David N. Munene Poems

It is I oh dear Lord that turned away
Your goodness is perfect and enough
No wonder Hell stands in my very way
...

For I am Catholic, cut out to the core
Remolded through catechism; head to toe
No apologies should I make,
‘cept for re-crucifying Christ
...

Some silence is deafening
Some silence feels vengeant and weakening
Some silence is like a thundering
That cuts throught the skies roaring
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She was a woman of plight
A heart of pure delight
Too many saw in her light
But now she is challenged;
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I shall celebrate you, Gilbert
I shall celebrate you
Even under the darkness of grief
I shall celebrate you
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A human being suspects
That all humans are suspects
And when a human being respects
They hope for retrospects
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For the World unwillingly
Africa toiled not sparingly
Like locusts in a leafy field
Africans worked without sunshield
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A man shaken
Perhaps not yet beaten
Paws shake like tree-tops
Roving in the winds like small cops
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What is another man's victory or loss
That little man of some meager status
Should overlook the value of life in another
Or the treasure in good relations with the other
...