Philosopher's Pen

It all depends on the day Today he woke up feeling happy and alive Another he goes to bed thanking that it is done and wonders if he would still wish to wake up But life is life Somehow he wakes up no matter what he wakes up to Sometimes he wakes up feeling lost Other times he wakes up feeling alive Whichever day he wakes up in He looks up to tomorrow Tomorrow is a beautiful as that expensive gift he desires but is kept as a promise by father time He hopes it will be free of his pain and sorrow but filled with perfect joy So he sleeps and wakes up still dreaming of a brighter tomorrow Though there is an iota of possibility that it is utopia Still it feels better to hope He looks at tomorrow as a magic mirror upon which he sees his perfect self His sees today as the road to his perfect day so he starts walking in the right direction He has to make little effort to move to the direction where his better version lives He wants to see the pe...

I love the way she smiles It slits on her face like a perfect dawn She has a gentle heart as a dove She is not perfect She is fatter than I would desire Softer than my taste Too submissive yet I have always longed for a tigress She is not perfect for sure       She leaves in me this masculine desire to find her beast But her hard working hands Her gentle soul Her comforting words Her sweet womanly demeanour Makes the sacrifice worth its taste So I fall in love with her imperfect She has not everything to my liking But she will be mother to King She will fill in my gaps and I will cover her faults Deep in me I can see it She has the key to my perfect Because she is ready to bear my imperfect

My love for you has no color Has no shape and it is elusive to describe its texture It is more fluid than any liquid or gas, it can fit into container of any shape and size So you can keep it however you want My love is precious and scare                                                             Thanks to God I am the only one that can give it or keep it Though it is too precious to be kept hidden inside of me so I put in on your lap I give it to you to keep, to use but never to abuse I put it on your lap to pet it and adore it Show the world that you own the best And certainly all that is left is the rest I give you this love without reserves that you can use it ...

Blue butterfly Even if you were a brown bee you would still be beautiful As beautiful a sunrise or the ember golden sunset As lovely as the lake breeze sweeping my beloved’s skin Wafting the fragrance of her perfume into my nostrils When we sit on the bare rocks at the shores of Lolwe Not minding their hardness against our bottoms Just enjoying the seeping warmth rising and sinking into our flesh Like the passion growing in my pulse that can evidently be seen and touch by my butterfly In the sight of the envious hippopotamus sinking every five minutes finding us on the same spot Mindless of time in childish simple love Butterfly Even if you were a bee You would still inspire me to live a love for love’s sake I would still love your color Your shape and the way you dart in the wind You would still be special if you give honey just as you inspire art When you sting, I guess I would fear the same way I fear the itch of caterpillar’s fur Butterfly ...

We will see to the settling of the dust First let us dance and see how high they can rise. Let us dance to the political songs our singers sing,  Let us close our eyes to the truth but open them to the dance. When they hurt, let us not complain We decided the tempo of the music and the pace of the dance. Let us dance till we are too tired to dance. Let us dance till we are sober. Some of us will faint some will die out of exhaustion and other causes First let us dance.

Corridors of power are narrow Yet many like to walk through them It is barely possible to walk without stepping on toes So you see friends becoming foes And as soon as a former enemy anoints the hurt with an ointment Massaging an inflamed ego Former animosity goes A new friendship thrives That way there is no permanent friendship or enmity in that corridor Just people thriving between hurt and pleasures of fond yet treacherous massages The massages that can be used to exert uncalled for pressure if only its pain is sure to be mortal In the corridors of power Friends and enemies look alike The only person you can trust is nobody Not even yourself For you are not sure the steps you will make tomorrow Who you will appease or who you will hurt As you steadily walk up the corridors of power PAGES FOR POETS Other  websites you would like to visit to enjoy good poetry. Poetry: The Sleek TV Namatsi - Hisia Ni Zangu

History of man is history of love Love that inspires peace just as it sires wars Love that seeks to be sought Lave between a man and woman that bears kings History of man is never written It is forged in the fires of deceit and subtle conversations Serenades and songs that are never published In promises made in the bed chambers And misplaced words that slip because of stupor Promises to be kept Even if it is at the cost of John's head on the platter History of man is hardly written We only read the aftermath of resolutions made in solitude

I wish to walk the earth and leave a mark I wish to sing songs whose echo will enchant the eternity I want to live long enough to burn brighter than the sun For my breath was named after thunder fire and life I want to live long enough to love you Touch you in in ways no human words or hands have Mould you to be as beautiful as a beauty can be I want to live long enough to see where the winds come from and the oceans they settle in I want to dance the dance of the living When it is done there should be no dance left within me I want to dance to every bit of every beat With every bit of every bone So when the song of the living done for me I won’t miss a replay I want to dance the dance like no other human I want all that till there is nothing left

The hooligan has the gun He is smartly dressed in his office endorsing another oppressive law The hooligan has the gun People are demonstrating on the streets to have the basic food prices dropped but he is smiling all the way to the bank   The hooligan has the gun He is pointing his finger to his associate for having drug money But three of his fingers are pointing back at him The hooligan has the gun He appears to have raised lowest wages But indeed he has raised tax revenue The hooligan has the gun His people want a fair and genuine democracy   The question is, is he ready for it The hooligan has the gun Ask any African chief what a hooligan with a gun can do

I like the word yes especially when it is followed by an exclamation mark It makes me feel like I am about to express an infallible truth So I will begin this with it Yes! I have written love poems That have fermented waters to be sweeter wine than the one in Canna of Galilee I have concocted tales which have poisoned the minds of lovers and left them looking at the moonless night like senseless cabbages I have written about the touch of a woman and the entry of a man I have written about the modern Eden and how people pride in picking fruits of their choice without fear of a supernatural visitor I have written But nothing yet feels like the truth about love of a man to a woman This confusing feeling that naturally made Adam fail the first test set for human race Let me remember well God asked Adam where are you The He answered, "I am naked" What have you done? "This woman you gave me" I am not sure if he answered the second question right But...

Where there is love Even just a small grain of love There is God All powerful God

He opened his gaping heart All the wounds of hurt young and old glaringly stared Maliciously festering, sipping vitality softly and unnoticed His whole being feeling septic and pigmented People called him yellow  because of emotional jaundice No one knew he was in pain Self-inflicted some inflicted by others He feared no one could understand, n ot even his mother,  They believed he was born coy and meek He wished he could unleash his fire but he felt powerless, helpless and hopeless  So he kept it to himself even though life was oozing out of him fast Kept it all in the closet of silence wrapped in the cloak of darkness that he seemingly held dear Believing the cloth kept he safe once all life was out of him  Finally, he secured it behind a seal of broad smile Yes! He was sick He knew it but he did not want to be called mad For sick he surely was but mad he was not He knew he could be cured  Without cure was the after math of the cure ...

I am passing like every other element of air But like wind Humanity will remain Everything that matters may not matter after Though they will be seen in the after ripples of my choices Even if I had a million children in my name Only one life I would live And only by that life will my judgment come in this life and after It is my wish that I be the first by heaven’s door But in this life A name that can give hope to my folk would suffice So my life I live for a legacy A name for tomorrow Hope in a heaven not yet seen

If you sing songs And your songs are sung Would they have a meaning? If you danced And your dances are danced Would they have a meaning? If you lived well And your life is lived Would it have a meaning? Would it have a meaning if it goes with the wind? Would it have a meaning if your marks on earth were erased? Would it have a meaning if you were not remembered?

The future isn’t yet it is It is all we have Without it there is no sense

I know what it means to suffer in silence I know how it feels important to keep your suffering to your self Not wanting to share what you feel inside And so you start to smile because the whole world is smiling Not wanting the world to know something is wrong with you Because that is what you feel I know how it feels not to feel understood Feeling like you are standing alone without shelter in a cold windy day I know the feeling of wanting to move far away To start life a fresh Cut off all the past I know how scary that can be too I know that you need to talk How important it can be for you Most importantly I understand your pain

You are the one I think of when I am blank When I am happy you are the one I call I think of you when I am sad I pour it all on you And I feel it is all right I call you when I reach a problem's dead end Together we find a way to move to the other side of the wall With you I feel like the lake Galilee When Jesus was calming the storm You are my rain maker You make me feel hope You are the cloud that causes my worst storms When I know that I am the reason you are shedding tears I feel so comfortable beside you I can sing off key But it is all right because I wont be judged I can talk and talk Be sure that I will be heard I can keep the quiet of a grave And not be scared that it will be heard wrong Yes I can be headstrong Then we will fight and make peace I can be fearful when you are scared And we will curdle together I can hope when you have lost hope And you can hope when I have lost mine For that is how we become better You are beautiful to my eyes and ...

Mama From where did you get your heart When I look at your eyes I see the love of God When I feel your breath I feel the breath of God Mama From where do you get your smile That when I accidentally hear the sound of your cry You turn to me and all I see is your lovely smile Mama From where did you get your backbone That never got tired of carrying me But still supported a water pot on your head Mama From where did you get your patience That watched and waited for me to grow Patiently weeding out my mistakes of puberty Forgiving me like they never were Showering me with love even when I felt least deserving Mama you are a lesson from God

May be it was love I am sure it was not lust Maybe it was this madness that pushes men The love and want for things out of reach I wanted her with all in me It seemed like she loved the play Watching me weaken for her Watching me want her I knew this but never wanted to stop I wanted her more and more More and more she had her fun I wanted her not for pleasure Not fame Not for glory I wanted a friend of her Someone I could trust A friend I could be weak before without fear Someone who allowed me to be human And not terrified to be one But she wanted a man Someone who could stand above like a cloud on a hot day Who could rain on her storms and thunder when they disagreed Someone who could subdue her Make a humble That is what she wanted But that is all I never desired of me Neither did I wish it for her I wanted to be honest Guided by the truth Truth sweet And truth that hurts Only truth I could trust Not some weak girl ...

I understand why the face of the sky is blank and blue Glaring at the world of men Watching a thin thread of wisdom trying to hold the fabric that is mostly foolishness Studying without stopping the consequences of choices   How humility raises men And how pride crushes them down Grinding them as fine dust before being swept like chaff in the wind Scattering the small pieces of brokenness to the air Leaving desperate men holding to hope when there is no hope Wisemen living blindly h oping to see For with wisdom a wareness of blindness is a deep sight You can read more philosophy i nside poetry in this book and other work by Antanabell Sol.

Time for peace has come It is time to consider diplomatic approach to all matters I have to sit down with my own mind and heart To talk about what is good for my self Time for peace has come A time I have to search for the true enemies of me everywhere Even where the enemy is likely to be me I have to sit down with them and sort their grumbling A time has come for peace I have to look for every matter that inspires inward strife, give it up even if it will cost me pleasure    and let it go For peace is sweeter than all pleasures of life A time for peace has come A time to subdue self and look for things of greater meaning A time for peace has come And I will accept nothing but peace

For a time I desired to lead the pack  But not after I knew the burden Not after I learned that I had to stop living for myself And start living for a vision A vision that possibly only I  saw With my eyes open or closed A vision that made leadership  scary  One clear picture of a chain binding to the prison of a possible better future Built on lashes of bitter sacrifices Pillared by giving away the possibility of pleasure today for the hope of tomorrow Hope was the thin thread to hold on to In the abyss of power An endless pit hidden beneath a thin membrane of grandiosity and glamour And a dream for a people with many faces Faces of friendish fiends looking like starving wolves and marauding vampires The only gift that kept me human and skeptical of my place It was a time for me to die for the birth of the slfless I  Who could live for a people, some  of who wished to lynch me for a little taste of power Which they believed wa...

When I was a child I was told that blood is thicker than water In short, I was to stick closer to blood And be careful of the water But the same people taught me That water is life That I am made of seventy five percent water And without water I would die As I grew older I realize that blood cannot survive without water Only in their unity There is continuity of flow So it explains the existence of my father and mother Who bore me; their blood But were definitely to each other water I also realized that there was plenty of water before there was any blood I do not question the wisdom taught me by men of old But I add to the stock of knowledge they have piled That the thickness of blood would be toxic without water That water was before blood That water makes 75% of the earth and can be found everywhere Water can wash away blood till it is not seen But blood cannot wash away water And that the only hope for the human race Is mixing freely...