Showing posts with label showcase. Show all posts
Showing posts with label showcase. Show all posts

September Poet of the Month Nomination : " SEDUCE ME" poem By Amua Vannessa Joan

 







Amua Vannessa Joan: A Poet with a Penchant for Wisdom


Amua Vannessa Joan, a rising star in the art of words and wisdom, is a vibrant and insightful poet hailing from Uganda. Currently, in her second year at Uganda Martyrs University Nkozi, where she is diligently pursuing a degree in Accounting and Finance, Amua's journey into the world of poetry has been a captivating one.

As nurtured at Mt. St. Mary's College, Namagunga, Amua Vannessa Joan's educational background reflects her commitment to academic excellence. Yet, it is her poetic prowess that truly sets her apart. With a deep love for poetry, Amua crafts verses that not only resonate but also challenge conventional thinking.

Her poem, "SEDUCE ME," is a testament to her unique perspective on modern relationships. Through this poem, Amua elegantly explores the complexities of attraction, emphasizing the significance of intellectual and emotional connections over superficial gestures. "SEDUCE ME" invites readers to reevaluate their understanding of courtship and highlights the beauty of genuine, meaningful connections.

Amua Vannessa Joan's poetic journey is a testament to her ability to blend intellect and emotion, creating verses that leave a lasting impact. Stay tuned for more from this talented poet as she continues to share her insights and wisdom through the art of poetry. And if you love her piece, leave your thoughts in the comment section to see her through as uoright's September Poet of the Month



SEDUCE ME Why am I still single? maybe my soulmate died, I don't know Maybe I don't have a soul you see, I grew up within the confines of books novels that tell me a gallant should treat a woman as a blooming flower weather her through the stages of growth, water her petals through I was taught a man seduces not through his words, mouth, or action; he seduces through her you see, my home library of books told me that a man should feel at home and be raised as his mother's son, not a gang star trying to make it through the streets I was taught to be seduced by my heart, not by thy hands slithering towards the garden of Eden Even the snake asked Eve for permission so you wonder why I am still single Seduce me developmentally, not with your masculinity or rather, let your brain muscles weigh as much as those on your arms and legs tell me about your future plans not how you're popular in the street of skirts, do you need help there? mentor me on mental health wealth accumulation ways of widening my reasoning You don't tell me about your betting escapades! or days spent being a menace to the hood! not cool! you see, I need you to tell me what you think about the weather, I prefer sunny days; they draw less your honey ways, I hate the cold; it makes you drowsy and wussy You see, talk to me about how much family means, not how you stand up to your father because adolescence finally paved the way for a boomerang voice, or how you detest your mama's ways because they make you feel young. I like mama's boys; they are trained to treat a woman like their own mama but be a mature mama boy you see, I want to know why you think that vanilla flavors are a whoop or why some movies don't deserve the rating they are accorded Let's talk about a moment spent under the rain or nights under the stars counting out imaginary lucky galaxies Let's talk of childhood memories that bond you to your roots, not your days spent in the white man's land; they don't make you any less of an African you see, seduce me by my heart, not thy hands hands that worship in holiness are welcome, as are those that gossip in loneliness, leading to weariness I am not attracted to them lips papering kisses across my skin turn me off if those lips didn't kiss the papers of excellence and hard work you see, your eyes should be the most beautiful pair but those same eyes are used to look into the souls of others, making empty promises seduce me with your confidence, look me in the eyes, I should see what lies behind, the articulation of words prompt enough to pump blood into my veins, a dictionary of words at the tips of your tongue, I say, hmm hmm, I like the sound of that though its meaning I know not, walking with a purpose posture held upright, you ooze power, that's the kind of seduction that wet my.. that wet my brain with fogginess You see, seduce me with your kind heart, not the pushover part, the one that knows more about empathy, not apathy. LITTLENESS. Amua Vannessa Joan

September Poet of the Month nomination , " BLACK " poem by Keem Patricia





 Keem Patricia: A Poetic Voice Celebrating Identity

Keem Patricia, a distinguished poet, and a proud student of law at Kampala International University, is a radiant and unapologetic voice in the world of literature. Hailing from Uganda, Keem's journey into the realm of poetry is a testament to her passion for self-expression and social commentary.

From Kampala International University, Keem Patricia's academic pursuits reflect her dedication to the pursuit of knowledge and justice. Yet, it is her poetic prowess that truly shines. She weaves words into verses that resonate deeply, addressing issues of race, identity, and self-acceptance with eloquence and power.

One of her remarkable poems, titled "BLACK," is a passionate celebration of her melanin-rich skin and a fierce challenge to societal norms. In this poem, Keem Patricia beautifully explores themes of pride, resilience, and self-love, inviting readers to embrace their true selves boldly.

Keem Patricia's poetic journey is marked by her ability to inspire and provoke thought through her verses. Her words are a testament to the power of poetry in challenging and reshaping perceptions. Keep an eye out for more of her poignant and thought-provoking works as she continues to make her mark in the world of poetry.
And if you love her piece, please leave your thoughts and comments below, to see her through as uoright's September Poet of the Month


BLACK KEEM PATRICIA


I find pride in this pigment called melanin.

I don't find it criminal to look

Like 12:30 pm past midnight... because

My skin looks the same—black like the night.


The dark clouds give you meaning for the night.

Even the moon shines brightest when the clouds

Are darker, and the stars stand out because

The night is black... so am sorry for not being sorry

To be black.


Who are you to go against scripture?

I was here first because the world was all black...

And let there be light, I was kind enough to share

My space with you... white.


I find it ridiculous... to buy acids, chlorine

To rub my skin... so that I sink the poison

Into my roots of black... all to be white.

Why would I want to be a copy when I am

An original... never compared... for white

Can never be black.


I refuse to only be a symbol of slavery

Of my forefathers... and an emblem of evil.

Even reverends' clothes are black...

If I am accepted in church... who are you?

Remind me... again... to find me unfit and not pretty.


Nelson Mandela was black... so I am

An emblem of purity and peace... strength,

Because champions in the ring...

Mike Tyson and Mayweather are black.


90% of Ugandans, Miss Uganda,

Rachel Nabtumbwe and Abenakyo are black.

Just to mention a few... so remind me what pretty is,

I seem not to understand.


Do I threaten you that much? Does my pigment

Offend you. I am sorry for being so unapologetic about that.


The seas have dark ages and in them,

The most beautiful creatures you will find,

Rare, beautiful creations are a wonder to the eye.

My skin type tells a story—of the past, the present,

And the future—a time capsule that runs through,

A loop of events—call me vintage.


KEEMPATRICIA SHEKING

19... And Other Things By Kasura


19... And Other Things



For a day... just 24hrs

More or less

I'm a different Person

With the same thoughts...


I'm Grateful for those hours..

Because I know that is all I'll ever get..

So I milk them of their last drop...

Drink it all in..



Then pause..

And it's all gone...

Because I'll Forever only get those hours...

And those hours will be my forever..

Only for that moment...


Kasura


"The Dark Streets" by Mujuni Edgar



"The Dark Streets" by Mujuni Edgar


Tip-tap I walk down
in a path that once flourished with life,
hope, happiness, and oneness.
In two, with both of us blinded
by our own fairytale whispers.
A bauble was born
to fill each other's spaces
and with our souls washed with assurance
and zero impossibility,
of ignored insecurity.
All flourished like weeds in the wild.


As the lights that were once flecking out
became brighter with the growing rhythm.
At each other's chest pumps that increase frequency,
at each other's presence.
Under the bright light, a hand is held,
and a sensational stare is on the faces of two.
Walking down the street,
at this point, many stare with admiration,
And from a distance, they say:
"Awwwww...
I wish I was more like them."


And a dry whisper is let loose,
for it has the eyes of the road ahead.
"Be careful, don't lose yourself,
for the time may be wasted and never compensated."
But all is embraced with the power of time,
and reality is left on hold,
It may seem like jumping off a cliff
and landing on feathers in a huge basket.


In the mist, to find happiness,
speeches like these are usually held,
in fear not spoiling the moment
that fate has put together.
But beautiful as it may seem,
it comes with a price to pay.
A wind later sweeps the streets,
and what was later bright becomes dim.

And the hands are left loose,
as it gets darker,
a storm washes the earth,
pouring its tears down.
One is left standing alone under this rain.
"Please understand me, I want to be alone.
I can't do this anymore."
And what was a basket of feathers,
becomes the hard ground,
and reality unveils its truth.

By Mujuni Edgar

I REMEMBER! By Sebastian




I Remember!


Do you remember,

That day when it was rumored

That his wealth and prosperity

Was a conduit to his death,

Death the leveler?

Do you recall that moment?

When he lay in his trench box bed,

Only waiting for delivery to his grave,

As his sons, daughters, and wife drew near

To drop earth on him with melancholy?


Do you,

Recall that very day

When all mankind murmured their plea,

"Thou' innocent, he has departed?"

A day when his bloody kinsmen,

The bloodthirsty son tiptoed

To drag the sword across

The widow's choking throat?


Do you

Remember the one moment

Of not requiem and nostalgic cause,

That saw him as a fulfillment

Of mortal oath?

Do you really

Endeavor to reflect

On that day when

The widow's in-laws scrambled

To have their brother's belongings

As consolation and comfort?


Do you imagine

The storm that was

A convoy for the couriers,

Stumbling hither and thither,

To rest him in tranquility?

Do you surely recall

The full day when

Foreign condolences

Were the Emcee,

Today's four-wheel?

Though you did nothing,

Do you remember?


Do you recall

The day when hypocrisy

Became the soothing lullaby

By the deceased's brothers

To their nieces and nephews,

Who then wriggled like maggots

On decomposing waste?

Do you make a recap?

Of that red day when

No hymn comforted

The widow,

And no literature read

For consolation?


He left but a father,

And yes, it is my last glance

At him that I remember

In distress!


LABASS SEBASTIAN DEGRO.