in Poetry

Tuesday 8 September 2020


Disclaimer: The poetry is not an attempt to explain the artwork. This will just be me writing whatever poetry came to me when I looked at the artwork.

Today we will be exploring the awesomeness that is Jamilla Okubo. I saw her Art on Pinterest and I was in absolute awe. Her art, in my opinion, is a raw and defined mix of Afro, colour and culture. Her painting calls you, mirrors your thoughts and leaves you wondering. It gives you a feel-good sense of adventure and wishes you into resonation. I want to say maybe it's just my eyes, but I know it's not. Jamilla is simply amazing.

Jamilla Okubo's Bio

Jamilla Okubo is a mixed-media and interdisciplinary artist exploring the intricacies of belonging to an American, Kenyan, and Trinidadian identity. Combining figurative painting, pattern/textile design, fashion, and storytelling, she celebrates the Black body in relation to movement, expression, ideology, and culture. Inspired by kanga cloth, which communicates messages derived from Swahili proverbs, quotes from the Qur’an, African folklore and popular culture, Okubo creates her own patterns in reference to the history, mythology, and vernacular of the African diaspora. 

A fusion of Jamilla Okubo's Artwork and my Poetry

Jamilla okubo

Body lingua

I soak my loneliness in wetness 

And it is unable to dry,

 I knock my knees together 

To silence the lips in between my legs.

I pretend not to understand its language 

When our bodies scrape past each other in the lobby.

Jamilla Okubo art

Last supper

Many hands to one bowl

That was my home,

Was how I knew that 

Boiling grain long enough 

Will let it swell into satisfaction.

Was how I knew eating meat was funeral,

Our mouths could not suck on marrows 

Or chew flesh

Unless God struck something dead

And left it decaying in the backyard.

Was how I knew my mother to be a starving woman 

Calculating & observing, 

Marinating the meal in her saliva 

Until my father swallowed his piece. 

Jamilla okubo x dior

The cycle

You will understand

Your mother's Night vigils, 

Her paranoia 

Her annoying dotting & scolding 

Her firmness

Her unsolicited advice & everything

When you watch your daughter

Becoming herself

By reliving episodes of your past mistakes. 

You will call her at your feet

With confusion & anger,

You will ask questions you already know the answers to

You will try to fix unfixable things 

Make calls to whatever is trying to

Turn your child into a bone of loss,

You, this same you 

Will take a page from your mother's book 

To close a chapter of your daughter's vacuum. 

This is us

Maybe we are a brainwashed generation

Maybe we have become too fizzy & unorthodox for regular reasoning

Maybe we are all the things they say we are

Crazy - rebel - doomed!

We have vomited status quo

Trampled conformity underfoot

Decided to live happy and free

On our own risky terms.

We have apologised to our parents

Forced them to bury their expectations

Because we would rather parent plants & cats

Than produce people who will inherit our problems

Maybe this is us

Wanting to relax and be taken care of

Wanting everything in the bag secure

Wanting the table, the seat and the whole room

If this is us

Is it really such a bad thing?

Let my body burn

I want the type 

Of love

that feels 

Like voodoo 

Something enchanting

that will make me fall 

Head over heels 

In touch with my emotions


I want to be bent 

In positions 

that break my 

Bones into rainbows

Twist my nerves 

Into gummy bears 


I want the type of love 

that calls me home 

raises my moans 

Above pitches & 

Let's it go up like incense 


I want this love that 

Lights up my soul

With a match 

Of sensation 

And doesn't care if 

My body Burns 

In ecstasy


Did you know that Jamilla designed the book cover for An American Marriage  by Tayari Jones

An American marriage by Tayari jones

Read my review of the book here

What was your favourite poem/artwork from this post?

Tuesday 21 July 2020


I am haunted by the cries of the dead
And the struggles of the living, 


I am scared of home, 
The one place i find serene,
Away from the temper of the scorching sun, 
The stench emitted from the heart of men,
And every other rotten breaks 
Evolved from the surface of genesis. 

The soles of my feet are never perceived
By the soil of blood and water
Unless my shanty runs out of supplies. 

My simplicity entices the eyes of the mysterious,
And my life, a pandora's box. 

I am haunted by the cries of the dead
And the struggles of the living, 
Their voices have now become
An entertainment to my ears. 

My stare says i love you,
Her smile says i love you too.
Words weren't said


The sky almost white.
Traces of blue.
A sunny day.
We sit side by side
Like Simba and kopa
Watching the sunset.

My lungs fill with O2
Mixed with cologne
And a glass of fine wine.

The atmosphere blends so fine
I could feel my legs swing
To a rhythmical pattern.
Her legs swing too.
The view from up here spells poetic.
Men, women and children play in the water,
Running to shore each time the sea gets too excited.
Flocks of birds take off from trees,
Racing against each other like a medal awaits the first runner.
My stare says i love you,
Her smile says i love you too.
Words weren't said.

Poetry on lonliness

I am like an adopted puppy secluded from the love of the mother and roof of the father.


I am without mother and father,
The last of my kind.
The circle of love that surrounds me dwindles away along with the dance of the wind.
My world slumps like an angel stripped of its wings into a space filled with solitude,
Gently choking in it like a wrecked ship,
Slowly losing the sight of light, consumed by the fog of darkness. 
I am like an adopted puppy secluded from the love of the mother and roof of the father.
I hear the echo of what sounds like the voice of my mother. 
My name radiating from all corners of the earth, round and round.
Take me by the hand, your father is waiting for you; the voice said.
I am like a sadly terrified puppy lost in the middle of the woods, 
Dying to run back into the warm arms of the mother. 


Young poets

How did this poem make you feel?
What was your favorite Poem from the collection and why?
You can connect with the Poet on
Instagram @the.chokolate.guy

Monday 15 June 2020


Love birds

Is this really poetry?
Or just an attempt to make lines rhyme?
         I'm just trying to share my story freely
Tell a tale of an experience that was mine.

It's not about feminism or racism 
Or any other important topic of discussion
But about the pangs of heartbreak,
It's spasms 
 the joy of a heart free from tension.

            We were close in Senior High 
The real thing, nothing highly sensual 
We talked and laughed
                     such chemistry I can't deny 
Because even now I know it was mutual.

One thing led to another 
I called it quits 
                  torn between decisions 
I explained it had nothing to do with her 
                              My inner conflicts were the cause of that condition.

Years later we got back in touch 
Getting close again  
                       I felt a lingering guilt 
My love had more substance.

Call me old-fashioned or conservative 
I never had a thing for social media 
Felt it was mentally and socially degenerative 
                                       But for her
I got on Facebook with my little Nokia.

Love continued, like a sweet fairy tale 
Our chats - a bit one-sided 
 I didn't really care.
"I don't chat much on Facebook, it's going stale"
             Was her beauty blinding or was I just overlooking my fears?

'I'm in the area, are you around?'
"I'm not feeling well, maybe next time"
no problem, I could tell from your voice"
                 No need to ask which line was mine. 

I was expecting an Android 
 I didn't tell her.
Me, anti-social media guy of yesterday.
Getting on WhatsApp felt cool ice cream 
Smearing a burning desire
                  This chase had changed me.

  I got my phone          Oh God!                   
                      such happiness 
Do I really need to charge it before use?
Impatience was a balm for past
 pain & disappointment.
           Deafened by joy and laughter 
        I couldn't hear the truth.   

Three nights before
   We had a long call 
Romantic, reaffirming and love-sure 
Is sitting on the fence always this sweet before the fall? 

New to WhatsApp
She was first to receive my text 
'Hello or whatever you say when you're new' 
My naivety on the platform 
wasn't covered by any pretext
   "Sorry I can't do this" 

Shaking hands        deleted my                             &
 Opened a new one 
                 Rattled, I apologized for going blank
Asked if she was serious
Because she could tell a mean joke.

A couple of heartrending chats later 
  Then an 'I owe you no explanation' that wasn't shy 
My WhatsApp experience was traumatized and shattered.

Six months I bled 
     Even prayed to not develop hate 
At least I'm proud no one knew or heard 
          My painful ordeal or its wearing weight.

Was it payback?     Was it karma?
I was not the best, clear fact 
But I knew I deserved better.

  I grew and healed 
My heart was never bone
                but it had really fractured 
But I had changed 
Never again would I be insulted 'immature'.

Long boring story short 
     Women are not scum, neither are men 
Though we might have got hurt 
We grow and we learn

 My hurt is fading 
the pain almost is gone 
I am pretty much one of the coolest guys that'll come your way 
If you ask if I've forgiven and moved on 
    I don't know till meet her again
So is this really poetry?
Or just an attempt to make lines rhyme?
Well, I'm just trying to share my story freely and honestly 
To tell a tale of an experience
                       that was once mine.
This poem was written by Bob. If you have had a similar experience, please share in the comments. Bob will be there to chat with you.
Bio- I'm a blogger and a mobile photographer. I want to share my art, views and perspectives with the world and interact with as many other wonderful ones as well. I'm also interested in traveling, anime and food of all kinds and cultures. I'm genuinely interested in people, healthy relations and self-improvement. You are sure to expect a wonderful and different experience with me. Visit for my content My IG handle - bobgeoffrey2 Cheers guys

Love birds

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