Essy The Poet

Have you seen the one whom my heart loves? Song 3:3 Resonated by the Mary of Magdala at the wake of Resurrection. Recall the devastation, the frustration, the wonderment? Of a woman in love and loss all at once, the confusion? He soon passed away and was no more; though I looked for him, he could not be found. Psalm 37:36 Here goes the tone of pain.   Designate was the voice that called, Mary! John 20:16 Intimate and consummate was the trill, so merry! The voice pitched in hope, cleared the guise. Does it happen that the deceased are rekindled? She sought for a corpse to accord a decent burial, But HE comes whole, victorious and alive! The pain turned victory!   Feminine audacity, she’s the first herald. Announcing the Good news! “He’s risen!” The sinner forgiven much, loves much. Luke 7:47 Many a person will promise love. But when a woman loves, she loves to bits. Crowned apostle, sweet little pebble. Found Him whom her heart loved. And I d

My Lord gazes profoundly, a hue of tenderness,           Usually our glances penetrate each other, I deeply gulp.  But this day, shame dwarfs my uncanniness, So that I come reluctant as a dirge I come anyways Lord, lame as me.  I might be filthy, swarmed in grit,  I might be distraught, burdened with regret, I might be violent, me judging me.  For not breaking the bad, but could I ? I come anyways Lord, lame as me.  Didn't you promise, where sin increases, Your grace does too, your highness? Rm 5:20 You have the means to unlock these chains, And free the sinner, burdened by pain.   So I come anyways Lord, lame as me.  For to whom else shall I go? You have the message of eternal life. Jn 6:68  Sr. Esther Koros OSF 0726179789   

  Dear Muse Your telepathic self has bewitched my mojo, again! So that calories don’t burn around efforts about you. So, songs echo differently cajoled by thoughts of you. So, the wind blows with a swagger about you. So that your voice echoes long after a call. Squeeze me through your days. Lull me through you nights. Charm me through your laughter. Better still, Visit my nest sometimes. Every time, All the time. Sr. Esther Jeruto Koros OSF  Give yourself a pat on the back sometimes. 

I married him, a broke bloke.     We worked so hard, it hurt, just to reach high. Then the sweat trickled, solidifying into coins. The wish list got ticked, inch by inch, meted. The dared dreams, met by money, implemented. There were new shoes, new clothes, new recipes. Then the new mansions, new cars, new projects.   We crossed the bridge, quite unceremoniously. The dinners, the politics, the vloggers came venomously. The road trips graduated into flights, so vigorously. We schooled the kids too, in places quite scholarly. Then the guests flocked in, testing my hospitality. The nephews, the aunties, the uncles, quite ridiculously, Hailing and praising their rich uncle, loved suddenly.   Then the centre hit, he told me, so much courage. He lost interest in all things marriage. Vanishing for weeks while I chased his mirage. He wanted time alone, to reclaim and disparage I fought to accept and his ego massage. Little did I know, ‘the me time’ as

He told me once, A man had a voyage that his life depended on, He also had a wife, newly bought, cattle a tone. Who she had to leave behind, for a duration he knew not. A sad farce, leaving a maiden lonely, felt a tight knot. Ragging his head, he thought up a solution…. bingo! He swiftly purchased a chastity belt, to secure his winkies… lingo! ‘None must tamper with my wife’s ding-dong while I am away.’ Under lock and key, his goodies were secured, he felt gay. ‘But what if harm befalls me on my voyage, shall my wife die childless?’ Ragging his head once again, he thought up a solution… genius! On the hill yonder is a man older, a chaste aced pastor, very ingenious! ‘I will leave him the key, in case I die, the man yonder can sire her an heir.’ Obstacles removed, free as a barnacle, he headed to the port, free of ire. ‘One more look at my home land,’ he thought, dreadful of the unknown Then he heard a loud yell, ‘Kino!’ he looked back, Bowne. The man yon

Dear Bestie, As I write this, my palms are moist with shock. You remember the day when Jay was born? How you held him gently, kissed him warmly, read his soul. Calling him your little heartbreaker. You remember?   Dear Bestie, As I write, my heart throbs with thunderbolt. You remember his first little steps, lovely and wobbly? You remember us buying him blue outfits that flew? Wanting him to be a pilot? Remember?   Dear Bestie As I write, there is a tempest within me. You remember his first day in school, sharp as a tack. You remember him asking about his Daddy? Wanting to be like other kids? Remember?   Dear Bestie, As I write, there is a chill running down my spine. You remember when we prayed and fasted to get him a visa? You remember the good luck bouquet you gave him? Wanting him to read law in Cambridge? Remember?   Dear Bestie, As I write, pangs of regret won’t give me a minute of peace. He returned just yesternight, with