Friday, 23 April 2021

I'm searching for an artist: Poem

 

I’m searching for an artist

 

Artists use broken glass

Glue it together and paint

Over the fragments.

It’s abstract, they say

They colour the fragments

With blue, green.

It’s abstract, they say.

When they say that,

The brokenness turns into expensive art.

 

I’m searching for an artist

To glue my brokenness

Glue the fragments together

With blue, green

I want the artist to say, “It’s abstract.”

Because when they say that,

My brokenness will turn into expensive art.

 

 

Written by Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva, April 2021

Tuesday, 20 April 2021

I MISS THE DAYS: POEM BY BEVERLEY NAMBOZO NSENGIYUNVA

 

I miss the days

when friendship was

an invitation to laugh

at everything

and nothing

At shadows that danced like brooms

At spinach that got stuck between the teeth.

I miss the days when friendship

was a time to fly kites

in between bites

of hotdogs, maize,and simsim balls

A time to ride bicycles

And count the passing clouds

Creating our own musicals

On a stage made of grass.

I miss the days when friendship was

walking to church in long white socks

Whistling at flowers, throwing rocks.

Now, conversations are a patronizing

Drumming to the ears

Dreams have turned into sermons

Invitations have turned into a trick

To join a mastermind class.

"If you don't buy my book, you don't love me!" They scream.

Even if the book doesn't speak to you.

Keep your honesty aside

And enjoy the ride

Of self-help

Business for breakfast

Lectures for lunch

Tidbits of tips for tea

And all of this, they say, is to make you grow.

And yet each time they call, you shrink.

It's another condescending call

About your commitment, or lack of it

So many people are committed these days.

Are we all lunatics?

Subscribe to this and get one free!

This offer lasts for a week!

Three steps to becoming great again!

And yet all I want

Are the three steps to

My friend's heart again.

It's not the years that have changed us.

It's lazy to blame it on our age

It's preposterous to claim that life happened.

Our friendship wasn't a thing that just happened.

It was who we were.

....

By Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva, April 2021

Kampala, Uganda.