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Aug 11 · 30
Meet me
brian odongo Aug 11
Meet me.

Meet me where the sun rains
and the rain shines,
Meet me, where the summers are freezing
and winters are melting.

Meet me where the winds are still,
and rivers flow upwards,
Where puddles are deep,
And oceans are shallow.

Meet me where the seas are fresh
and the lakes are salty,
Where in cemetry there's party
and orchestra there's mourning.

Meet me where the moon is yellow,
And the sun is grey,
Where age is constant,
And kids don't age.

Meet me at the end of the world,
I'll be waiting,
In a green field,
On a white horse
And you shall know though nature changes
My love will be forever unchanged.
Mar 2018 · 410
A sonnet on love
brian odongo Mar 2018
Love is a beautiful seed
growing in a field of weeds
Love is a rose in a garden of thorns
Its pickers  endure ****** and scorns
Love blossoms hope in all seasons
Though sometimes fear  give reasons
Love is a plant that forever grows
Even in pitch darkness it glows
A rose crushed produces a sweet balm
Love tested is like a well written psalm
A plant  flourishes  in a fertile farm
Our hearts is the soil where love work its charm
poetry is far more beautiful than prose
So let's our love endure forever unlike a rose
Feb 2018 · 572
We lit a flame
brian odongo Feb 2018
We lit a flame in an opaque  world
Not from wood but from a  candle
For woods sparkles bright
But produce ashes that cause blight
But candles melts to produces a stronger wax
Such is our flame burning to only reproduce a greater love
We lit a flame that first set our hearts on fire
And the fire spreads and then put our whole soul a blaze
Our flame is not shaken by violent winds
But it sways side by side dancing even to its violent  rhythms
Hand in hand ,heart in heart we lit a flame
A flame that does not burn down but builds up
A flame that that light our own souls and other souls too
For such is a candle it burns not for its own sake
Jan 2018 · 301
A tale of love
brian odongo Jan 2018
A tale of love
Brian Odongo.

Countable times in history
Two separate lives become one story
Such as was between Jacob and Rachel
A tale more beautiful than a fable

A tale not as a result of fate
But a plan in divine date
A tale of two hearts
That cannot be torn to parts

Even by ink it can only be faintly described
But in their hearts it is masterfully inscribed
A tale that lives for generations
And defies all common expectations

Such is my tale with this fair Lady
Fairest than the beautiful daisy
The only beloved daughter of her father
And the joy of the family when they gather

She is of rare charm and mind
“A virtuous woman who can find? "
Her heart is most pure
Her smile every pain cure

Seasons before us seem so long
But each day will be filled with a love song
Then all the rounds and bends of time
Will be far much worth than countless dimes

Not every step forward will be simple
But happenstances will not our love dwindle
For our tale of love  is not just a normal  ritual
But this tale that we coauthor is forever habitual

And if life be long and youth turn to old age
We will make more beautiful every page
And this by divine grace shall be our tale
That even time will not turn stale
May 2017 · 2.0k
Music of the stars
brian odongo May 2017

Today the night sky shines bright
As though to mock the moon
That each eventide arises
Taking the mantle from the sun
All united in an assignment
To light the way for earthly treaders
The radiant stars endlessly move
Age to age whispering its great adventures
Tis music of the stars
Singing of the past,present and future
Singing of a long past left in traces of unwritten history
Singing of the presence experienced by the audience
Singing of a future concelead to mortal eyes
Tis the music of the stars

The inaudible lyrics of the stars
That need no lute nor lyre
To sooth the listeners' heart
The grace of the 'heavenly singers'
Like a spell enchants the audience
Its glory inspires the astronomer
Its music moves the poets hand
Tis the music of the stars
Singing to the 'deaf' mortal
Singing how like a porcelain his life is brittle
Singing how his life is brief at its best
Tis the music of the stars

The music of the stars :
Tis a melody that wanes
Like a script come to an end
Tis a rhythm that diminishes
The beats slowed by the dawning day
Tis a harmony that disaccords
Like a string broken from the harp
Tis the music of the stars
Singing comfort to the lonely seafarer
Singing hope to the night pilgrim
Singing praises to the night watcher
The 'night singers' leave the stage
The morning stars echoes the refrain
Tis the music of the stars.
Inspiration gotten from being at night on a country side
Dec 2016 · 946
A vision backwards
brian odongo Dec 2016
On new year eve when the sun on the west hung low
And the east wind on dead leaves blow
I paced to the yellow woods
And sat on my favourite wood
Where not long after I fell into a trance
Not of any divine trace
But a dream from my person
And I saw a vision backwards:
365 days ago, not long ago
I was on the same spot
For the familiar new year ritual
That of writing my aspirations
My fickle fingers wrote my dreams on the hard earth
On the passing sands of time
But no traces of them was left
Perchance carried by the furious wind
To the store house of wasted words
I continued in the vision backwards
When I heard a voice from me saying
" Don't write your dreams on sand
Write them on your heart "
I woke from my short trance
When the crimson moon was awake above
And the night owl hooting echoed through the woods
Left the woods without performing my ritual
Because i heard a vision backwards
" Don't write your dreams on sand
Write them on your heart."
Dec 2016 · 1.0k
An ode to old lady poetry
brian odongo Dec 2016
Deaf beethoven heard thy symphony
Genius Michelangelo from a rock curved thee
Blind Homer saw thy comely figure
Davinci painted thee superior to Mona Lisa

Ancient Greeks on papyrus praised thee
Today's poets on books we sing of thee
Time turn all beauty and beasts to ashes
But thou ancient lady like a phoenix rises from the dust
Nov 2016 · 377
Iam a poet
brian odongo Nov 2016
Iam a poet
I pull the stars with a string
I shoot the moon with a sling
I form an hurricane with an ink
I make roses stink

Iam a poet
My pen is my favourite toy
With it I prevent Homer's troy
I sell hope through humour
Even when all you have is a tumour

Iam a poet
Reality is my latest fiction
Not forgetting my diction
Mostly I write my mind
Though some find it not kind
brian odongo Oct 2016
What happens to the rose when it dies?
When it is chocked by its thorny foes
Does it green blood soak the earth to water more plants of love?
Do its crimson leaves fold their petals in pain?

What happens to the rose when it dies?
By the hands of a stray lover in search of a gift
Do the lovers drain all their tear wells?
Perhaps they merry as its mortal remains
Passes from his hand to her hand, from his heart to her heart

What happens to the rose when it dies?
Is it ever eulogized and its memorials held
Or is the emblem of love left in pile ash of bygone?
Is the rose ever buried and how does its epitaph read?

What happens to the rose when it dies?
Does it body like man’s decay leaving nothing but dry bones?
Is it folded and placed inside an old love book?
Who knows what happens to the rose when it dies?
Sep 2016 · 6.7k
my perfect poem
brian odongo Sep 2016
You were my perfect poem
Brief but of many lessons
Our life was the perfect paradox
For love I thought we could rhyme

You hated all I ever loved,I loved all you hated
You said dirt was clean and the sun was cold
You desired tears for years
And resisted all advances of happiness

All you hated I had to forsake
For our love was at stake
But like a toddler you had fun with my feelings
Leaving our blindest love in darkness reeling

Yet my greatest victory was losing you
My severest pain was my sweetest gain
You schooled me through experience
My all-time worst teacher

You were my perfect poem
Eternity would be short to describe the undescribable
For when my hand is strong to hold the pen
Then my heart is weak to pen the words
Sep 2016 · 1.2k
finding love
brian odongo Sep 2016
I know not where I shall find love
By the foots of the mountain or on the plains of clove
Where the oak trees shed their green blades on the brown grass
Perchance by the deserted road where lays the heap of trash

I know not when I shall find love
During spring when April showers bring may flowers
When wintry chilling cold bites the white earth
When the woods glow of amber in the hearth

I know not how I will find love
Through divine appointment or by strove
Whether from a recent friend or a foe of past days
May be from stranger met by labyrithine ways

I know not why I will find love
Whether possessed passions will cause me to move
To seek the friendship of some lovely lass
May be just another ritual of life to pass

Whether in known or unknown places
Whether in familiar or strange faces
Whether time is constant or flies like a dove
I one day shall find love
Sep 2016 · 1.3k
life at 2 and 22 years
brian odongo Sep 2016
When I was two years old
The sun was just ball of fire that in the sky rolled
The full moon was a round stone in the dark sky
I knew mum and dad would never say bye
The kindergarten teacher taught kids were bought
Many of our favorite heroes were mostly cops
Every guy behind bars was a dangerous criminal
And what the minister stood for was biblical
All who went to church had no stain
Friends would never cause us pain
We enjoyed playing with dirt
Many times fell from tree and were hurt
We knew our leaders would bring peace
And our childhood fancies would never cease

Today with radiance I turned twenty and two
Our nearest star was full of radiance too
The spring night was lit with moon rays
Mom and dad could not agree so they parted ways
My friend had a baby girl with his bride
And our cops executed law according to tribe
The civil right activist was wrongfully convicted
The ministers no longer care for those afflicted
My pagan neighbor and parishioners are all the same
And for my latest pains my friends are mostly to blame
The doctor said dirt was the cause of my diseases
And I had to avoid it to reduce my medical fees
Our politicians masterminded our newest wars
And adulthood came early with too many chores
Wrote this on my twenty second birthday. How I view the world had greatly changed how I used to see it when I was just two years old
brian odongo Aug 2016
She slept still on the cold bed
Her fragile frame was forever fixed
The sullen smile on her frown face
Crowned her earthly end
An emblem of victory gained in demise

The somberness of the ominous knell
Ushered in the undertaker for his task
To amass his masters latest loot
Fallen along the weary long way
A rose bruised before its bloom

The lamentations of the little lass
The groan of the grey gentleman
The solemn sympathy of a stranger
The clergy’s confession of her circumstances
All a label of a life led in liaison

The strongly sealed sepulcher
Bears the remains of her mortality
The epitaph on it concise as her life
A testament of her times to lingering legs
On rock engraved on hearts chronicled forever

The worms that merry on corpses
Shall soon party for their spoil
That skin so tender shall decay
From this world she carried eternal hope
And though she is dead she shall live.
it is an elegy written in memory of a childhood friend who died at a tender age.
Aug 2016 · 5.2k
an adventure
brian odongo Aug 2016
My heart yearns for an adventure
For a strange and rare venture
Oblivious of the tons of dangers
For in adventures I ain’t a stranger
For I would relieve childhood years
That I spent with my little peers.

An adventure in distant lands
Where the children play with wet sands.
And dolphins jump out of water
When the noon sun makes the ocean hotter.
Where the fisherman yaw his boat
To capture all the salmon afloat.

An adventure by the oasis in the Sahara desert
Where Tuaregs sit by the cactus to eat dessert.
And watch as scorpions prey on lizards
To feast on their gizzards.
I want day sun to warm my smooth skin
And the night cold to shiver my crude chin.

An adventure cuddling cold snow on my hand
Where the icy pillars in their majesty stand.
And make a cave of snow
Strong to stand when wind blow.
Then I will scare the polar bear
That my cave like a paper wants to tear.

An adventure on the corn field
When in summer the flowers yield
When the butterflies pollinates the corns
And the farmer weeds out the thorns
I want to watch the corn spring to life
When the early rain is rife

An adventure across the sky in a plane
And watch as daylight slowly wane.
I want to leave a route on the sky
That in the future I would still ply.
Then immortalize my name in the cloud
That dark clouds in their anger cannot shroud.

An adventure deep in the amazon woods
When the purple squirrel burrow for food.
Where the monkey sway their tails
And red roses litter narrow trails.
I want to watch the ants builds their mounds
As the ripe mangoes fall on the ground.

An adventure that will lead to places
Leaving on all its paths my traces.
Permanents prints that will last
Even when my life like history is past.
And my adventure would be told as a tale
That like time will not stale.

— The End —