POETRY REVISION
- THE BEARD
In the pulpit he swayed and turned.
Leant forward, backward,
To the right: to the left.
His solemn voice echoed;
Lowly the congregation followed,
‘Do you love your neighbour?’
Meekly they bow at his keen eye
Now examining a grey head
Heaving under her sobs.
His heart leapt assured-
‘Her sins weigh on her!’
So with her he chats outside;
‘Weep not child you are pardoned.’
‘But sir, your beard conjured up
The spirit of my dead goat!’
(Proscovia Rwakyaka)
- AN AFRICAN THUNDERSTORM
From the west
Clouds come hurrying with the wind
Turning sharply
Here and there
Like a plague of locusts
Tossing things on its tail
Like a madman chasing nothing.
Pregnant clouds
Ride stately on its back
Gathering to perch on hills
Like dark sinister wings
The wind whistles by
And trees bend to let it pass.
In the village
Screams of delighted children
Toss and turn
In the din of the whirlwind wind,
Women ,
Babies clinging on their backs-
Dart about
In and out
Madly the wind whistles by
Whilst trees bend to let it pass
Clothes wave like tattered flags
Flying off
To expose dangling breasts
As jagged blinding flashes
Rumble tremble and crack
Amidst the smell of fired smoke
And the pelting march of the storm.
(David Rubadiri)
- BUILDING THE NATION
Today I did my share
In building the nation
I drove the permanent secretary
To an important urgent function
In fact to a luncheon at the Vic.
The menu reflected its importance
Cold Bell beer with small talk
Then fried chicken with niceties
Wine to fill the hollowness of the laughs
Ice cream to cover the stereotype jokes
Coffee to keep the PS awake on return journey.
I drove the Permanent Secretary back
He yawned many times in the back of the car
Then to keep awake, he suddenly asked,
Did you have lunch friend?
I replied looking straight ahead
And secretly smiling at his belated concern
That I had not but was slimming!
Upon which he said with a seriousness
That amused more than annoyed me,
Mwananchi, I too had none!
I attended to matters of state
Highly delicate diplomatic duties you know,
And friend it goes against my grain,
Causes me stomach ulcers and wind.
Ah, he continued, yawning again,
The pains we suffer in building the nation!
So the PS had ulcers too!
My ulcers I think are equally painful
Only they are caused by hunger
Not sumptuous lunches!
So two nation builders
Arrived home this evening
With terrible stomach pains
The result of building the nation
- Different ways.
(Henry Barlow)
- I SPEAK FOR THE BUSH
When my friend sees me
He swells and pants like a frog
Because I talk the wisdom of the bush!
He says we from the bush
Do not understand civilized ways
For we tell our women
To keep the hem of their dresses
Below the knee.
We from the bush, my friend insists,
Do not know how to ‘enjoy’
When we come to the civilized city,
Like nuns, we stay away from the nightclubs
Where women belong to no men
And men belong to no women
And these civilized people
Quarrel and fight like hungry lions!
But, my friend, why do men
With crippled legs, lifeless eyes,
Wooden legs, empty stomachs
Wander about the streets
Of this civilized world?
Teach me, my friend, the trick,
So that my eyes may not
See those whose houses have no walls
But emptiness all around;
Show me the wax you use
To seal your ears
To stop hearing the cry of the hungry;
Teach me the new wisdom
Which tells men
To talk about money and not love,
When they meet women;
Tell your God to convert
Me to the faith of the indifferent,
The faith of those
Who will never listen until
They are shaken with blows.
I speak for the bush:
You speak for the civilized
Will you hear me?
Poetry Revision-Examples of Poems
- THE GUILT OF GIVING
You’ve seen that heap of rags
That pollutes the air conditioned
City centre
That house that creeps about
In the clean core of sophistication
You’ve seen him waylay his betters
And make them start-
Especially when they have no change.
You recall the day you came upon him
And were startled by his silent presence
Intruding into your preoccupation:
You hurled a coin
Which missed the mark
And rolled into the gutter
Where he groped for it
With a chilling grosteque gratitude
That followed you down the street
You dived into the nearest shop
To escape the stare of the scandalized crowd
That found you guilty
Of recalling attention
To the impenetrable patience
They had learnt not to see.
(Laban Erapu)
POETRY REVISION
- THE BEARD
In the pulpit he swayed and turned.
Leant forward, backward,
To the right: to the left.
His solemn voice echoed;
Lowly the congregation followed,
‘Do you love your neighbour?’
Meekly they bow at his keen eye
Now examining a grey head
Heaving under her sobs.
His heart leapt assured-
‘Her sins weigh on her!’
So with her he chats outside;
‘Weep not child you are pardoned.’
‘But sir, your beard conjured up
The spirit of my dead goat!’
(Proscovia Rwakyaka)
- AN AFRICAN THUNDERSTORM
From the west
Clouds come hurrying with the wind
Turning sharply
Here and there
Like a plague of locusts
Tossing things on its tail
Like a madman chasing nothing.
Pregnant clouds
Ride stately on its back
Gathering to perch on hills
Like dark sinister wings
The wind whistles by
And trees bend to let it pass.
In the village
Screams of delighted children
Toss and turn
In the din of the whirlwind wind,
Women ,
Babies clinging on their backs-
Dart about
In and out
Madly the wind whistles by
Whilst trees bend to let it pass
Clothes wave like tattered flags
Flying off
To expose dangling breasts
As jagged blinding flashes
Rumble tremble and crack
Amidst the smell of fired smoke
And the pelting march of the storm.
(David Rubadiri)
- BUILDING THE NATION
Today I did my share
In building the nation
I drove the permanent secretary
To an important urgent function
In fact to a luncheon at the Vic.
The menu reflected its importance
Cold Bell beer with small talk
Then fried chicken with niceties
Wine to fill the hollowness of the laughs
Ice cream to cover the stereotype jokes
Coffee to keep the PS awake on return journey.
I drove the Permanent Secretary back
He yawned many times in the back of the car
Then to keep awake, he suddenly asked,
Did you have lunch friend?
I replied looking straight ahead
And secretly smiling at his belated concern
That I had not but was slimming!
Upon which he said with a seriousness
That amused more than annoyed me,
Mwananchi, I too had none!
I attended to matters of state
Highly delicate diplomatic duties you know,
And friend it goes against my grain,
Causes me stomach ulcers and wind.
Ah, he continued, yawning again,
The pains we suffer in building the nation!
So the PS had ulcers too!
My ulcers I think are equally painful
Only they are caused by hunger
Not sumptuous lunches!
So two nation builders
Arrived home this evening
With terrible stomach pains
The result of building the nation
- Different ways.
(Henry Barlow)
- I SPEAK FOR THE BUSH
When my friend sees me
He swells and pants like a frog
Because I talk the wisdom of the bush!
He says we from the bush
Do not understand civilized ways
For we tell our women
To keep the hem of their dresses
Below the knee.
We from the bush, my friend insists,
Do not know how to ‘enjoy’
When we come to the civilized city,
Like nuns, we stay away from the nightclubs
Where women belong to no men
And men belong to no women
And these civilized people
Quarrel and fight like hungry lions!
But, my friend, why do men
With crippled legs, lifeless eyes,
Wooden legs, empty stomachs
Wander about the streets
Of this civilized world?
Teach me, my friend, the trick,
So that my eyes may not
See those whose houses have no walls
But emptiness all around;
Show me the wax you use
To seal your ears
To stop hearing the cry of the hungry;
Teach me the new wisdom
Which tells men
To talk about money and not love,
When they meet women;
Tell your God to convert
Me to the faith of the indifferent,
The faith of those
Who will never listen until
They are shaken with blows.
I speak for the bush:
You speak for the civilized
Will you hear me?
(Everett Standa)
- THE GUILT OF GIVING
You’ve seen that heap of rags
That pollutes the air conditioned
City centre
That house that creeps about
In the clean core of sophistication
You’ve seen him waylay his betters
And make them start-
Especially when they have no change.
You recall the day you came upon him
And were startled by his silent presence
Intruding into your preoccupation:
You hurled a coin
Which missed the mark
And rolled into the gutter
Where he groped for it
With a chilling grosteque gratitude
That followed you down the street
You dived into the nearest shop
To escape the stare of the scandalized crowd
That found you guilty
Of recalling attention
To the impenetrable patience
They had learnt not to see.
(Laban Erapu)