A Poet's Feast Poem by Kirabo Anthony

1
Down memory lane I'm compelled;
Somewhere in the distant lands,

That day, we banqueted for the lyric beauty,
To appreciate the critic at 80-

The bevy moved over the moon;
They hailed praises to the gods
And fumed disgust to society odds.

2
How I envied Kiguli's adoration for
Uncle Tim's mentoring.

When before the gurus, upon that podium,
She sliced the critic's irony-

Unfortunately, she was a wordsmith,
But the little of her mentor;
The word magician and a pen!

3
I drowned in the clouds of repetition
My nostril smelt the dust of symbolism
And I trembled at the storm of her diction

I cherished hundred tears of joy in my eyes
As she flicked Tim's rhetoric of laughter.

She was, but; a symbol of the media in Crazy Peter Prattles
And I perused for her head tie to joy-sob.

4
Down memory lane am compelled too;
The Pattern of dust on my eyes
was carried by Uncle Tim's Strange wind,
I met Patrick Mangeni not in Deception.

Oh my eyes clicked Chris W. Kirunda;
the ideal maker of the beautiful Elegy for Pio;
It brings back the thrill of music so
"writers never die."
Keeping Zirumu's whispers alive...

Footprints of the outsider dragged me to Julius Ocwinyo;
The non neo-colonial apparatus in the Pearl.

5
Austin Bukenya's voice
drummed my eardrum with a Madrigal;
A twinkling piano in I Met a thief,

With those stumbling words that told you
what the most naive, untutored ear wanted
with all the gulls around it...

And my soul was left roasting in Reflection,
Ayeta had lit.