David N. Munene Poems

Learn to celebrate victories in hand
And silently hope for victories at hand
For that which is not in hand
Might soon be victory out of hand
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I have insulted love
Called it what it isn't
Buried it alive
And left, top and right tossed it
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Death has began to live
And life is no longer alive
For love has become death
And death my love
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As you drift into the life after sleep,
May you follow angelic paths
And experience heavenly rest
For whence a goddess sleeps,
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I took a glimpse into the past,
I couldn’t help but be mesmerized so fast
The man uttered in accordance to his grey hair
With a purity untold as of fresh jungle-green air
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The sweetest melody may not have the sweetest beat
The sweetest beat may not have been the best hit
The brightest shine may not be the hottest after all
The hottest shine may not be the brightest overall
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In the 'warmth' of Winter
She curled me in her glory like shiny Jupiter
I shivered in the warmth without breath
She held me with tenderness like a wreath
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Situations that bring into being the foreseen
Can only be credited for their being seen
When man has chosen another way to begin
His journey is either a step or a fly
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The back page can't quite tell
What the front page gave a yell
If it were hurt, the owner is there
The preceding page is here
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His name has been Prat
He will always be... Prat
Since he was young he's been a brat
Or at least perceived to be a brat
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