Punctuation Less

I clearly understand
the reason why u are leaving
but that doesn't make it
any easier to bare

i cant wipe the last tear
from my eyes because
am yet to see the first
perhaps its the magnified pain

you will never fully understand
how deeply my heart feels for you
i worry that as you go
we will grow apart
and ill end up losing you

when i think of how an
African woman should be
its you that i first think of
my friend
perhaps its because you are beautiful
young and match mature

my text is poorly punctuated
it has no commas full stops
no brackets
and thats how av learned
to think about u
that is with no pause
just imagine when u will be gone

will i ever stop
no question mark
no full stop

i encourage people to be strong
but i feel weakest
unfortunately u might not feel
the same way 
thats how unfare the world is my friend
with no punctuation

www.poemhunter.com/frank-okoth/

CHANGING TIMES

The strong tides have changed direction
the wind is blowing the other way too,

How about the woman who set out for the market at dawn,
and her husband too, are they not homing?

How about the herdsman, how about his herds,
is he not not in escort of them, homing?
Is solstice not homing too?

And what about the tree, that giant tree, that tree of old,
the Late "Mugumo Tree', the one the other week,

what about it?  
www.poemhunter.com/frank-okoth/

THE DEATH OF 'BINGO'

Saa, saa, saa' silence
All that time was calling out Puppy,
So it was the late!
And the wagging tail was gone!
'saa, saa, saa' sadness in the morning

Guilty me, where was I!
Your body i wont bury, refuse to dig for
Your skin i need see, till decay
Your stench i need smell, wanna breathe
Your bones i should keep,
A memory of you at a time
All memories of you all the time

 'Saa, saa, saa' silence
All that time was calling out Puppy,
So it was the late!
And the wagging tail was gone!
'saa, saa, saa' silence then sadness!
  www,poemhunter.com/frank-okoth/'

DEATH

If my life would halt before I wake,

Perhaps that would be our last meet.

And my mother would be helped by other

mothers to wail over my demise

then my friends would want to

close their eyes and open their voices.

perishing if I do,

uncertain of everlasting life,

heaven or hell is still unclear,

perhaps death is death after all,

and the soil be me and I part of it

never to see darkness of day, light of night

if my peoples eyes shall weep and bleed for a week,

perhaps with a dry cry we shall part hoping to meet again.

A Poem in 114 words

Yesterday I saw you

As you sang Halleluiah

Halleluiah praising the most high

For the good he has done for you

Today you are at the optimum of your voice

Lamenting, blaming God for your misfortunes

Instead of reflecting upon your present blessings

Of which you possess in plenty

Tomorrow is eagerly awaited

Anticipated for, to see the

Turn of events after the day dawns

Until the sun rests in the evening

When you cry, shed tears, wail

 For your loved one is late

Will you drink poison?

Forever is still unclear

Shall halleluiah! Halleluiah! still be heard?

Will you firm and faith yourself when disaster

and temptations call?

Make me not your scapegoat

Your sacrificial lamb!

A NOTE BY THE BEDSIDE

That I come from the holy church

With all those good spirits

And the first thing I meet are

Beings having or almost sexing

Saddest of it, on the only bed

And almost sit in your house.

When will you ever learn?

“do you know what the thigh of a woman can cost you”?

Were these not your words?

Don’t turn your house into a brothel!

Every good that was and is to happen

To you will be withheld with God through Christ .

I got annoyed and left

I will call you and come soon.

Your house is not a brothel, is it?

Thanks for the accommodation, am grateful my friend.

Yours truly ; FRANK

MADNESS & SANENESS

He twists and turns on mad

The man is a madman

Go turn and twist yourself on mad

See if you won’t run mad

That madman has been there

Since you were born

I want to be a madman

For men into madness never die

For even sickness fears madness

Because that madman has never

Been sick since you were born

 Make me run mad

But if madness is sickness itself

Never make me run to madness

The madman pays no taxman

Has no business with the rent-man

Food for thought not a meal

for the mad him

He who makes men mad

Should make me one

Has the mad man in your area

grown old and grey?

The one I know has no grey

On his head

He has remained as young for he ran mad

Why don’t you make me run insane

For insane men and madmen

Live better and longer than sane men and we-men