"muma" poems
ANG'O MOMIYO PINY MABOR? Agoyo erokamano Ne Nyasaye mosewara kuom tuoche,dhier kod masira.Kendo daher mar goyo erokamano gi chunya duto ne ji duto mosebedo ka konya kendo tala e yore mag rieko gi ngima.Ndikoni en achiel kuom weche masetemo mondo andik ne joherana kendo ji duto ma puonjore yore ngima kowuok kuom weche ma andiko . Nitiere ndalo moro mane asandora malit bang' akweda modhuro ,kendo ndalo mang'eny asetemo wuok kuom mibadhi gi masira go. Omiyo ne aneno kit dhano kane chandruok omako chunya,chandruok mar manyo rieko.Ji mangeny ne oweya kagiwacho ni gik matimo ok kare,ji matin ahinya emane obedo piny mondo owinj gimane chando chunya.Jogo duto agoyonegi erokamano. Omiyo kane andiko gigi chunya ne gombo mondo ji duto oyud rieko kawuok gi gik ma awacho gi. Ji mang'eny temo mondo oyud gik piny gi yore ma ok ber,an agoyo erokamano ne ruodha kuom taya e ler ka adimbora mondo abed ng'ato ma an kawuono. Andiko wechegi mondo uyud ler kowuok kuom puonjo madieri.Piny ka ok nyal res gi muma inyalo rese gi thum gi ndiko.Omiyo akao kinde mondo andik weche maneno ,ka pogo oganda e pinyka. An ajaote.Kik igoya lero nikech apogora gi mibadhi gi miriambo.Ruaka uru e chunyu,kendo ukao kinde uwinj weche matemo pimo. Ne Ji duto marito ndiko ma asebedo kandiko ndalo mane apondo e **** dhano,beduru mana gi kwe nikech chunya nikodu machiegni,aherou. -Synopsia mar Piny Mabor,Budding Dirt. "As an artist, I feel that we must try many things - but above all, we must dare to fail. You must have the courage to be bad - to be willing to risk everything to really express it all."-Budding Dirt My mind is a sea of monarch butterflies. That flutter, all hella haphazard and disordered. As delicate as rice paper. And impatient. No matter how I chase them. I cannot catch them. Because while I’m clomping through the brush, swinging a net and crushing the seedlings, they are dancing from flower to flower, unperturbed by my pursuit. Flittering in the sun like the skittish memory of a dream in the light of day'-Budding Dirt
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 1:35 AM UTC
White like the North
and the cold places on the earth
my great grandfather was fond of
over-proof *** and
caribbean sailor blue waves
His Nigerian goddess bore him
nine children
pretty little barefoot toffee skinned children
scampering through sugarcane fields
and tall tropical grasses
the lilting sound of their voices
playing on balmy breezes
My Aunt Glo remembers him well
strolling about with his switch and
stiff upper English lip
he governed the immense rural
Jamaican plantation in St. Elizabeth
around the end of the Nineteeth century
Everyone called him Pupa and his
wife Muma
I don't know much about Muma
except that her mother was an
enslaved person and that she
had to tolerate the insult of ritually
hiding her mixed children when
Pupa's mother, Lady Bush
flounced into town with her entourage
There is an old photograph of
the two of them:
Muma in white frock seated,
her eyes drooping brown sparrows
Pupa with his switch, pocket watch
and far away eyes
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 8:23 PM UTC