My Inspiration

I have a story so far untold,

But today it’s time to unfold,

I’m a journalist and believe I’m bold,

And this is a fact I wish to uphold.

Many yearn to know my driving force,

What makes me different from fellow pros,

It’s the blood of Pultza shed on the cross,

And the poetry – journalism truss.

Far from the kinky profession,

I boast of a living inspiration,

A lady behind the good culmination,

The unsung hero in my projects’ instigation.     

She is a forest of love mire,

Much caring and slow of ire,

Precisely truthful and not a liar,

And a vocalist in the KSUCA choir.

Her name is Mercy meaning compassion,

A lovely lady with whom I’ll abide my affection. 

She is a figure of great adoration,

The lady of my greatest approbation.

When I met her I had the fear,    

That lasted for barely a year,

Then came my proposal which was sheer,

And she turned me down for reasons very mere.

I had to put on another gear,

With sweet words in her ear,

Just like the cow gee,

And a promise to give a lee.

Then came the day when she admitted,

That I loving her is now permitted,

Then both of us had to be committed,

This only came with someone being omitted,

To her I bet it was so sweet a deal,

Then now she’s got to be self-real,

Since she finally know how I feel,

Thanks babe we’re together even in reel.

 By: Otieno Lawrence

                ©2016