Category

Poetry

ode to lovers i – vii

image

what brings two people together? – the need to be seen, to be appreciated, to be accepted with all of one’s humanness. 

the act of allowing others into our lives is an act of vulnerability – it allows the other to see our attempt at making our individual aloneness bearable, our efforts at escaping loneliness, our need for community. 

and most times, this coming together requires “work” – communication, honesty, dependence, and sometimes, the work does not bear fruit

these themes of what we have come to call love are what these poems attempt to address in a very simple, straightforward way 

– Daisy Moraa

(written in late 2017, Oct-Dec 2017, the first 3 months when I went to work in Molo  and experienced a lot of social alienation from my family and friends who were/are far away in Nairobi) 

ode to lovers i

ode to lovers ii

ode to lovers iii

ode to lovers iv

ode to lovers v

ode to lovers vi

ode to lovers vii

ode to lovers ii

simplymoraa:

no
true  lovers can sustain their claim at
eternity
on mere eye contact – they have to unmask each other 
and undo the invisible boundaries between and inside themselves

through
dialogue;  to discover the person behind
the smile
that so pulled them like gravity. In the deep of my quiet, my consciousness
sings your name

so
come to me, in the quiet of your Questions
let your mirrored image bring you to me
even though I do not have the answers

I
am almost as when I began
though i have lived searching and
asking – a beggar at the feet of life

It
is so sad how the banal things cling
they never let go, so here in my altar of altars
I offer the sameness of my being

i offer you the sameness of my days of my face
of my hands of my life, perhaps if you are here
things will be different (better?)

stay
– that is what the orbits are humming
that is what the gravity of my iris sings as the world revolves–
the orbits and planets in my eyes are a melancholy song

stay
and give me life

ode to lovers iv

there are two drunkards arguing over God knows what by the corner,
ahead of me, two young girls, bent over with their kiondos like two miniature grandmothers
six boys about the age of my younger brother, watch music videos off a TV on display in a small electronics shop,

there’s the buzz of boda bodas and the hum of market activity all round
and walking home under a blue sky and a gentle late afternoon sun
the world seems quiet and good and beautiful

except without the promise of a You to come home to,
my feet have nowhere to rush to
and everything is grey – everything.

ode to lovers iii

image

how the earth holds the weight of the rain
and the lightness of the wind
and the latency of the sun –

now nurtured, now destroyed, now restored
by the elements, is how i carry all that you are
in the soul of my soul

if you did not exist, I would not be I,
a day would not be a day
and my life would not be a life

i am because you are

Portrait Session: Like an Ivy

There are friends who grow on us like an ivy – slowly but surely. We look back after a couple of years and we find that their name covers more than just a few memories. They were there for you on lazy afternoons in uni, and during the interesting and difficult times and they were there when you fell for someone so hard and they saw you go the full length of a range of emotions – from being intrigued, to fantasy, to being whipped aka swept off your feet, to losing the blinders and seeing that maybe that interest was not all you made them out to be, to healing and moving on and doing the whole thing over and over until you outgrow the outraging passions of being a young adult and settle into a mold that you like. 

That is the type of friendship that we have shared with Ivy – she and I are less of peas in a pod, and more like different blooms – true to our names, she is an ivy, and I a daisy. She is the calm composed rational one, and I am the daisy – the vibrant, dramatic, intense and impulsive one. Her existential beliefs, her background, her interests are quite largely different from mine, and she reads my poems as a placebo editor as should friends of poets though I know she would rather not on a  normal day. Once I invited her for Mass, and after I asked her how was it, and she told me – honestly, it was very ritualistic. And that was that. though she did like the disposition of the priest and the community of faith I belong to at large.

   

 She studied mechanical engineering, and I civil engineering in the same uni, and that is how we met. I do not recall the instant we met, but she was the roommate of a former high-school mate of mine, and we shared mutual acquaintances, and some classes and somewhere between class and the hostels, a friendship blossomed and still continues to blossom more than 6 years later.

Now that life is becoming divergent after uni, and it becomes harder and harder to keep up with our friends like we would when we had the advantage of proximity in thought and distance, making time to see those who matter to me has become top priority. I like to squeeze as much as I can from the time I get to spend with those I love. So when I was in Nairobi for the holidays, the same evening after going to the Murumbi Art Gallery, running some errands, and spending some time at Garden City Mall with my family, I went for a sleepover at hers, and the next day, we went for a nature walk close to where she lives, where there is an old railway line and a planted forest of considerable size. The most interesting thing is that she was not even aware of the rail track though it is less than 20 meters away from where she lives, and I really enjoyed exploring the planted forest-of -sorts and we had to pass through a hole in a barbed fence (aka trespass but there was no “do not trespass” sign) and we went and went until we came upon old dilapidated  houses, and a clearing that had remnants of demolished houses and that is where we took these shots. 
We then went further,
and Ivy decided that we should not tempt fate when we felt the hairs at the back of our necks stand the further we went and we came upon houses that seemed like they had occupants. I agreed with her when a couple of young men passed us in silence, and we felt like we should definitely turn back. 
What seemed to come out of a horror movie is when an old lady stood at the opening we used to get into the fenced forest – she stood still, and we did too in turn, while asking ourselves if she was looking at us or going on about her business. The standstill came to a halt, when we saw two young boys join her and they came into the clearing, and we took that as cue from the universe to leave. And leave we did, with these amazing shots, the memory of a morning well spent bonding and enjoying the morning sun, and discovering the less known parts of a town that had brought us together. 

To book a portrait session, email me at simplymoraa@gmail.com

ode to lovers ii

no
true  lovers can sustain their claim at
eternity
on mere eye contact – they have to unmask each other 
and undo the invisible boundaries between and inside themselves

through
dialogue;  to discover the person behind
the smile
that so pulled them like gravity. In the deep of my quiet, my consciousness
sings your name

so
come to me, in the quiet of your Questions
let your mirrored image bring you to me
even though I do not have the answers

I
am almost as when I began
though i have lived searching and
asking – a beggar at the feet of life

It
is so sad how the banal things cling
they never let go, so here in my altar of altars
I offer the sameness of my being

i offer you the sameness of my days of my face
of my hands of my life, perhaps if you are here
things will be different (better?)

stay
– that is what the orbits are humming
that is what the gravity of my iris sings as the world revolves–
the orbits and planets in my eyes are a melancholy song

stay
and give me life

HOURS I-VII & the 3 interludes

simplymoraa:

Hours is a 10 piece poem that has 7 complete pieces and 3 interludes. It deals with the search of identity as a human being and the journey that guides one to self-awareness as an individual through periods of grief, depression, rejection, loss and silence. The whole poem is a melancholic lyric, that is a cry that echoes through even after the healing has taken place at long last, if only to serve as a reminder that the sensitive and scarred places that are logged beneath our skin are beautiful in their own way and very essential.

It was a complete metamorphosis for me as a writer to bring this to life.

– Daisy Moraa, Dec 2016


Hours I

Hours II

Hours III

Hours IV

Hours Interlude: No Romance I

Hours V

Hours Interlude: No Romance II

Hours Interlude: No Romance III

Hours VI

Hours VII

to be alone and lonely i -viii

to be alone and lonely i

to be alone and lonely ii  

to be alone and lonely iii

to be alone and lonely iv  

to be alone and lonely v 

to be alone and lonely vi 

to be alone and lonely vii

to be alone and lonely viii

These poems on loneliness and aloneness, written in August & September 2017,  are an attempt to discover these states, what causes them, what cures them, and if they are incurable, how to live with them. There is a sort of shame about the solitude that comes with these two, for solitude seems to be contrary to the human nature to be liked, to form part of a group/a tribe, in essence, to belong. But it should not be so, to heal a heartbreak, to grapple with our idea of being loveable or unloveable, to see the lack thereof of companionship where there should be some and more, is something that happens mostly in the silence of our thoughts, and that is the loneliness/aloneness that makes us who we are, that we cannot escape from, and how we merge from those moments of introspection ultimately determine how we give and receive affection.

– Daisy Moraa, November 20, 2017.

My Poetry Got Published at the Clarion, Issue 19, Boston University!

Some of my poems got published earlier this year by a literary magazine in Boston University called the Clarion. I wrote those poems when I was going through a particularly heart wrenching moment in my life – and I am glad something good came out of the pain.
The poems got featured alongside other African poet’s work, as the Clarion Magazine Issue 19 published by Boston University was an an African issue – it focused on writing by poets from Across Africa.

The link to my work is http://www.bu.edu/clarion/19/africa/daisy-moraa-ongangi.htm and I am glad for all those who have read and shared the work, and those who have already gotten in touch to tell me that they could resonate, or that they did not know I write, or that they simple enjoyed them and were saying their congratulations.

 Thank you for reading and enjoy the poems!