Mohammed Ali

Mohammed Ali

Cassius Clay

The Legend

He was not a humble man
Everything he did, was big and grand
He taunted and barbed with poetic flair
His opponents he angered
Entertainment in the air

He was a legend, bigger than man
A champion in the ring
He often took a heroic stand
Breaking barriers of narrow minds
He defined his style in his own time

His greatest feats were not title wins
Nor his taunts and bragging sins
Inside there was a more humble man
Who stood for the downtrodden in troubled lands
Full of humility he still could sting like a bee

In the end he floats away
A softer man, of a fighter’s heart
So shed a tear, for this complex legend
Whose humble beginnings’
The butterfly brought home to his roots

God brought him back to his beginning
Cassius Clay he was… and now lives in eternity
Freed not by name
But by convictions... of his
Good deeds

UNSPOKEN

The streets know him by name,he is a star with no fame
they always judge him and so he pleaded guilty they now call him the beggar
i swear i saw him today and i offered to help
instead he asked for a pen and this is his message for you

in every seed, there is a tree
in every sheep, there is a flock
in every cow, there is a herd
in every boy, there is a man
in every girl, there is a woman
and in every nation a generation
               
                 BUT
Tragedy strikes when a man dies in a boy
a woman in a girl and a generation in a nation

failure is the key to success
 and if they change the padlock
just break in tell them we were born to win
if they cut off lights in your life
jump in jubilation and remind them stars only shine in darkness

for once be selfish never to give up
let them call you a miser but retain your hope
they may cut both your legs but
in hope like a grasshopper you can hop

they made to the finishing line before remind them you drew it
never made it in the marathon remind them you top the human race
tell them to give you space coz they cant keep your pace
 and if they claim to be heroes remind them you are the hero to their heroes

AT THE TOUCH OF LOVE

GREAT TALENT

at the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet
that's why siku ya kwanza nilimuona ilibaki nimemwandikia a sonnet
ju kaa cable ma heart kwake imeconnect
and do i need to say,her beauty, is out of this planet

she has turned to be my dream girl, no wonder me humuita my sleeping pill

KEEP IT UP BABY GYAL

my heart dances to her heart beat and when she moves my world stands still
do not steal is the 8th commandment but lord forgive me
 for her a glance i always have to steal

my whole body is preparing for funeral,ju kusema ukweli nishaa mkufia
beauty must be her real name thats why madem huvaa weave ju kofia washaa mvulia
God created her to perfection,thats why namsifia
and if you want to prove me right,uliza Nameless alimuwaza hadi akasinzia

ata ningekuwa kipofu i swear bado ningemkula kwa macho
ju ata bila sight mi humuona in my visions
kwangu ye maryjane thats why she my addiction
na ata kaa angekuwa impossible she would still be my mission

THE TITLE-LESS POEM

When opportunities don't opens door for you
be creative and pass through the window
when your room is too dark use your sixth sense
and make a crack on the wall to at least let in some light
to shine on your life for you to draw your future

 when every thing is gone,hold tight to your breath
to stay alive and when that seems impossible 
may success be your death wish and victory build your tomb
when your heart is broken, make life your wife until death do you apart
if you acted on the first scene you can also feature on the next
keep the script in your mind and let hope be your co-actor
faith be your director and failure the bad boy

 as long you are breathing,
make hoping against hope your career 
even if your future seems dark 
you can paint it with a brighter colour
that will even irritate the eyes of the blind

 if they don't love you,never judge them 
may be they are too broke to afford some love for you
they make you cry daily
use your tears to irrigate your success
and if it grows ask them to help in harvesting

 if stuck in traffic
leave the car and start the walk
even if through hell,you can find warm water
for a cool bath
or a cup filled with hot coffee.

ISABELLA

 I hate my eyes, for they went astray and focused all my attention unto you
my mind certified you to be too sexy, now i can't stop thinking of you
my heart tried to out do my eyes and my brain, beating to the rhythm of our sexy voice
but i hate my mouth the most,it didn't tell you how much i love you

i just hate my legs, they can't walk to bridge the distance between me and you
for my hands let me not mention no matter the stretching i can't hold you again
Google is now my new enemy,coz your where abouts is the only question it can't answer
and i swear i hate my pen, it just wrote this poem about you

i hate my memory,reminds me of an angel you are
my dreams are the worst,they got me thinking you are a sister to beauty
 i hate the words used i in this poem,reminds me of love i never had
i hate the fact that am reciting this,holding onto this Mic instead of your beautiful hands

i hate my tears they can't wash away the love i have for you
i hate all the ladies,none of them can replace it either
i hate love itself and wish it was not created

i hate everything just because i love you
ISABELLA

A LETTER TO MY TEACHER

Am sorry Mr lecturer,for always being notorious in class
am sorry for being that rude and always a pain in the rare end
in every market there are..., that's a saying am here to pass
my knucklehead characteristics are a blessing don't confuse them with a curse

am sure you like my class rep,he is that you call an example
am sure you hate me with equal measure, for your experiment am no sample
you forget that life is a circle and am the dot that completes the circle
and if i were a saint,would we need a priest in a temple?

am always late for lectures,coz hurry hurry has no blessings
always noisy in class, coz silent waters run deep
i don't do assignment on time, there is no hurry in Africa
always giving assignment after deadlines, better late than never

you hate me for breaking the rules,remember they are made to be broken
you should even congratulate me, i only bend them
now you think am crazy, Jesus came for the lost
and if you wish i were dead, am real am not a ghost

yours 
STEPHEN MASTEL

WEEBALE

Lord forgive me, i did cheat on my teacher
he wanted to know what i wanted to become, but i gave the wrong answers
i said i wanted to become a doctor, coz my sister was sick at the time
i remember mentioning a lawyer, coz my dad said it was cool
i also dreamt of being a president ,coz i wanted to be above the law
but all this time my pen and paper haunted me, i was born a poet

am twenty years young and going, thanks lord for my talent
although i never became a doctor, i treat their hearts with poetic words
i will never become a lawyer, but their hearts i give poetic justice
presidency is not even one of my blood cells, but those inspired by my poetry always say long live Stephen mastel

Thanks God for during your six days of creation you never forgot to create the words i use
some of my fans pour praises unto me but let them know its by your grace
i have been in school all my life but before i was born you gave me a PHD in poetry
thanking  you is not good but because i have no otherwise

THANK YOU