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Ngamau Boniface Nov 2017
Roads opening before me like scrolls for miles roll
Possibilities of all a little boy's dreams thronged
To fall in perfect places of easy natural succession.
Filling up fast and rising steadily to fill the hall
Dancing tears quickly drown my eyes in delightful pain
As I peer into the distance for which my heart has longed.

Wistful clouds like wool flux into light vapour
Blue horizons undulating lazily peacefully lie
Oh! What a beauty has been made of this
Oblique loneliness and mindless stupor
And from above as the Clarion call clears the sky
My tender heart will swell with much peace

Soon the sun will cause the air the cloud to blow
All the heat of enlivened passions within me shall flow
The ice, crisp cruel soul to thaw
Love and song is all I will need to know
And by the by it shall be so and so
Here's my Melody dance with me slow
For all I am, you I will show.
Ngamau Boniface Nov 2017
Little standing duck whose weight wobbles her feet,
Simple sallow duck sways in shallow water,
Dips beak in silt for grit and looks up,
So much gratitude for a little, a grain.

The known, the too well known is sneered,
A little vanity in understanding the latent perhaps?
To keep hid secret humour, whose hue only remains seen?
Reddened cheeks and jutting veins,
Or just leave it all unsaid, maybe.

Duck does not tuck it in.
Dredge she will for the least and lift it too.
Sinister chuckles she cackles at, what insolence!
Yet the vulnerability is unearthed any way.
Against the sun's glare little lingers,
Of the conceited ingenuity.
But why is being figured out such a scare?
There's some good in the simple too. Being cryptic, mysterious is great!
Ngamau Boniface Nov 2017
Doors close and shutters jam hard into frames.
Knobs stick and jambs cave in to seal the deal.
Unyielding pilgrims turn, push and shove with might,
And from afar, an aside is caught up in their games.
When in weary frustration poor pilgrims finally reel,
Despair hovers o'erhead to rest upon them from its flight.

Sweat, salty and sticky trickles tauntingly into mouths agape,
Those won't shut, not with the heaving sighs of breathlessness,
For nasal canals burn hot with a fire from within.
Though lucid lungs worn so feel like a heap,
An inferno whirls the blood within with a hiss,
And no word from any angel can that power contain.

Heart-stopping voltage courses continuously.
The door was open before it closed.
Someone made the door where all else was wall.
Ngamau Boniface Aug 2017
When he keeps reciting in the head
Dripping drops to the same spot
All the while yearning to move instead
But there stuck in a struggle without respite
He yearns for a glory unfading.

Doing and not doing never were the sufficiency of law
Dusk drew a dull drapery over the light
Beauty turned dreary and his heart sunk low
Twas a high price at which he was bought
A man hang on a hill that day

Love slew the sly intentions of fear
Smiting to tender pulp
Jesus is Lord ye hear
In whom he found hope
I'm saved because He loved me.
Doing right does not earn us merit before God.
It cannot begin to atone for our wretchedness.
Ngamau Boniface Mar 2017
Of all his Majesty's chilling indifference,
The remarkable unrelenting poise of power and purpose,
Of the uncondescending unerring count of ticking time,
This universal Clock has given life its chime.

One after another of yet another they have bowed,
Humble to the greatly able master they've sighed,
Reclining in their inners in conquered concession,
While the Count in keeping count has clocked each's session,
And given each man their due.

But with it, what did, do, will they do?
...that I may know how to count my days.
  Oct 2016 Ngamau Boniface
Teach her not feminism
but femininity

for as she finds herself
only then,
rapt in purpose

she will know
what is worth fighting for
  Oct 2016 Ngamau Boniface
Philosophy is art they say
And only those who paint it
Brush with truth
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