I Dream

I stand by myself,
beside myself,
torn apart by myriads of trials
and tones of sufferings,
yet I dream.

Like a wrecked ship
hit inimically by the waves,
out of use to its makers,
so am I,
yet I dream.

Seated calmly at the shore,
I look into the warry sea
and brave myself for the times,
saying:
It’s not over until I’m completely crushed down,
till my parts are used to roast fish;
and even when my parts will be used to roast fish,
I’ll still twist in the fire,
So, m’hmm…
I dream.

Like a ramshackle car,
left out in the rain,
bespattered and snowed upon,
so am I,
oh, yet I dream.

I look up the sky
and hear a voice saying loud,
“I’m coming for a ride, boy.”
So i think of myself on the roads again,
bouncing to the park,
just because I dream.

There’s poverty back at home,
there’s sickness,
and an unimaginable amount of pain;
I hear my siblings moaning,
their cry like that of numerous preys
clamped down by predators,
yet I dream.

I deeam of a future better,
I dream of a season riper,
I dream of listening to
the reading of what I write
and matching out of this zoo
to a clear sight;
I dream of the fresh sunlight
hitting my face after twilight,
shining into the darkest parts of my life.

I dream.

(c) 2022 Lamittan Minsah. All rights reserved.

Only a crushed leaf can’t dream of a sunny day after winter.

I’m grateful for having found a family here. I’ve been away on some issues, including my mum’s sickness that has taken me with a lot of worry. She was found with a terrible combination of diseases, namely: malaria, typhoid and arthritis, and has since been on medication. I thank God she’s a bit stable now.

I’ve been stunned by how caring a family I have here. Some came directly to my inbox to check on my welfare, and, holy catfish, I lack enough words to express how much obliged I am for their comfort and love. I love you-all so much and missed you inexplicably.

I also have to say that I’ve really missed reading your posts and will take to your sites one after the other to see for myself all the goodies awaiting there.

And I come back with another sweet news (well, at least it’s good news to me 😄). 👇

“Twilight of Freedom” paperback now available

You can now order a manual copy of my recent play “Twilight of Freedom”. This play covers the following themes, among others: politics, dairy farming, health and sickness, conflict, domestic violence, pain and suffering, classism, sibling rivalry, parenting, freedom, neo-colonialism, governance and change. Check the link below the cover to order a copy.

Click here for kindle and paperback.

Click here for a soft copy direct to your email.

My emails are still open to fellow poets who wish to participate in an upcoming anthology of poems dubbed “Tales of a Tearful World” and another dubbed “The Voice of Kenyan Poets“. Click the highlighted texts to read more. Many thanks to those who have submitted. I will respond to all submissions from June.

Tears of Laughter

Synopsis
This is a critique on the persona’s community’s funeral culture. The persona faults how a lot of attention is given to the deceased and not their family. While the deceased is still ill, their friends and relatives do not take care of their medication and treatment. They only show up after he/she is announced dead to do a fundraiser for the hospital bill, costly casket and other burial expenses, and to eat during the send-off ceremony. After the funeral, people scatter off and the bereaved family is abandoned. A list is kept for punishing those who did not participate by abandoning them during their funerals.

If you love listening, you can release your eyes from straining through the text and listen to me narrate the poem. And kindly remember to read the announcements below it.

Tears of Laughter

My people cry,
they mourn for their frelatives sipping tea,
putting butter on their bread,
and spreading cloths for their bed,
my people mourn;
with hearts torn,
with faces wrought with sorrow,
and purses loaded with dough,
my people mourn.

Meat and corn boiling in the backyard,
sweet music playing in the front-yard,
a crowd moots the cost of a farewell party
with voices so loud and hearty:
“I will buy the casket, how much is it?”
“Thirty thousand. Thank you, that’s great.”
“I will pay for the visitors’ meal.”
“And I will set off the hospital bill.”

But oh my God!
The widow, seated far off in gloom,
feeling lonely in the jam-packed busy room,
turns back the hands of time,
and with a heart dunked in lime,
bemoans her youngsters –
the blurry future, the crippled stars;
she cries so loud she nearly breaks the roof,
she mourns heartlessly for her life standing aloof.

My community,
my people in unity,
my friends and relatives
are a full house, and money falls like dry leaves,
as though everyone girded up their loins,
yet for a surgery of sixty thousand coins –
oh! Not even a sausage could fall,
that’s my people, lol!

Then comes the fare‐thee‐well day,
all folks up and on their way,
their testimonies are a sweet cider:
“He was a good man, kind, with good order.”
“He was generous.”
“He was humorous.”
And we siiiiiiing… but oh! The clay is vile beneath our feet,
eating our finest without a beat,
leaving kids stricken with cold;
a father is lost; a plague seems to unfold,
at the graveside, they break into a wail,
reminiscing the hard past, and the foreboding hail.

My people console, shedding tears.
What! Shedding tears?
Yes, they also mourn, and then sit by the fences, waiting
for food before leaving in twos kibitzing;
that’s my people’s way,
and a list is kept till the next day.
A list?
Yes, of contributors,
and for punishing the debtors
while a weaker future continues to unfold,
wrought with myriads of uncertainties like a movie mold.

Why should our gatherings be for grief
while all the hardships we give no brief?
My community,
my people with unity,
Why do we gather and shed tears
and mourn and shed away our fears
In the face of death
while inside us we laugh so hard we lose our breath?
We cry to shield our laughter
and to cut ourselves from the blames thereafter,
“Oh oh oh, he is gone too soon,
Hahahahahaha… he almost took away my moon.”
That’s my people.

Announcements

1. Coming Soon: Twilight of Freedom (Tomorrow 28/04/2022)

My new ebook (a play by the way) is coming up tomorrow. Please do grab a copy from our central bookshop and support my writing (the link will be made available).

Due to some delays in logistics, paperbacks will be made available for purchase in mid May. If you love manual copies, be sure to grab one then.

Book Description: Abel Layland, a dairy farmer from Santow County in Gremalock Kingdom, meets Jolene at a milk collection port in his village. After their wedding five months later, he realizes Jolene has been secretly having an affair with his brother Benarch. The lady also becomes part of King Lutan III’s dominion, a reign that has interfered with the economy of the dairy sector and of the of the entire kingdom and which Abel is determined to dismantle. Working closely with his friend Clement Ryan – a dairy cooperative manager, Dr. Delia Hitleigh – a dairy farming professional, Santow County Governor Calipso Reinsal who has openly rebelled the king’s dominion and other key fugures, Abel steps up on a delicate and bloody mission that he hopes will bring sanity to both the kingdom and his marriage.

2. Upcoming anthologies

Submissions are still open for the following upcoming anthologies:

a). Tales of a Tearful World: Narrative Poems. Open until May 31, 2022. Worldwide writers.

b) The Voice of Kenyan Poets. Open until June 10. Exclusive to Kenyan writers.

Living a Desolate Lie

Today I revisited this spoken word poem I made some years ago. It came right from within me as I was facing a terrible storm in my life.

The truth is, many people often live between two worlds; the imaginery and the real worlds. The imaginery world is a perceived world, a misrepresentation of the real world. In the imaginary world, people create an impressive image to feed the curiosity of their friends, relatives, coworkers etc. It could be through photo-posts, cool dressing codes, warm facial expressions, general grooming and style of talk. However, behind these impressions are a distraught self, one that suffers physically, emotionally, or spiritually. That’s exactly what this poem is about. People often smile, but it doesn’t mean they are totally okay. They don’t just want to unleash their deplorable self in front of the world and his wife. So it’s advisable that before you judge or underrate a person for their actions, please listen to what they have to say. Maybe it could be their only chance to tell their painful story.

Don’t forget to subscribe to my YouTube channel.

ANNOUNCEMENTS

1. New book release

A story about the struggle for liberation from the whims of economic oppression and poor governance.

2. Upcoming anthology – call for submission

Submissions are now open for our first ever anthology entitled “Tales of a Tearful World: Narrative Poems“. Click here for more details.