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


Down the isle he walks with content

With eyes glancing from hither and thither

Finally he sees a stand

And in no time is in his caboose

Besides an innocent heart…

With the sotto voce of a mighty deity he mutters,


Slowly like a prey she is drawn into his nest

This is the Lady Killer

Well brimmed, good looking

His cachet even the atheist cannot refuse

Whom with no time is no more.

But for the poor lass,

Unknowingly she falls into his trap

Mesmerized by his looks!

Blindfolded of the dangerous claws he carries

That in case she is stung,

Sorry, we have to cut short our poem…


Are you not the son of Akbada

The tender-hearted man who;

Although he died a long time ago had only one hen.

Whenever it laid an egg hesitated not to share with the whole village.

When we saw you, we saw your father in you

The generosity and kind-heartedness

That you would follow his steps and bring change

We were tired of being played tee-a-tete

That was why we chose you

We did not care of how you side-walked your shoes

What you ate or wore

Everywhere you went you tried to enlighten part of us

Correcting the higher powers to disdain evil

our focus was on your mind

With all humility though, your face was buried in your hands

And you seemed to have bewitched us

Your words were like that of a god

With authority you seemed to shun evil

Taking to afar place our mind

Building castles of the good life to come

causing our children to dream that;

Unemployment, poverty, corruption would be history

But after all demons are not born; demons are made

Where are your dreams?

Not more than as good as dead.

In our lips it was only you

Our women danced at your appearance

And when you won;

We sang, we danced, we cried that our saviour had arrived

It was like rouse; the whole village was in a jamboree

And you re-assured the fulfilment of our dreams.

Not until the demon possessed you

Not until you had a taste of the honey

And when you realized that the honeycomb would not dry

You forgot about yourself

That it was us who took you there

You started living in Sheraton and driven in huge cars

Black suited with Swiss bank account holders

The village that was once your home became a foreign land

Walking, eating, wearing, friends all changed

And you considered us like chaff sieved in the wind.


“My heart has been weeping all these years

Crying Hailing bleeding Groaning Lonely

Trying to look for who can smooth-en it

Seeing others enjoy life

But it, living in solitude

Wishing for something…

But one day a miracle will happen

That day, That very same day

Guess it will be awesome

The birds won’t hesitate to wake me up by their chi chi tunes

From the east, There will be a bright sparkling glow of the sun

It won’t cease to rise up

Earlier on, the sky would have been full of twinkling stars

And among them

One that shone brighter than others

Which I would have called it My dream Princess

Then afterwards had sweet dreams

And have a scrumptious breakfast

Before I tune on my radio

To listen to the sweet voice of a new born angel

Saying; Good morning my Love”