by Gift Kithi
I am engrossed by the feeling of being a child,
So best to be too good to realize the agency of time,
It elapsed and hunched up more of the feeling.
Of the breast milk in the nick of time,
The candies at the fall of a salt drop.
Even in the crocodile’s tear styles,
I never felt cold in winter
For the sun was forced
To shine on me then,
With a sporadic glitter
Like brilliant little grey beads.
And mostly, I sensed the delicacy of being a child,
For before it condenses,
And rises, and sinks and disintegrates in me,
I was wrapped up in fine cotton.
It elated my tender emotions,
Alarmed my small intellects,
And I realized the solace,
The embrace of a mother’s smile.
African ways of love
by Gift Kithi
Every time when the rainbow will beg to bow for your beauty,
I will stand to sing to your ears,
Dance for your eyes
And stretch my hand for yours,
Hold and entwine my voice with the strings of nzumari,
Evoke your ability to dance like a queen ,
Sing like a bird and make you happy .
For what I would love to see is your beautiful smile,
And the only tears you will shade are mistaken drips of sweat across your eye brows
From the amazing African chakacha.
You will flow with the rhythm
Shake to the rhymes,
Run to the stream of the cold purity,
Play with the birds on the blades,
And finally I will hear the chuckles of your ecstasy
With a beautiful and soft whispers, “I love you,”
For I have the patience of stars,
The same of the clouds,
And I believe a time is coming
When we’ll not choose
Matoke for breakfast,
Cashew nuts for lunch,
And nothing but satisfaction from the kisses,
Sure, love would truly have bade us welcome
Through the African ways.
(Editor’s Note: NonDoc provides Sundaze as a weekly space for poetry, short prose, visual art and other ideas pitched by creatives in Oklahoma and around the world. All submissions are encouraged, and new creatives are sought. Submit your work for publication by contacting Editorial@NonDoc.com.)