Category Archives: joy

Cheerfulness (Amusement, bliss, cheerfulness, gaiety, glee, jolliness, joviality, joy, delight, enjoyment, gladness, happiness, jubilation, elation, satisfaction, ecstasy, euphoria)

Zest (Enthusiasm, zeal, zest, excitement, thrill, exhilaration)

Contentment (Contentment, pleasure)

Pride (Pride, triumph)

Optimism (Eagerness, hope, optimism)

Enthrallment (Enthrallment, rapture)

Relief (Relief)

joy

I am not rich #wakeupAfrica

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Her thoughts percolate into my ears like acid rain

Reined in, tied to loads of nonsense from new-world

Worldly thoughts I loathe, for venom is their ocean.

Oceans of bliss in their ignorance masks the ensuing pain.

 

Pride in her riches like my daughter’s first picture;

Picturing formless ink forms as more of number “1”s.

One day she’ll doodle and it will make sense,  but now

Nowhere near Picasso’s are the art in her feature.

 

Pride in riches: she called Africa the richest place!

Placing my bets carefully I side with her view.

She then said the diamonds and gold sustain that too!

Too much for me ma’am…but mine’s a different place.

 

For rich or poor is defined by so much more  than stones

Stoning soldiers to death, stone cold killers from kids

Kidding with adult toys (not those …jeez guys! Be adults!),

Adult toys that suck life and blood and call retaliative drones.

 

Come on! Those aren’t your riches…they are Earth’s;

Earthly things outliving our decaying remains,

Remaining for the next generation. We could have picked

Pickets as currencies, or flowers…just anything and set its worth.

 

For the real wealth is people together working equal,

Unequal, Good, evil. All people as long as they are happy.

Happens that that’s what also brings economic wealth.

Wealthiest nations have the highest density of people.

 

The leaves of her premise sway about on the roots of

Offish bar-talk: “They get raw and process and sell,

Sales price escalating in the process so the initial person

Persistently can’t afford what has come of his stuff.”

 

But maybe there’s the catch: It’s not your stuff!

Stuffed with plenty from mother nature you watched

Watches scattered in rocks and metal about your garden,

But never sought to assemble any, never used your stuff.

 

So while you hid and counted the talents in hand

Handymen handled theirs, building all that we see around.

Round the centuries Africa did, then Asia, then Europe, then…

Then Jesus’s talent parable’s paradox suddenly stands.

 

So while Africa whines about the stuff being stolen

The real loss is the exiled minds who’d fathom new ideas,

Ideally within their home. But there the hero is non grata

Grating his life away amidst corruption and opportunities stolen.

 

(c) Nyonglema

 

A lot of talk of how Africa’s rich for its resources, landscapes…blah blah! No! what Africa has is people. People abused for being honest, abused for seeking change. But people capable of great things, but pushed into egocentricity by the  artificial adversity created by the people appointed to get them out of adversity.

Africa’s quite huge, but this is the commonest trait. Our leaders spoil themselves on their people, and education suffers, then research suffers. The major cost of finished goods is the R&D we don’t do due to stolen (not embezzled) funds. Lots of wasted opportunities.

Africa’s time will come when Africa’s people’s time will come…when they shall be heard. When Africa stops looking for the fault everywhere and really introspects in a deep SWOT exercise. When leaders actually start to serve.

 

 

joy

His first poem #NatureIsSpeaking @conservationorg

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The little icons play games on the phone screen,
As my little monster muses playing Subway Surfers,
His new drug, my new bane.
Well we parents are keen
To teach him how to live through all life offers
In words, hugs and a cane,

If necessary. I grab the phone like to grab his attention
Fleeting from object to object like bees in a meadow.
But really I did,
I grabbed his attention,
Turned it to the page opening up poetic knowledge’s window
In words unhid,

Yet unknown to me yet. Simple words he must recite
To mum and dad, and Mr Grumpy tearing through age three
Happy to have the phone
Not even turning right
To see the first performance of the object of sibling rivalry
And true friendship shown.

“If all the seas…“, I interrupt the poet rudely
Mouth hanging on the words, longing to utter and make
His parents all proud
Of his bright memory,
“Bow, say your name, then go” I say to the second take
Then he does, opens his mouth

“If all the seas were one sea…” gesticulating as words
Swam out his mouth, climbed the trees, building a massive
One, next to a massive sea.
Waves wrapped round words
Flowing, leaves fluttering on branches with bird nests give
The Axe a legacy

Even more vain. That Axe wielded by that one great Man
Whose only great feat was to chop down the great Tree
And have it fall dying,
Gasping and cursing man,
Gasping and drowning in a Splish Splash which brings glee
To the words flying

Out my boy’s happy countenance splash-washed by accomplishment.
We clap, but those words have left me wondering
As I oft do
Little things made big events,
Why would the great man not wield greatness to support underlings,
But hack on wood

Innocent wood minding its business by the sea, giving you and me
Oxygen, protecting us. That great Tree, now a log in the Great Sea.
Oh what tragedy
Quite Shakespeary
To spear the listener’s heart by killing the hero through his adversary:
Great Man sometimes scary.

My hero hops on me: “Dad it’s your turn”, and I obey
Bow, say my name. Wrap up my congratulations in kind words
Telling him how great
He did just convey
The poet’s message. He’s happy, I’m still secretly thinking his words
Great Man axed Tree Great.

(c) Nyonglema

joy

School #writing201 #school #auldlangsyne

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The sun pours shine in gusts of gelb
And rise my sons from home
To bathe in glow and with some help
Get dressed to get to school

The steps do let them down to stones
Of colours myriad fair,
The breeze brings blowing myriad tones
From flowers here and there.

The chirping birds on that tall tree
Are music to their minds
To cheer with song these grumpy three
With packs upon their backs.

The metal beast receives them all
As scream and shout they go
To fight for toys or random ball
And scream some more I do

And start the rev and off we go
Through green and brown to school
To learn of things of long ago
And things so Google new

Oh how I wish my days were back
And I could go to school
Not type away on platic tacks
But smell the nests on trees.

(c) Nyonglema

joy

Where is my Map? #writing201 #lost #stray #pindaric #ode

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You light the way that leads to my life,
Love on the cross shines down on my strife,
Saviour, my Lord, save me today,
Show me the way, Lord take my hand

I saw the stars the dark ones oh Lord,
And lost my sight, and followed the hoard,
Deep in I went, yes sought out the void,
‘Twas so devoid of Love in this land

Draw me nearer, Master nearer,
Draw a way to save what’s left today
Draw me nearer, Master hear us,
Listen and save your children as humble we pray.

(c) Nyonglema

joy

Limericks #Wiriting201 #robinhood #birthday #monster

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Robin Hood

You say my sword, arrows, arc have skinned your pouch to the bark
And all your sorrows are fruit of schemes of my men, so hark:
You claim I’m the worst of the lot,
Well I tell you, sir, I’m Not-
Tingham’s worst fellow, and I’m proud o’ the remark!

My birthday

Today’s the day I first breathed, first saw the sunlight,
And I’m moping unlike a birthday person might,
For all have forgotten my bday
And sad, I get home …then “heeey!”
“Surprise” screams at me from a cake crowned with candlelight.

Monsters under my bed
I know I shouldn’t be scared right now as the lights are off
But I know too that they are only scared when the dark is off
And once the switch has gone
The other way, they are prone
To start jumping at me from under the bed and make life rough.


(c) Nyonglema

joy

For me? #life #breath #thanksLord

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Lily fragrance dances about my nose like lasses in a mall,
I soak it all in: bees and butterflies want nectar like I muesli.
Flying about like happy tweets, the birds colour the sky with cheer and fluff
Enjoying the blue sky, like I the breeze; did You make all this just for me?


Nyonglema

joy

5 – 10 – 15 #WorldTeachersDay #5thOctober2015

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5, 10 and 15 are the hours my body chooses to remember:
Waking up abruptly to the hateful chorus of mechanical clocks
To face the day at 5am with short thermometer fluids.
Then at 10am the buffaloes stampede to the stream, the slide,
A swing overworked while a throng stand and wait to turn,
Unable to see 10h30am where the fun all ends. The balls are working too,
Until all have to wear sad faces at the classroom door.
15h00 to familiar aromas, tastes, visuals, and instead of homework,
I’m studying stage 2 of Super Mario Bros with A-B-C, then X-Y, then L-R
Hoping dad and mum are late enough that I finally make it over
The mathematical complexity of leaping over this gorge!


However, between the 5, 10 and 15 is the treasure my brain will remember.
Glue, match sticks and cardboard were Picasso’s iceberg tip, like me
Then letters like weird glyphs found meaning in a word ballet
On the pages, chalkboards, white on black wisdom screeching in the heat
And my eyes were still sleepy from late night Nintendo adventures.
The smiley faces became ticks, the ticks became grades, the grades
Became appraisals, and each aimed to keep me from straying
And make that other kid proud that he stayed furthest ahead of the pack.
The pressurized air bounces around the room sans-echo:
Years of research presented to my ignorant brain in seconds
And over and over again, I finally get it, and scorn those blokes
Of years past who couldn’t figure out that the apple WILL fall down.
Do it like this, not like this! Manners, planning, praying:
I soaked them all up in floating waves around my ears near my peers,
Till soon I was so filled, I was letting them out to other sponges.
Sadly, none of that ever fixed the chicken scratch I call handwriting!


5, 10 and 15 those three numbers which represent all you were to me:
End of nursery, end of primary, end of secondary and start university!
At each junction you stood, waiting to direct me, and whip…mean correct me.
Thank you the teachers who’ve made me who I’ve become today,
Who shaped the words I’ve chosen to write
And the way I say the jokes which make the souls of friends light.
You’re the garden of the world, for all that is dark and all that is right,
The under-looked power changing the world with red pen, white chalk and black board.


(c) Nyonglema


R.I.P. Mum…you’re the teacher I miss the most, till we meet again!

joy, sadness

What would you do if it were you? #refugees #syria #RCA #somalia #eritrea

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There are guns shouting fear through your window shutters,

A bomb blast breaks your neighbour’s home and you’re running down the street.

The kids don’t get it. They don’t get it: why is there blood in the gutters?

Why are hands without bodies, heads with gaping mouths, missing severed feet?

The screaming gets louder, and it’s on your spouse’s and your shoulders

To save them from a threat, unarmed, untrained and the closest

You’d come to death were those Expendables movies in your hard disk folders.

The banks are shut, the bus system is shut, you never even had a Toyota starlet.

What would you do if it were you? If you’re playing metal gear solid in your own town?

Only this time, you have one life, no continue nor save, and to your untrained self are tagged

More untrained and even naive souls counting on you’re strength in this showdown.

What would you do if the only option was either death by exhaustion or having your head bagged?

(c) Nyonglema

joy

My Weight Loss Routine Part 2/2 #freeWeightLoss #health

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“You’re too sedentary” I recall my parent’s warning
As I swam in bites and kilobytes on a monitor
Forgetting the world, forgetting to exercise, eating junk
And battering my circadian cycle to a pulp.

And I made up my mind: I’ll get the Best of Both Worlds
(Not the K&J album…but my passion and my health)
Through a plan that’ll fix the issue at hand
And shut the mouth of that mocking sphygmomano.

So my 3 point plan was :
1. Eating less overall by halving breakfast and supper all through and lunch until my body stops groaning when I’m not stuffing more than I need into my mouth
2. Bye bye snacks and irregular meals. I shall have no more than breakfast, lunch and supper and damn you for taking me to that “soya” spot during off-meal hours!
3. A couple jumps before, while (if safe) and after I shower when the sun defeats darkness and when darkness gets its revenge. Then a diligent stretching session before I sleep.

It’s 2 years now and I’ve been failing then trying my scheme again,
And I’ve beat the scale, sphygmo and the jeers:
I’ve been at 83kg now for quite a while,
And I didn’t have to pay anybody a cent to pack this smile

(c) Nyonglema

joy

My Weight Loss Routine Part 1/2 #busyPeople #freeWeightLoss #health

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Oh! I still remember the blow the scale dealt
As my feet finally feared less enough to step on
And my eyes lost the fight, staring down
At the figures flashing, then fixed against the screen.

95kg?!! How…when…wait this isn’t working.
This isn’t happening! How could this happen?
“Wait”, I said as off unbelieving I reset the lie
But felt the shock as I to myself no more could lie.

The funny looks of mean bastards jeering,
The rejection felt in taxi seats, public places
The TV’s bashing of me, through photoshopped “perfection”
And the promise that this was all going to get worse!
Oh crap!

So here I am in a world new to me, unknown to me,
Wishing to step out of the discomfort I face.
I still love me, for all God gave mummy to give me
But the sphygmomano also dealt a worse blow:
As my heart flirted with pressure beyond what vessels could hold.

I had to make a plan.

(c) Nyonglema