Thursday, 19 November 2015


The persona in this poem is a heartbroken soul that had been crushed, hurt and forced into dark unimaginable places, getting smashed between fierce realities of the world and the jaws of stinging pain caused by Love. Later on, this hurt soul finds the perfect soul "Angel" who heals all the wounds and proves to be the one, "Soulmate"!

Enjoy the Poetry :)


I choose to starve, food for thought, not my delicacy,
swallowed my tongue, i've loud pens, let them speak,
Don't mistake aliens for angels, both are from the sky,
pure, spotless white, like milk, filthy under the cream!

I'm drowning, lungs overflowing with water, skin's pale,
Time is cash, i bet it's more valuable in your timezone,
"Time is money", the reason I spend mine at the mall,
Stars in your ocean don't shine, they swim and survive!

My tears on hot sand evaporated, the rain you enjoyed,
stabbed me, died, then you caged my soul in a dungeon,
"DAYS" to me always meant that, I will "Do As You Say",
my soul from your fierce dungeon, rescued by an Angel!

Love Poetry Collection
"Cries From The Dungeon"
~Andy Mwalasha

Sunday, 15 November 2015


An all wrapping book. Our fore-fathers named it "Life". Well, we adopted the same name and so, we also call it "Life". A unique book which one only writes once and never gets a chance to read it, but just to mention, others do!

The book has a cover page, "The Birthday", the initial page where the first ever ink drop was dragged down the very first page. The cover page is a very special part of the book and it reoccurs in every chapter. It's normally colorful and mostly treasured by the writer of the book and also by other related writers who share almost the same content or with an interest in the content of the writer in question. It therefore holds a special place in the heart of the writer.

Like any other great book, chapters are a great deal in logical writing. Since this is a massive book, chapters prove to be an aiding element in relieving the writer the burden of a mixed up content. "Years", they are the chapters. They consist of "365 pages". Every fourth chapter has just a page more. All chapters in the book are introduced by a copy of the cover page, given some special touch with some special ink.

A book is like an abandoned sea shell, lifeless, when without what defines it as a book, pages. "Days" are the pages. Everyday is a precious page that one either voluntarily or involuntarily writes. Some opt to doodle on the pages and waste them but they still count when the book is being published. 365 of these pages, make a chapter!

You are the writer, or maybe the quill. every "minute" is a sentence punctuated by the breaths you take. The heartbeats between the words dictate the intensity of the sentence. It takes more than just ink to write into this book, so, the heart, soul, mind and blood should be blended together for the perfect ink. 

Well, sometimes writers make mistakes. Sadly, errors can never be erased and will forever remain in the book. Those are the pages the writer gets painful reviewing them. This however isn't a limitation to a great book! As long as the writer continuously scribbles into new pages considering the errors and mistakes of the previous pages, it'll all be perfect with all the flaws viewed as challenges meant to improve the writer's style and genre. Such aid the writer into growing the book's content. In addition, such type of writers have been known to publish the most successful books, with catchy contents!

Write wisely into your book! Make it voluminous as it can get. Scribble your history, have fun with your pages, yet meet your chapter objectives in time.

A great writer leaves a great legacy behind, because the book will only be published after the writer's last breath, and placed on shelves allover for young writers to review and aid them in writing their own.

Enjoy writing your "Book"!

Short Creative Writing
"The Book"
~Andrew Mwalasha

Saturday, 14 November 2015


Pricey clothing, shadow wanders naked,
time is money, oh sorry, currency faked,
subway brain, train of thoughts wrecked,
behind eyelids, a world, dusky and faded.

Caged in self, agony disguises out as smiles,
drops of pain rain down, the splashing kills,
blinking, limited vision, lost glimpse thrills,
night troubled sheets, lost in thoughts, miles.

Rib cage so toughened, self up against self,
forever self- locked, peeps out through eyes,
bought 'self- freedom', self- hate's the price,
"A self- caging self, is the most loving self!"

Poetry Collection.
"Self- Caged"
~Andy Mwalasha.

Thursday, 12 November 2015


Hat on head when old, protect the wisdom,
wrinkled skins, birthday suits need ironing,
O Queen, you make complete our kingdom,
stormy nights, us loving under the lightning.

Smiles, looking back, the life that we created,
unfading beauty, my soul in your eyes, caged,
Rose, still fresh, butterfly's nectar ever tasted,
Milady, my intentions, love you till we're aged.

Love Poetry Collection
"Till We're Aged"
~Andy Mwalasha

Wednesday, 11 November 2015


Amid heart palpitations, lung-tearing breathing,
Atmospheric poisoning, with loud tense silence,
fierce blood vaporizing, veins tattered, eroding,
waves underneath the skin, Love drowning iris.

Melodic mornings, Love melodies, little paradise,
Sun, burning with jelousy, had fun with the moon,
In your eyes lies my reflection, deeper my paradise,
Nights, Mornings with you, love holds us till noon. 

Love Poetry Collection
"With You"
~Andy Mwalasha

Tuesday, 3 November 2015


In a tuxedo, all dressed in the words i say,
talk is cheap not even attention would pay,
singing in the shower, awarded in dreams,
dirty chest, even more dirtier than it seems.

The pal in mirrors, drowned him at the sink,
wrote this with warm blood, turned into ink,
am not Santa, but i'll be down your chimney,
swallowing my pride, don't wanna be skinny.

loved to swim but i would drown in my tears,
love is so sweet, getting diabetic, worst fears,
am a tortoise, slow yet always closer to home,
East or West, my old back, carries my home!

Poetry collection
"Dressed In Words"
~Andrew Mwalasha


Gone are the days that you'd rest your head on my chest and smell the scent of my ripe goosebumps, those days that I would lose count o...