Grandpa, I have seen a long black snake across our land

With a huge corde on it

Pakjin    Pakjin    Pakjin

Is the voice of sound it makes

Its breathe is smoke and fire

I don’t know where it comes from nor where it goes

But cataclysmic;

it made a halt

And i saw

Out from it came a man with sinister looks

His one hand was holding a loaded machine gun

With fingers at the trigger

While the other using to snuff up a tobacco.

He wore a metal over with heavy boots

And head covered under a broad-rimmed black hat

Standing like a scout on a parade.


I lingered before he waved to the corde

That responded with a loud noise, poooh

Gawking at it as it disappeared.

Conjured, grandpa?

I think it is war

They want to take up our land

Lets mend our bows

Lets sharpen our arrows and make them ready!

By cidni cinite Posted in poems Tagged


Down the autumnal lane you find them.

The mucky places of the country

makes their resting base.

Very lonely and hungry

With one purpose in mind;

Feed my stomach.

These are the world’s unsolved.

Not two, three, ten but very many

Day in day out there number keep hitting high

Age to age they are still there

Scattered all over the world

Wishing for a miracle to happen

And anyone who happen to pass them

With two-four legged,

Their hands are hopefully outstretched

Entreating those who saunter

With a low ‘Please help me’ voice tone from their sotto voce.

they stoop from pit to pit,

looking for what could have been thrown out

by those who buy much to see them expire.

Who will save these street urchins?

Not even those in power,world shakers

have been able to remove them.

Are these not who end up to form gangs?

Are these not who brutalize, rape, mug?

Which one is better?

To leave them grow up in streets and attack us

Or to find them homes?

It is time we all take responsibilities

Prevent all that leads to there increase.

For without them insecurity will be of the past

Without them our sisters will not be afraid of night walk.


You see them and ignore them

You pass them and think it normal

You meet them but run away

That them form part of the world

Them must be there;

But No!

And when they come for you

You cry them are bad!


Once upon a time….

The story started I say,

I had set my wits; so attentive was I.

Okay, I thought my eyes were lying. Nope!

My heart had never failed me. It all began,

Under the roof, inside a room,

On top of the brown mahogany escritoire there she was

Seated relaxantly with a ready look and mesmerizing eyes.

Shush! i could not resist meritorious.

I opted to close my eyes for a while

And deep i was swallowed up in dreams;

Yes, I was probably building castles in air, maybe.

Then she stood; like statute, with slender at once body.

Whenever she walked, her pace; neither too fast nor too slow.

Big white eyes with mixed facial skin color that looked like;

A big black been thrown in a bowl full of milk. Shh!

Let me say she was a goddess. One that Africa has never had

Neither age to come will ever be. Hmm!

By cidni cinite Posted in poems Tagged


Lets gather up the lot

We from the west,

Lets fill up our silos.

With maize from the field


We will squeeze ‘obusuma’ within our fingers.

Let our brothers from the rift valley come

From the tiresome day of herding the cattle,

And milk the cows to make ‘mursik’

Lets encamp together and enjoy the supper tonight.

Hail! Hail! Hail!

We welcome all of you from central

Our table is finely decorated with ‘githeri’ for you

Our comrades from the east,

Are coming with “muthokoi’

There will be much joy; 

And entertainment from we from the coast

Our wine skins are full of new wine

Feel welcome to the banquet!

Sniff! Sniff! Sniff!

Suddenly the whole place is filled with a fresh misty aroma

We from Nyanza have already boarded a train

Our baskets are full of huge tilapia,

Final destination – To the banquet!

No commotion! No shudder! No envy!

We as one nation, With same purpose – Peace, love, unity.

Lets aim to our goal

In one accord,

Prevent the enemy from realizing our weakness

And fight tribalism,

Not forgetting our northern comrades

There strong bows and arrows will act as security for the banquet,

to arrest any foe among us having a backsliding heart.

All are welcome!

By cidni cinite Posted in poems Tagged