Jacinta Nabakooza

Jacinta Nabakooza Poems

Whose graves these are I think I know.
Their bodies are rotten 6 feet deep. though;
They will not see me stopping here
To envy their graves furnished up with turf and moss.
...

Wings I flight in heavens blue
And clouds I hug to sleep
And sky of high was but empty
That yielded with the cry_
...

The truest woman that ever eyes
beheld at their deepest joy,
Made each hand, in busiest a day
The dearness of being capable.
...

Dear Age,
How are you friend?
So vast is the space between us.
Look! I am now a minute old.
...

The sun's down yet night falls in so elegantly
Long, the clock will crawl
For sometimes on nights like this
the stars suspend above
...

The day we shall part ways
Will come like a rainbow
which no weather forecast can foretell.
That day swift like lightening
...

And if love was ever real
It'd have chiseled us blissfully
In the fantasies of our young dawn
And bondly sealed us as soulmates.
...

If I was a boy,
I would pluck flowers
every dawn,
gift them to my sweet mama
...

Jacinta Nabakooza Biography

University student Poet, writer And Secondary teacher)

The Best Poem Of Jacinta Nabakooza

Stopping By The Graveyard On A Lonely Evening.

Whose graves these are I think I know.
Their bodies are rotten 6 feet deep. though;
They will not see me stopping here
To envy their graves furnished up with turf and moss.

My young boy must think it bizarre
To stop by and begrudge dead men
Between the twilight and the midnight fright
The gloomiest night of the year.

He lifts his head up in wonder
To ask if there is any bewilderment.
The only sound's the sweep
Of the mutuba trees and windy weather.

The graves are charming, peaceful and black.
But I have obligations to make.
And journeys to go before I lay slack.
And days to glow before I sink.
-Jacinta Nabakooza

Jacinta Nabakooza Comments

Jacinta Nabakooza Quotes

'His eyes with mine can easily say what our lips cannot pronounce.'

He was the first boy to love me; but at that time, I had not yet learned the 'Art of Love'. Now that my heart knows how to feel for him, Dad is not here to be loved by me.

Everything begins with when you call him just a friend, then, slowly the eyes catch a passion, the heart learns not to disagree with what you're seeing and then what? You love him! But he thinks you are just his friend.

And when he said Love to him was when he met me and passion when we kissed, I knew he lied but I liked the lies anyway.

'All hearts think that when they break, they never can mend until they learn to relearn how they learnt to love at first in order to love again.'

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