduta is currently a fourth year Fine Arts student at Kenyatta University. She is a freelance artist and has worked with Samsung and various high schools for the annual Music and Drama festivals. She enjoys writing, as it allows her to express her quirky sense of humor, and has performed at the Slam Africa, Word Up Live, St. Andrew’s Eve of Poetry and Wamathai events.

Her work has been shown in the following venues: The Michael Joseph Centre, Kenya Railways Museum Gallery, the National Museum, Paa ya Paa Gallery, The Kenyatta University’s Culture and Career weeks, International School of Kenya.

Coke and Roaches

Enlarge poem

I’ve been living alone a while now.
I have changed; I have become crude…
wait… I’m cruder…
Ah you get what I’m getting at!
My crude index is up!
Get this;
I drink soda straight out of the bottle.
I buy it,flip the cap open and get to gulping
Sometimes a few paces from the supermarket.
The shame!
But then again I’ve got no cups to drink from
Thus I’ve been forced into this unladylike horror.
Before, it was not until the soda was at least two thirds down that I drank from the bottle.
I had standards!
As if that’s not enough, I stomp on cockroaches.
Yes, with such finesse and skill
Lightly enough not to squash it but hard enough to stun it
Then I flick it through the gap under the door
Into the corridor
It’s the cleaning lady’s problem now.
Oh you will love this, or not;
I sometimes stomp on afore mentioned critters barefoot!
Depending of course on the stomp-time window and how much soda is in me. You would too
I could swear they are the Madagascar hissing ones
And my newly acquired crudeness allows me to admit
They scare the crap out of me that’s what they do.
Will I admit this to anyone face to face?
Heck no!
And with a straight face too.
For all you know I’m making it all up.

Featured Poem:

Graves

Enlarge poem

I Have Dug Graves Before.
On Some Days, One , Two, Even More.
Most Days, In The Afternoons
I’d Put My Nephew To Sleep, Then Get To It.
Couldn’t Bring Him Along
Then He’d Start Touching And Poking And Mimicking…
A Distraction
Some Days
He’d Refuse To Take His Nap
That Meant Putting Off The Digging And Burying
I Would Get Relieved,
For A Fleeting Second At Least, But I Knew.
The More I Wait
The Bigger The Pile Grows
The Bigger The Pile ,the Heavier The Load
The Heavier The Load, the Longer The Trek Uphill
The Longer The Trek Uphill
The Longer Those Milky Unseeing Eyes Stare At Me…
And The Stench!
I Could Throw Them Out, Leave It To The Dogs…
Thought About It A While Too.
Digging Their Graves And Burying Them Is The Least I Can Do For Them
They Were Under My Care…
And They Died.

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (3)
  • Pride (2)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (1)
  • Delight (0)
  • Inspiration (1)
  • Reflection (2)
  • Captivation (5)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (1)
  • Vigour (1)
  • Hope (1)
  • Sadness (3)
  • Fear (1)
  • Jubilation (1)

Coke and Roaches

Enlarge poem

I’ve been living alone a while now.
I have changed; I have become crude…
wait… I’m cruder…
Ah you get what I’m getting at!
My crude index is up!
Get this;
I drink soda straight out of the bottle.
I buy it,flip the cap open and get to gulping
Sometimes a few paces from the supermarket.
The shame!
But then again I’ve got no cups to drink from
Thus I’ve been forced into this unladylike horror.
Before, it was not until the soda was at least two thirds down that I drank from the bottle.
I had standards!
As if that’s not enough, I stomp on cockroaches.
Yes, with such finesse and skill
Lightly enough not to squash it but hard enough to stun it
Then I flick it through the gap under the door
Into the corridor
It’s the cleaning lady’s problem now.
Oh you will love this, or not;
I sometimes stomp on afore mentioned critters barefoot!
Depending of course on the stomp-time window and how much soda is in me. You would too
I could swear they are the Madagascar hissing ones
And my newly acquired crudeness allows me to admit
They scare the crap out of me that’s what they do.
Will I admit this to anyone face to face?
Heck no!
And with a straight face too.
For all you know I’m making it all up.

Comments

Your email address will not be published.