Writer’s Poem Wednesday: Kailee Venzin

Writer’s Poem Wednesday: Kailee Venzin

IMG_8590

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of reading the words of a fellow blogger, Kailee Venzin. It struck a chord with me. And today, I have the pleasure of sharing it with all of you, for my writer’s poem Wednesday.

Yes, I know, I should have posted a contemporary poem but this really, is a great one. I hope you enjoy. Do check out her blog for more poems at: https://innervoicewriting.wordpress.com/

I have seen the world gone mad by Kailee Venzin

I have seen the world gone mad,
seen women bolstered by deep aches
and sly “handshakes”, burning
flags and setting the world on fire.

But I feel lost,
swallowed by a fever.
I drift as if someone took a bite out of me
and spit me out into the world.
I want to stop living in fear of losing another part of myself.

I want to be a lighthouse in the city,
call all my sisters home.
I want to pull the lost ones in,
be the blanket around their trembling bodies.
I want to feel the rebound of heat
of my breath on their necks, whisper-
It’s okay to be broken.
We’re beautiful broken.

I want to be a pussy willow,
that furry young catkin
whispering on her skin.
Soothe her like
that softness did for me as a child.
I want to shout-
You don’t have to wear hard soled shoes
to walk over the rocks.
You can wait til your feet have calloused.
You can wait til your shoulders are strong enough
to hold your body upside down.
I want to take every broken child,
their butter skin between my sidewalk hands
and say-
Don’t you dare lose that
wild wonder in your eyes.
Don’t you dare forget
that strength in your pelvis,
the fervor that carried you home.
You can be broken,
Oh, so broken,
And still be strong.

Advertisements
For my sisters:

For my sisters:

IMG_8516.JPG

110 of my sisters were taken today.
No yesterday… no,
It’s been a week now.
I’m losing my mind?
Just like the government who claimed:
No, they weren’t taken.
No, they’ve been rescued.
Ohh we’re sorry.. yes they’ve been taken.

110 families,
Under the watch of their leaders,
Awakened to the news their daughters,
Have been taken from their schools.
And the leaders stay sheltered,
In their villas and mansions.
110 of my sisters are gone,
And their leaders are radio silent.

The mothers at weeping,
The fathers are grieving,
My sisters have been taken by men,
Known to show no mercy.

110 of my sisters were taken from school,
To the leaders, I say this: 
It could have been your daughters too. 


MINI RANT: 110 girls were kidnapped the past week from their school. All that these girls and their families wanted, was an education, and now they’ve been taken. At first, the authorities denied that the girls had been taken before eventually admitting it.

A few years back, over 200 girls were kidnapped from their schools and we are yet to rescue over a 100 of them. This doesnt give us much solace regarding the girls taken now. There’s a saying: Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. It is a shame that we, as a country allowed this to happen again. All these girls (Dapchi Girls) wanted was an education, I pray we get them back safe and sound….. Its been 9days!!!! 

Nothing prepares you…

Nothing prepares you…

IMG_8238.JPG

Nothing prepares you for that knock on the door, that one thing which throws your world into a whirl storm.

There is no set manual which details- preparation for loss.
But, it doesn’t come as a shock either.

You’ve felt flutterings in your heart all morning, not the pleasant kind.
Your hand trembles as you lift the coffee cup to your lips.

You feel some type of way but you don’t know why…
soon enough- you do.

There’s a banging on the door. A body is framed in the doorway.
Your heart skips a beat, lips quiver,
no word is said but a silent motherly message passes across- from her to you.

She barges into the house, turns on the TV set. Her legs give way.
She collapses onto the couch.

You crash beside her, hands intertwined in each other’s. Holding onto the only thing you’ve got- hope.

A voice on the TV utters, “school under siege”.
All you hear: “our baby boys are under siege”.

Nothing prepares you for that knock on the door. When your world as you know it- is thrown into a storm.

Writer’s quote: Mother’s love

Writer’s quote: Mother’s love

IMG_7759.JPG

Who sat and watched my infant head
When sleeping on my cradle bed…

Do the above lines sound familiar? Most of us grew up reciting them. I cant remember exactly who taught me the poem, or where I was taught. Was it in school? At home? By my classmates? All I can remember is knowing the poem.

This famous poem was actually written by Ann Taylor in the 18/19th century. It was written at a time when maternal and child care was poor, and a lot of mothers would watch their children get ill and die from illnesses.

This poem reminds me of Love. I hope it takes you down memory lane…

My mother by Ann Taylor

Who sat and watched my infant head
When sleeping on my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My Mother.

When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gazed upon my heavy eye,
And wept for fear that I should die?
My Mother.

Who taught my infant lips to pray
And love God’s holy book and day,
And walk in wisdom’s pleasant way?
My Mother.

And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who wast so very kind to me,
My Mother?

Ah, no! the thought I cannot bear,
And if God please my life to spare
I hope I shall reward they care,
My Mother.

When thou art feeble, old and grey,
My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pains away,
My Mother.

The beautiful image above is gotten from: http://www.bestsayingsquotes.com/quote/who-ran-to-help-me-when-i-fell-and-would-some-pretty-story-2003.html

We good-

We good-

IMG_7584

I washed myself since I was four,
Since mama was hidden,
Under crumbling stones
But don’t worry about us…
I lifted my brother,
Fed him,
Washed him,
Loved him…
But don’t worry about us.

The skies rained down on us:
Day after day
After day..
Blood dripped down his knees,
But don’t worry about us…
I cleaned his wounds,
Bathed it,
Wrapped it,
Kissed it..
But don’t worry about us.

The grounds are white, our
Bones they shiver
I grab my brother,
Rub him,
Wrap him,
Warm him
But don’t worry about us…
The moon is out,
Will we see morning?’
Maybe-
But don’t worry about us.
You never did…

The above image is gotten from: http://thechronicleherald.ca/world/336329-cold-comfort-in-kabul

Lets talk-

Lets talk-

IMG_5964.JPG

Lets talk about the little girl,
On her way back from school,
Whose stars were grasped
from the future and squashed;
Whose fire was doused without
Reaching its peak;
Whose spotlight was dimmed,
Whilst her stage was just being
Built…

Lets talk about how poets
Have a duty to uphold;
To speak out for the young one
Whose future was stolen,
A bundle of innocence:
Robbed by those who know better,
Robbed by those who are part of us
A society to be held accountable.

Lets talk about the future,
In the words that we string along,
How to make a haven where,
Children can walk;
For the streets are made up
Of mere stone and rock,
Its we (humans) who make it,
Unsafe for all.
lets try to do better.
Lets try to be better…

Somewhere in Africa

Somewhere in Africa

IMG_5516.JPG

Somewhere in Africa,
A dark skinned child
Lay on clay soil, laughing away
The earth’s worries.
His mother, braiding cornrows
On his sister’s 4C hair,
Discussing the business
Of the neighbour’s daughter,
Who is conveniently
Absent from their midst.

A man, assembles his
Remote tools into a barrow:
Hoe, spade, cutlass.
The ridges are made,
Seeds sown,
He stares at his empty land,
Nothing’s growing.
The sun is out,
The cloud’s at bay,
A prayer escapes from his lips,
Lord, please let there be rain.

They have food for their stomachs
Only for a meal,
A day.

A man steps upon clay soil,
To the sound of a child’s laughter:
Water glistens upon his skin,
His stomach churns;
But two hands are outstretched
Towards him.
He smiles:
Picking up the laughing reason
Why everything is all worth it.

The above image is courtesy of British Ecological Society

Day 12: in memory of Him

Day 12: in memory of Him

IMG_4668.JPG

The last page is turned,
The book is closed,
The sun has sunk back;
And darkness envelopes.
The moon is on a leave,
The trees,
sing a mournful hymn:
Off tune,
Off beat,
Like the world within your head.

His footprints has vanished,
With the melting of snow;
His scent still lingers,
In every corner,
Of your home.
His laughter,
His baby laughter,
And his cries mingle as one:
The sound of an angel,
Resting in a peaceful abode.

The last page is turned,
The book has closed,
Leaving behind lessons,
Memories and hurt.
His departure,
Signals an ending;
But oh the gems
He imparted-
What it feels,
To love and be loved
In return.

IMG_2937

I really enjoyed doing the december poetry challenge last year. Plus, I found this really inspiring prompt called “30 layers, 30 days” which many bloggers have completed now. So, I decided to use the prompts for December.
prompt: ending with a beginning

 

Flash Fiction: Siblings Day Out

Flash Fiction: Siblings Day Out

IMG_4186

Sheila felt a slight tug at her sleeves, which she purposely ignored. She was on babysitting duty which meant, taking her four siblings out, ranging between the ages of 4 and ten, for no pay whatsoever. Ohh, the drawbacks of being the older child.

The tug pulling reached an uncomfortable point, and considering “the stare” also didn’t dissuade the sleeve puller, Sheila bent down and whispered a fierce “what?
Dawn whispered back, “can we sneak it home please?”

Sheila looked through the glass in front of her. Each one housed a crocodile, a chameleon, a porcupine and the best of all, something which looked like a really huge praying mantis residing on purple coloured limestones.

Sheila glared at Dawn, “you mean the purple stones right?”
Dawn smiled a little too sweetly, “But of course sis. What did you think I meant. The Mantis?”


Word count:142. The above story is in reaponse to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge hosted bu Priceless Joy. Thank you very much for this week’s picture @Any1mark66

Flash Fiction: Evil Genius

Flash Fiction: Evil Genius

IMG_3458.JPG

Randy was the new kid in class, so he didn’t get to see Bradshaw hills with us during last term’s excursion. For this term’s, we had formulated a plan to trick him. Bradshaw hills was unique for its cave markings. The class as a whole decided to pretend we couldn’t see the markings on the cave, to make Randy think he’s going nuts when he points at them.

It was funny when we planned it. What began as a joke ended up with Randy screaming his head off and throwing a tantrum to the teacher, declaring that he was losing it. It resulted in his parents being called to take him home and “we” all scared and getting a week of punishment.

That night, I got a call from Randy, thanking me for getting him 2 days off school to rest. Turns out, he had been to Bradshaw hills before and knew of its markings. He only played along because he could use it to his advantage.

Oh the little evil genius.


Word count:171. The above story is jn response to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge. Thank you @Any1Mark66 for this week’s picture.