I have always said that I only write poetry when I am stressed, depressed or in love, and that I write my best poetry when I’m all three. It’s so much easier to write a downy poem than a gladdy one. Which probably means Mwaura should be a fabulous muse…

I have an acute case of rejectionitis. Or, to make it sound a little more credible, let’s call it a rejection complex. And because of that, I tend to attract … it. And to see it when it’s not there.

The cure for that simple. Fix my root chakra, change my train of thought, get over it, snap out of it.

Baby steps love, baby steps.

And so this, my first step is to write a happy poem – possibly my first happy poem ever.

Yes I am stressed, yes I’m in love, and yes, mwaura just might be peeping over my shoulder here, but today, I wish to write a happy poem. Enough with the blues, it’s so last season.

In the arms of my love I find rest

he holds me tight on days so long.

In the arms of my love I find peace

he shuts the world outside

and whispers me a song, his voice so hoarse.

In the arms of my love I find joy

he dries my tears with hands so large, so hard, so scarred.

In the arms of my love I find…

love

So wide, so deep, so true.

Dearest Dimples, Darling Sailor,

How truly I love you.

See, that wasn’t so hard now was it.

♫ No more drama ♫ Mary J Blige ♫

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i lost my friend today

and i don’t know how to get him back;

i lost my innocence today

impaled on a shaft of brutal ‘truth’.

they say truth is relative,

and relative is never free;

in all relative truth,

it’s better to give than to receive.

‘honesty’ breeds freedom

in the heart of him that gives it;

its blade untangles chains of lies

unwinds webs of deceipt:

and yet to him that hears it,

the tangled strings do bind.

the chains fall off the teller

and bind the ears of him that takes.

i care not that i am hurting-

only that i hurt you!

please forgive me.

please be my friend again.

love, me.

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