Welcome to my Poetry and writing blog, I am glad you stopped by:)
I do Poetry and pieces of writing, just for fun and self-growth.
I write for existence, just like breathing.
"Creativity is the engine on my quill"
I hope you'll enjoy my writing :) Checkout more of my work on instagram; @Drew_Poetry.
Thanks for stopping by:)
"THE MODERN YOUTH"
There goes the alarm. Like it does every single morning. “Thank God they made a snooze button! Time to play the same game as yesterday’s, dear phone. Let’s see how long we can tolerate each other before finally giving in to all this ‘Go off alarm, and I’ll snooze you’ boring game. Just five more minutes please...”
That’s me and pretty much almost as many people in my own age every morning. The modern youth’s a lazy person. But as much as we’re, I don’t really blame ‘us’. Perhaps I should blame the whole system and the society for the rot. But, I won’t. I shouldn’t… I think I shouldn’t!
All this reduces down to an individual’s own self, and how much self-discipline has been gathered by themselves. “I will do this today.No, maybe tomorrow.” Well they say, tomorrow never comes. “Let me sit down and apply for the job right away! Oh Dear, She texted! I’ll chat with her first…” The modern youth lacks self-discipline. Incredibly mislead we are. Lost, and the light at the end of the tunnel is burning low. There are a lot of tunnels before us, to worsen the situation, to begin with. ‘Right’ and ‘Wrong’ have since become siblings. We’re torn between which one to follow.
“Tomorrow, I will wake up early, and make a change!” Tomorrow comes, the routine wrongs still rock! The modern youth needs a fresh pair of legs to walk in life with, and do away with the crutches the system and the society made us believe in. An American - Kenyan gentleman once said, “Yes we can!”. We can change it all. We can get those jobs. We can be early birds. We can pass those tests. All we need is just ourselves!
He knocked on the door, but unlike usual, there was no response. No eager answer served on hugs and kisses that night like it has always been on all previous nights. He knocked again, "Honey, I'm home." Once again, there was no response, but the noise of crickets in the flower garden and distant conversations on the television from inside the house. He slowly grabbed the door knob, his heart racing and thumping like Zulu drums, and turned it. His head was a nest of questions, concerns and worries. He stealthily charged in and dropped his laptop bag and roses that he'd bought for her, on the sofa. "Honey..." He mildly and softly called out once more, checking the kitchen. Onions burnt coal black, smoking and sizzling on a pan, on the cooker, was the sight his worried eyes got served to. He turned the cooker off and hurried upstairs in panic, breathing like a bull in rage, shouting, "Honey! Are you home? Where are you at?" He certainly knew somethin…
"My bones ache from your touch. My goosebumps rise to worship your fingertips. They ripen from the warmth in your palms. You free the caged breaths from my lungs with your whispers. I can tell how much your nostrils love feasting on the smell of my trachea and that of my saliva. I grow submissive to my own moans. I am a slave to my own feelings and emotions. You are the god that created them. I am drowning in a lake of love and romance and I don't need you to save me. I need you to drown me deeper and help me die, for I want my soul to leave my body into to yours. I want to share the same body with you and live in your body tonight. I want my soul to rest in your peace." She whispered gasping, choking to saliva. "Erotic Confessions"Drew Poetry~Andy Mwalasha
A picture in my hands, slightly over twodecades old. A baby tightly calm, in arms, my eyes grow wet and cold. A tear splashes, onto a fold,on the picture's surface,onto my tiny infant face. Taken few minutes after birth, I have always been told. With my innocent eyes closed, a tight grip on my fist hold.If I could ever have back,that moment in the picture,I would try, not to cry. I would smile back at you, mother, and high-five you, father. You rocked me on your laps,when I couldn't shut my lips.I cried all night, you never slept. You always stood by me, and never left.Behind these grown irises of mine, you will always, forever, remain, the people who make me happy.Always, My Mummy and My Daddy. "Mummy & Daddy" Drew Poetry ~Andy Mwalasha