The Portrait


Quietly it lay in its strangeness

appearing both living and dead

speaking a myriad of dialects

neither lovely nor repulsive.


The trees came out leafless

with a spidery arrangement

hint of fury was carefully hidden

by the surrounding still murky waters.


A supple breeze hovered around

it was hot and humid

carried neither odor nor perfume

it was bizarre but oddly exciting.


The fine gray sky carried a promise

also passed odd blinding longing

a sickly sweet anticipation

of discovering and exploring everything anew.




all seemed evermore missing

Or was it just self-fed illusion?





An Adornment


I am a creation of art,

An awe-inspiring beauty,

Filled with everlasting appeal,

But death was the price


I hang as an adornment,





Savoring the compliments,

The whoring evil genius,

Altered my being,

My joy


I’m lifeless,

I’m numb,

Feeling neither joy nor sadness,

Responding to the calls of my ancestor’s time


Bottling the desire to lead my days,

As I want,

Where I want,

How I want


I miss kissing the elastic breeze,

I miss dancing in the loving storm,

I miss the interminable sunrise quarrel,

From the colorful birds in half-lighted days


Apoplectic rage fills the air,

From the trees standing like a pack of mourners,

They bore witness as violence tumbled down,

Everything and everyone is battered down




The Agile Queen

Magnificent idol!

Aston kamunde


The crick crack echoed the breaking of dawn,
Her body reeled from drunken sweet slumber,
She emerged from the hollows of dead branches,
Guided by instincts, she searched for the soft luminous horizon

The sky was dotted by many scattered smoky clouds,
The crisp falling of air carried beauty that felt invincible,
It made her feel immobile and at the same time suspended her,
It was a distilled sweetness that mornings like these carried

The soft sounds of the whistles and bustles of the wind circled her,
They pushed her forward towards the flower petals despite herself,
The delicate soft petals were slowly opening for her awkward self,
She contained her firing desire to crawl and sit inside such openings

She was focused on fulfilling that, which justified her existence,
All her life she was guided and worked from her untamed instincts,
A huge burden of guilt descended on her…

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A Dreamy Fleeting Spell

Aston kamunde


I leaned on the truck of that naked tree; it felt so easy, so magical,

It was as gentle as a lover’s voice is late morning,

It faded away all chaos that rested in me and calmed my storm,

Is that how the naked tree felt? I had no inkling idea

The lazy sun was slowly breaking through the gray clouds,

As if stretching time for me to feel and reach out for the naked tree,

The naked tree harbored quiet secrets and powers,

I felt hints of wisdom as it stood in silence and loneliness

The naked tree washed away all unnecessary worries of my heart,

As I yearned to project my own reality to the gray and ungiving world,

To feel and bath in a life faithful to own self,

The naked tree opened new strength, freedom and sublimity

I closed my eyes as I felt brief twists…

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A Foolish Heart

Aston kamunde


I felt like a petal finally unshackled from a tangle of leaves,

Strands of sunshine felt like all heaven fulfilled,

Every moment felt both golden and glorious,

Little did I know it was all tease and deceit!

My blinded heart had been made blameless and soft,

It is as if it was all safe in the darkening labyrinth,

Was this that old boring pattern I once heard?

That love is blind?

I now feel little, too small to break the dewy mist of the grass,

I have been reduced like an ingredient in an old wise recipe,

My abandoned heart feels cold and too fragile,

Shuttered million times over coz of the deafening horror

All my senses are lost as I sit in a sea of petals,

The reality of things makes me shiver under the bright sun,

Too afraid but already armed to teeth for the onslaught of sympathy,

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Broken Angel


Surrounded by the hidden obscenity of the sky,

She coiled there naked and frayed,

Fire above the sky was as in her heart,

Ancestor’s winds carried a promise of rain,

But no amount of rain would cool her burning skin


Exposed under the judging eyes,

She had lost all her sensibility, earthiness and humanness,

Her dignity had been ensnared and reduced into fine dust,

She felt it disappearing into the red, hot fierce winds,

She huddled her defenseless sickly body against a million-knot gusts


She couldn’t,

She was small and weak,

She was a trapped powerless fly,

She took in all rain’s violence out of the tempest,

Regretting the loss of birth and of freedom


Violent battering rain equaled the pounding of her chest,

She hated her skin, weight and the texture of her hair,

She hated the trees and all the flowers,

She hated the sun, the moon and the stars,


She hated some more,

Hated the rain,

Hated her life,

…and gods,

She could only hate…








Please Kiss Me

Aston kamunde


I want to drift into that far away place with that kiss,
A place that is never guided by self-blinded rules,
Where I will splendidly sing my heart’s real meaning,
Please kiss me; I am dying of wanting and needing

I have no words for what I feel when I dream of you,
Yet I will end up calling it force, beauty and sublimity,
Because it forces me lose my sensibility and emotions,
Kiss me and calm the raging storm that pervades my heart

The voice of my heart cannot stop calling you,
And my relentless dreams cannot help but wish,
To feel the things that I had never felt before,
I need you to make my time stand still by kissing me

That kiss will bring me new eyes to see the marvel,
Of exploring and discovering secrets and powers of a moment,
A moment that will turn me…

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Voices behind the words (An Interview series with writers, Interview #7 (Aston Kamunde)

Real Free - Flowing Words

  • New poem in the works. It could possibly be a collaboration with my homie and fellow writer Patrick @mycreativepatience so stay tuned for that.

Welcome readers to another entry in this series I call Voices behind the words (An interview series with writers). This was the quickest turnaround I’ve gotten for an interview following the previous one I uploaded no more 4 days ago. Having said that I’m grateful that the last one made a little bit of noise with the comments and likes pouring into not only my page but my previous guest Sara’s page. Anyways, this time around I spoke with Aston Kamunde of @AstonKamunde on WordPress. We spoke about the poetry scene in his home country of Kenya, his approach to uploading content on WordPress which I found we share similarities on, his aspirations to publish, and how he would describe his writing in one sentence. I…

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