1.
I get depressed when I look
around me in our Kenyan schools. It is the same lethargy towards poetry as if
it were some form of a dinosaur that was placed right in the middle of our
Literature classrooms. What students forget is that poetry is not a punishment
disguised in an examination question but the rhythm of life.
2.
In this era where everything
is commercialised, I am usually asked why I haven’t published or why I don’t
want to cash in on my poetry. Being a skill, an art which must be nurtured, I
feel that I should continue applying my mind to writing poetry until such a
time when I won’t go to publishers but publishers will come to me.
3.
Of all the writing experiences
I have had so far, none excites my imagination than the art of writing poetry.
An idea froths in my mind, brewing up and spilling on my blog. I always feel
inclined to write a poem as if it was a sacred duty. Once a poem has been freed
from my mind and heart, then and only then, can I rest.
4.
When friends ask me where my
poetry will be in the next 10 years, I always put up a broad smile and tell
them that they don’t need to be anywhere in the next 10 years because once I
have written them they are immortalized.
5.
God in His wisdom gave me the
gift of writing poetry because He thought that my body and arms were not strong
enough to physically demonstrate the power of my words. It is a good deal. If
you come to think of it, a line of my poem can be a verb that can shake the
strongest of men, an adjective that can paint the saddest picture of a tyrant
and a conjunction to piece together the most scathing diatribe. But I don’t
intend my poems to be such but to soothe and encourage and motivate because
this world is full of so much pain that we don’t need to add more to it.
6.
I always pray to Tororot, the
God of the Rising Sun, that I should not lose the clarity of my vision. All
around me, I am filled with a lot of humour. While others are busy calling this
life dull, I find this to be a plain joke. I once stared at two lizards on my
wall for almost one hour and all this time so many questions were running
through my mind.
7.
I am not very sure about what
the weather would be tomorrow or what will pop up in the news. All I am sure
about is that whether it rains or not or the news are good or bad, I will
somehow join the dots and pieces, the odds and ends and capture that moment. This
is what I call poetry.
8.
My teachers have told me that
there is no way one can have more than one conversation at the same time. I beg
to differ. As I sit here, I am conversing with so many people at the same time
and somehow there is harmony to all this. I find congruence to all of them.
9.
Of all the accomplishments I
can boast of in life, speaking to your heart takes pride of place. There are so
many irritating balderdash floating within us. If out of all these, a line of
my poetry hit the soft spots of your heart, that is the best commendation I can
hope for as a poet.
10. Let the echoes of the hills continue to reverberate.
And let us, the pilgrims, assemble at the foothills and catch the whispers in
our hearts. The echoes are not limited in time. The message never gets stale.
2 comments:
Oh I so love this, Salem. I do think, though, you should type up a collection of what you consider your finest poems on the theme of social justice, and submit them to a publisher. Publishers sometimes need to be made aware of new and rising poets, and if they read ONE of your poems, they will surely read the rest. Perhaps in your cover letter you could attach a clipping of any you have had published, to intrigue them enough to look further. You have a big enough body of work to publish now. And once you have ONE book out, then you can publish more easily.Your work so deserves to be published, and I have utter faith that it will be.
Thank you so much, Koko. Let me finish up first with my exams. I intend to do exactly that. May be hopefully things will look up. As always, I am appreciative of your directions. :)
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Echoes of the Hills is all about you. I would love to hear your echo...