David Munene wa Kimberly
Biography of David Munene wa Kimberly
Born in Kalimoni Hospital in Thika District (formerly Kiambu District; now Kiambu County) in Central Kenya, as the fifth born in a family of six, poetry is a passion and not a profession.
Currently, I am the volunteer Programs Manager for the Catholic Youth Network for Environmental Sustainability in Africa (CYNESA) headquartered in Nairobi, Kenya.
I owe my inspiration to my only eternal love, Carol (my Perfect Aphrodité) and the providence of God through nature, situation and circumstance.
Daddy to the adorable Raphael Munene and Nicholas Macharia.
If only I could publish one, then I would...
David Munene wa Kimberly Poems
The heights of passion Heighten the heights of action Deepening the height of destruction And destructing the actions of construction
Africa And Africa’s
Have seen little of history unfold I know that one thing will always be Africa will be, But what is Africa’s may never be
Christ Vs Herod On Palm Sunday
When He set off for the journey He knew it wasn't about the money Unlike a be, He wasn't after honey For the Sun would have shone like yesterday
Down The Aisle
She walked down the aisle By him indeed she walked By him indeed she walked
You Don'T Read Africa
Never have you ever sat Or beneath African Suns lay flat You insist on rumours fat Liken to a rainy day's door mat
Downpour In Town
Rains reign in town So heavily falling down In speed than rocket's Every man pockets
Tears We Cry
Tears we cry, tears we cry Sometimes tears Kalahari dry Tears we cry, tears we cry
My Easter Grief
That I feel the pain Christ felt when I wasn’t there Yet I feel not the pain that I inflict on my neighbor when s/he’s here That I am going to be feasting
Urban Time Vs. Rural Time
3 am: Urban time: Alarm clocks, hoots and toots Rural time: Cocks crow, cows moo and weavers beaker
Africanize Africa [sestina]
That Heaven must be this far When Africa needs it desperately Whilst Africans are for blood hungry For none other than black blood
Evil, Oh Lord [villanelle]
It is I oh dear Lord that turned away Your goodness is perfect and enough No wonder Hell stands in my very way
I Am Catholic
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
She was a woman of plight A heart of pure delight Too many saw in her light But now she is challenged;
The heights of passion
Heighten the heights of action
Deepening the height of destruction
And destructing the actions of construction
Subtraction is not an option of action
Friction might in passion be fiction
Oh passionate passion for a person
How do you impersonate with irritation?