Month: November 2016


He was tired of waiting

Almost tired of praying

But that’s all he had, his knees

And bending them every day is what he knew

Waiting is hard he whispered

Tears collecting in his eyes

Fell to his knees and repeatedly said

Lord, I am tired,

On his stomach her lay

Loud moans coming out of him

Echoed by the emptiness of his soul

He was weary and exhausted

His soul was tired, his body was willing

Don’t I say my prayers right?

Am I missing something?

Where have I gone wrong?

We knew he suffered but he never opened up

His petals where like of tulips

Force them open and the beauty is lost

I watched him pray,

I watched him clean up

I watched him eat

I searched his eyes for something

But nothing, they were blank

But his eyelids were swollen

I wondered….

Will he be fine?



I wake up today feeling lousy but then i pick up my phone as usual to scroll throught my emails and social media time-lines and the headlines are;

1: #FreeJoyDoreen –  I didnt even know she was arrested because instagram the other day said she was having her traditional wedding. But yes, being a journalist i think she was curious (i would also be). She heard gunshots and chaos so she decided to let the rest of us know. And then she is arrested, what for i do not know. So maybe i dont know the story well but what happened to freedom of speech or expression and those other freedoms that democracy promised?

2:Kasese! – The images would force one to throw up. if felt like a genocide partly then a massacre, then i dont know what. Question is did we have to wait for this to arrest some people because its not like we started knowing about Kasese Yesterday? Funny thing no citizen knows the exact cause we keep guessiong from tribal conflicts, to political to the kingdom wanting to have a state..and still no one has clarified but people are being slaughted.

3: Major and his Escort shot dead – According to the media (since i wasnt present) they say the murder happened in the morning, broadday light a busy town and the killers were not even noticed by the police and traffic that keeps arresting vendors and young boys playi Matatu. So the killers had time to shoot the major almost the whole gun magazine(if its that they call it) 30 pullets, get into the car and pick whatever they needed and left. hmmm indeed God saw we needed grace

4: Evidence lost –  Now how on earth do you arrest Kanyamunyu and his team with no evidence? and how does evidence get lost and witnesses too. What are the people in intelligence doing? Because if there’s no evidence or witness, let the guy walk free of lets have the mob decide if he is guilty or not.. But how again i ask can evidence be lost. you do postmortem and the would is a bullet wound and then even the type os bullet isnt questioned?

Now, i want to know, what is most important? the naads money or the lives of the people?

The opposition Chaos or finding the cause of all these killings that go unjustified?

Either Christ is finally returning and has reached Kyengera or the Devil is winning

the people who should protect us are the ones destroying us and we are dancing because we have never known better.

But who knows,Maybe tomorrow the Sun will shine bright again.

AWAKENED #UgBlogWeek (6)

Her soul was too deep to explore by those who swam in shallow end

but somehow he swam too dep,

explored the bottom of her see slowly

made her feel human amongst mermaids

like some kind high power,

he ruled over her entir being

but then she realised…

she had suffered a speech seasoned with likes,

kissed lips dressed in love and topped by pride and filth

she hugged her emptiness every night

muttered regrets

fierceness and tenderness under the same breath

he never for once made her feel good enough

did he think she was?

or did she loose her worth along the street?

she doubted her tears when they fell

until she heard the wind whisper….

“you dont need tha kind of love”

she awoke!


When I saw you, I knew it had to be you,

My island had travelled so close to the shores.

My cheek laid to rest in his palms

Eyes piercing straight to my soul he said:

I like you, like very much

I am not asking that you like me back

I know you are a mess

But allow me hold your hand.

Was he serious?

Did he know how much I hurt?

Did he see the brokenness?

Suppose I asked you to be my wife

Better still, please marry me

My heart paused.

My stomach empty and shivering

On one knee he asked

Should I say yes, no?

He is my friend

I like him too

But won’t he break me?

Yes, I said.

I am going to love you hard

Fasten your seatbelt

It’s going to be a fast but safe.

So, see I am a mess

I am broken,

I will be headache many days…

Ssh…he said. I am ready for you.

Hid in every heart, is an answered prayer

You are mine. My prayer and my poison.


COMING HOME #UgBlogWeek(3)

I sat alone in the single room house

playing some soul and carols

taking to God loudly in my head

wishing i could take the next flight home

christmas passed unknown.

i didnt bake or have dessert

just portage made in my rice cooker.

the day was lonely and the nights were cold.

I stepped out to the bar a few miles

just to share some love in a strange land

i simply sat alone at my table

raised my legs to the sofa,

clung unto my knitted shrug

looked up to the beautiful fireworks

but i wasnt home. It didnt feel like Xmas

their was no fire, no trees, crackers.

just the snow,a penny of love and dull streets

no loud carols playing from the church next door

no family to eat turkey with.


light the tree for i am coming home.



On The Wings Of Love #UgBlogWeek (2)

she soars like an eagle

learning not just to fly

but flying with a broken wing
on familiar path with an old friend

he cheers her on through the pain

you are strong, he says

she turns her eyes to him

and he sees the tears in her eyes

he flies closer to her

and whispers,

“it takes a while,tomorrow will be better”

on his back he carries her to rest.

on the wings of love, every height counts.

on the wings of love, home isnt just a place.


7 days of Xmas(1) #UgBlogWeek

time check, 3am…

why is everyone up?

she crawls out of her bed

tiptoes out of her bedroom

the corridors are dark

and all she has are the walls for direction

a light at the end of the corridor

just behind the door to the living room

soft Xmas carols being sung in whisper

and their they are,

below the bright Tree,

decorated with cotton as fake snow flakes

it smells fresh,

disco lights are dancing

and then her own santa

a ballon mannequin in red and white.

everyone on their knees unwrapping their gifts

gift wrappers cracking as though fire crackers

and then she joins,

her very first christmas president

a small tea cup and saucer.

she was seven years.

Christ3257fab374ab934e385978e3468f9becmas is about love and sharing (mama said)

her heart warm with love

she teared.

she had no dress, but she had a cup,

a cup to dine, to play, to share.

On her kness before the tree she knelt

said a prayer for santa

a prayer for a dress next season

and thanked God for the love. she was just seven.



you cant burn and stay quiet, he said
slow dancing to each others heartbeats,

he held me close,

strumming my pain with his fingers
we silently swayed and spinned.

he pulled back with a questioning look

your eyes stole all my words away, i said

he drew me back to him,

a brittle smile on his face

their was a beautiful love shinning on my heart

i was flying on the wings of love

and then he held my face,

kissed my fore head

and the sun in my chest rose to the centre

the darkness had faded through the dance

its then i knew, my walk had begun,

it was morning outside.

one book and thousand of feelings.













A prayer answered

a thirst quenched.

it all fits perfectly

my toes tingling,

my smile exploding

its more than i will ever know

a song too sweet

a different kind of genre

more than my breath can hold

a gem my knees break for

not to scrub floors,

but to thank God for.

i am not walking a mile,

its just a new book

perhaps a mills and boons.

a new page, new chapter, new song

Its not watching the rains

but dancing in the rains

getting wet and muddy

a hearty laugh i have found

with true delight.

i wish i could expalin your eyes

and the sound of your voice…

how can i stop.