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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 · 都市
分數不夠
51 Chs

HER BEAUTY

**If looks could kill, I would be six feet under, Buried within my undying embers, Even if the grave was left unscarred, I would still be glowing from within.

Her gaze is hypnotic, Her gaze is mesmerizing, One mean look from her gaze, Voila you are in an enchantment, She could turn a frown into a smile, Agents of air be caught guilty singing, Here and there sweet symphony swinging.

Her smile is of wonder, When she does so... Makes the gates of heaven open, Angels smiling with awe, She is an angel, An angel without wings of course.

If looks could kill, I would be a dead man walking, She has the power to revive me, Put me into a trance simultaneously, She has the power to conjure, Mixed feelings and signals, Butterflies and uneasiness.

She is beautiful, Endowed with perfection, Skin so brown, Skin so soft, Pleasing to stare at, Her mixture of ebony, Dash of cocoa here and there, She's a masterpiece, Makes the blind man see, And the deaf hear, When she walks by, Flaunting her majestic strides.

Her figure hugs every dress, Her torso fits every skirt perfectly, She is a model, The whole world her runway.

If looks would kill, I would sacrifice my vision for her, For what is sight without love, I ask? I have never dared to paint her, I have never dared to sculpt her, Lord knows I always dared to sing to her, As my vocal accompaniment my heart, Orchestrating the rhythms, Acapella voice serenades the queen to be, I dare write you this poem, As I deem my words worthy to be.

If looks could kill, I will paint you a masterpiece, So that everyone should see, What I saw in you, As I saw her beauty.**