What is it about sad poems,
or poems about love,
which are often melancholic,
that I love so much,
well for a non-alcoholic,
I need an escape,
cause I sin,
and I bleed,
and it's always my fault,
but when I'm writing,
my pen bleeds,
and these lines don't judge,
the page has no choice,
but to love me,
why would I come here when I'm happy,
no need to comfort someone with a smile.

what do i write
is it because i have nothing to write
or because i have a lot of things to write about
i just started to write just so i can fill the paper
and it's not empty
let me stop because i will fill the whole book and i have borrowed it
©Grace Njeri

There’s no post in the box
At the top of the drive.
The sun won’t write us
‘fore the clouds arrive.

Leaves and plastic
Get caught in the rail.
We pull them out
So the gate won’t fail.

But who walks by
Or on bikes roam
Beyond the corner
From where we call home?

We can only hide far away
Behind the bougainvillea’s green,
In our bricks and glass,
In the spaces between.

And still no letter
And yet far better.

The sky lets off steam
Fireworks fill the air
They light up my corner
It's really not fair
Cuz I like to hide
Especially what's inside
But a summertime thunderstorm
Exposes all lies

Tonight,
I dread to sleep.
My fingers are restless,
they yearn to write,
but alas,
I have nothing to write.

It is not that I have been bled dry,
it is just I have not lived.
To sleep,
to live,
it seems that
I am unable to do either.

When I was born,
they had to cut my mother.
I guess it says a lot about me.
I don't quite fit in.

Give me a pen
and put it on my right hand,
I will write our story
with the right love,
so we have a new plan
to explore this journey.

All of poetry deserves to be written,
but so few of it deserves to be read.

it seems now my clouds are grey
incomplete thoughts that often tame the sky
calming the waters that wade in my eyes
as the sun kisses the sea
here I abide by the silence that waits for me
thinking it’s you in disguise
in my hands is where your heart lies
after filling your ears with my words
that leave you in a solitude of bliss
joyful noises fill the sound
my love for you becomes profound
I wander in the arms of the tainted truth
when all I wanted was proof

The memories have not yet passed
away, into an area I’ll forget. Awaiting
a time I feel fine, awaiting, always
waiting. Conscious that is no right
way to live. I’ll die anyway.