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Letters for my Mother

"Letters for my Mother" is a collection of thoughts, emotions, and socioeconomic factors that have hindered my mother and me until her passing in 2007. At that time, I was away from home, moving from place to place, bunking on my sister's house one year and moving on to the other like clockwork. It was traumatic for me since I grew up knowing that I come from a large family of twelve and now living with different people all together or sometimes coming home to find my big sister hasn't arrived from work, so it was books and TV to keep me company. Most of the time, they were trying times as distance kept my two brothers and me from bonding fully. I am glad that I found an outlet for my part where everything seems to be going and coming. What was constantly being right was I thank them fully for taking me to high school, where I found my calling. Art, for me, was a constant where everything is a variable. I never knew I was artistically gifted in all areas of art. I found myself doing drama and musical at form one barely one month into the school. Next year, I found myself in Environment and Science Congress. I had hoped initially that I would blossom to be a scientist. There was this character, Dexter's lab, where he was a boy genius living in a suburban home and having a secret lab in the basement; it was an eye-opening factor for me, and I had to exercise to the fullest. Form three and four were full of music and festival of arts; that was where I grew my art to visual, and poetry came to me as a second language. You probably have figured out that school for me was not for learning, rather for making friends and trying my foot in various forms of art. After high school and pre-youth and college year (I studied computer graphic design for three months, and I dropped out for one reason I will share in my latter works), I found my calling in theatre and performing arts. I loved being on stage, acting, and bringing characters to life with costumes and lights. Telling narratives to the audience and watching them move with awe and splendor. Some hated me from curtain raise to curtain call, booing me for being the antagonist, and applauded wildly when I played the hero. After a while, I felt sick and stagnant for doing the same thing and staging in the same theatre. I saw different cultures and people around Kenya, my country, and settled for drawing and writing poetry and books. To be honest, I was a bit skeptical about my works and would write and draw sketches, and if they don't work out, I would tear them out and flush them. I know I was my worst critic, but I had my first break at 2017 under Storymoja and mentorship of Muthoni Garland, Samira Mathews, and Monity Odera. I published a children's book, "Monsters Who Disobeyed," translated to Swahili, also known as "Malipo ya Ukaidi." It was a milestone for me. I really appreciate my efforts, and three years later, I compiled this book for myself and also the whole world as a reminder that you can be yourself and be the greatest version; you just have to believe. My shortcoming is that my mother, may her soul rest in peace, would be proud of the young man I have become, being that I have never had the chance to show her how talented I am. To all the dreamers and the creatives out there, I would like to give a nugget of wisdom to all that the first step is the hardest, but you will get there eventually. After a while, I must say I am well-versed with various art forms, and I speak the language fluently. As a reader and a fan of my work, I must acknowledge that it is a pleasure giving you access to my world, and I hope to share a room in your library as a favorite.

ODUOR_ISADIAH · Urbano
Classificações insuficientes
51 Chs

HEART

I remember,

yesterday,

it did unfold,

She lay beside me,

manner reassuring,

Stimulating both body and the soul,

My mind took screenshots of your beauty, alluring.

I asked,

"Could we let loose?"

without delay,

A gaze in aphrodisiac manner,

bold,

She answered with a touch,

our hands at play,

A union sweet as chocolate and the rose's gold.

Royalty's scent in silence on her skin,

I'd sip her soul if she'd allow me through, Cherry blossom lips on mine,

pressed in,

Science can't explain this love that's true.

A clever distraction,

dignity set aside,

She looked a mess,

a work of art's embrace,

A Picasso,

Michelangelo's pride,

Or Cachinoh's style,

a stunning grace.

In a universe where numbers,

colors blend,

Where words rebel in three-dimensional space,

Where light on every puzzle piece does send,

And legs that lead to valleys and embrace.

God bless those legs,

a constant thought in mind,

Leading to springs so pure and valleys deep, Unmatched preparation,

a taste so kind,

Not hasty lust but flavors slow,

they seep.Bittersweet,

a phantom pain takes hold,

Hurts when it gives in,

pressed softly,

tight,

Her voice takes me to space,

a story told,

Soul inwards,

cold feet,

a curious delight.

One push could cure my soul,

a simple goal,

But she fans out the hunger within me first, Before I met her,

I was adrift,

no soul,

A comet bright, near the sun,

I thirst.

She hates me sometimes,

missing her soulmate,

Yet She warms and lifts when I enter the room,

She's a firelight,

my candle,

love's sweet state,

Her temple's voice,

a tingling sense of doom.

Her Majesty generous to Her King,

Gates open wide,

then close in her castle,

She offers much,

from chambers to her ring,

Her jungle vast,

those famed hills a tassel.

A valley joins,

her plain self to the south,

She empties to the spring with thick undergrowth,

A nest of delicious cookies,

truth's mouth,

Pasties of Hansel and Gretel,

nothing loathing.

Her walls of jello sweet,

they won't collapse,

Her cave with secrets winding,

up and down,

I'd be a fool to visit just once,

perhaps,

For seconds,

always room,

in her renown.

She grants me power,

quiet nights we please,

When curtains fall,

she's center stage,

behold,

"For Your Eyes Only,"

captivate with ease,

Emotion real,

her actions make me bold.

Her voice echoes within her chamber's space,

Glowing chambers of her kingdom,

pure,

With fountains springing,

thunder's powerful grace,

A love to guard,

no matter what's endured.

"Steal one for yours only,"

she softly says,

But in the end,

she steals my kiss,

always.