Posted in Weekly Thread

Way Back When

By: Our Daily Poetry Family.

Suckling on your mom’s nipples

Tooth barely grown

Back when music was music

We would dance with our hearts

Nowadays men just grind on butts

Leisure was time for bonding 

Nowadays the selfish generation has taken root 

Music was for all you see young men with earphones all over.
Ladies were shy

And men were brave

Long dresses represented the long relationships

The moonlight was enough for the night

When virginity was dignity 

Nowadays they say it’s lack of opportunity

When love was true love

Not measured by the pocket.
A telescopic shaft was twisted and extended

Four etched dials were clicked

And a hand taps down on a mesh

Numbers were recited

Digits placed a wire through a cradle

The holder was turned to forty five degrees

Elastic was pulled from black rubber

Dirtied crumpled pages were strummed by a thumb

A velvet tassel was plucked and thfathersck

Chords oscillate

A poem was written…..way back when.
When relationships were treasured 

Unions were respected

When sex wasn’t the backbone of dating

When men cared for women

And women knew how to cook local foods

When ladies used to cook like their mothers 

Nowadays they drink like their fathers.

When black was ordainefully beautiful.
When we still had a dream. 

Color of my skin was a continental symbolism

Not a tint to be tainted out. To be massacred.

Our women were proud of their skin.

Bleaching was considered an abomination

A plagiarism of beauty.
When ODP used to dance

The tune of weekly thread 

Leaving out no issues 

As Killing of albinos

The Monster amidst us ( Cancer)

The world heard our voices 

Right from our inner part of our Brains !
When gentlemen used to compete within themselves to impress a lady 

They compete with their fathers
When handkerchiefs where being used for blowing the nose 

They are nowadays worn as clothes 
Take me to those days

Where children memorized radio adverts instead of curses

Listened to stories and folk tales not to songs full of nothing coated in a danceable beat

Where children watched cartoons and practice English

Not watching pornography and practice it.

When they played out in the field 

Not indoors on their phones.
When families used to pray together instead of praying each in their own rooms

When dinner used to b the time to share daily experiences instead of spending the whole dinner whatsapping.When breakfast was ngwashe not bread na sausage.
ODP poetry thread

Saturday night t’ings


Posted in Second Anthology: Anger Management

​A Colourful Past

Matolo Kyalo Jr., Kilifi County, Kenya.
I stare blankly

Rainwater trickles down the stained glass

My taxi is speeding down Teenage Avenue

The images are blurry and surreal

The voices from outside are barely audible

The sounds in my mind are screams and echoes

They cause me unspeakable agony

I stay calm in my seat

Watching as day turns into night 

I see faces burning under the moon’s amber

I see blood on the dirty street

Ambitions scatter all over the pavement

There’s no sanity anymore

It’s just a stone cold avenue painted with rage

Angry people walking aimlessly

Looking for answers from angrier ancestors

It’s a pissed community

Palms start sweating

The images are now fading

Darkness engulfs everything.
Taxi stops at crossroads.
Wind of change awakens my conscience

I look back down the empty avenue

I see a sweet struggle

So much pain

Yet, such a beautiful smile

Souls fighting a winning battle

I see red in blood and rage

For the vigilance and resilience

I see green in torn fences

For patience and strong will

I see yellow in fierce flames

For Hope, faith and a southern rising sun
I see a colourful past.

By: Matolo Kyalo Jr.
Anger Management
©July, 2017.

Posted in Rich Kids

Rich Kids of Kenyatta Road


Rich Kids Reach Out

Story by Kelvin Mutune; Machakos, Kenya.

First things first, give Caesar what’s due.
Comment: Is what you write out of experience or just sheer imagination? And whose this Narnia? I’d not mind meeting her.
Reply from author: I write purely out of imagination although in this “Rich Kids of K-Road” I’ve outdid myself in trying to bring out events I’ve seen to fit in harmoniously with my imagination, of course, there’s a generous amount of exaggeration.

 About Narnia, she’s still Narnia business (None ya’ business). She likes remaining anonymous.
My pen seems to bleed a lot nowadays. I’m not complaining though. Rich kids of my hood, I proudly present to you the 3rd article of this series. 

Read and enjoy.
Never let the outrageous attitude of these rich kids lead you to think that they are cold-hearted brimbos loitering on the hallways of hell. No, they are not heartless as many of you think. They are actually more warm than their plastic foreign accents reveal. When it’s time to give, they give cheerfully and without thinking twice. A light skin mama from the heart of Eastlando will silently query herself before giving, ” Nikitoa hii chwani, mathe atanipea credo kweli na venye yeye ni mstingy? Ama nitakua naitisha from mbaibe wangu?!” But not these rich kids. They just dip their well manicured hands into their Louis Vuitton purses and just pick whatever bill comes first. If it’s the one thousand bill, then let it be. 
A friend of the church youth group was getting married and these peeps really showed up to prepare for the weekend event. They threw their accents (or at least some of it) for some time and sang their voices out. Others, unlike me, who had not been born with two left feet decided to show us how to really get down. Then others decided romance was their calling and mimed their way into the hearts of many. These rich kids really *gave* their time in this. Judging from the busy clique schedule that some of them have, and the number of selfies they take per hour, this was really impressive.
Saturday came and flew by, apart from for those who went to the famed after party (they are probably still asleep now, nursing nasty hangovers). For those who decided that their houses formed better roofs than the flashing neon lit environment of the after party, like me, our Saturday really flew by fast

Sunday morning, woke up late. Ok, really really late. Decided to go to church anyways. After all, what’s the whole essence of “better late than never”? As I briskly walked into the dimly lit room, I could feel twenty or so pairs of eyes fixedly staring at me. They even made me doubt my wardrobe choice. Like, ” Kwani hii jeans ni chafu? Ama labda Niko na toothpaste kwa mashavu?…”. I fixed myself in between some friends of mine and immediately got lost in a conversation I’d love to christen “About last night”. I won’t divulge the details of that conversation, its details are classified and the last thing I want is to be skinned alive by the victims. 
The room was full of murmur like usual. You simply can’t stop a rich guy from expressing his feelings to a fellow rich girl, and the youth meeting apparently seems to them like the perfect venue for that. It was only after Ciru bellowed “SHUT UP AND HAVE RESPECT” that some sanity sifted into the room. Rich Kids were called upon to give towards a friend who had just got discharged from the hospital. And I tell you, I was really taken aback at how willing these guys are at helping a friend. In a matter of minutes, we were enroute towards the ailing friend’s home. It was really beautiful watching young men and women coming together for such a cause. For once, no selfies were taken except for Yobra and his pineapple juice in a basin. But what really stood out was the fact that we went out of our way to visit a friend willingly. That simple gesture maybe meant a lot to Davis. The rich kids had come together to give, not only their time and money, but also love. And what is life without love? 
In the midst of the chit chatter it was agreed that there will be a camp later this year and that no one will carry their phone to the camp. Selfie loving, light skin girls have you heard and digested that? No phones for a whole week! No instagram, no Snapchat and no pizzas and iMax will be watching the flora and fauna. I really don’t have an idea how you going to get Coldstone in the wilderness, unless you literally get a cold stone. Beautiful, right?
Before I pen off today, I’d love to do a little bit of reality check. 


Life is fragile and very special. Maybe most of us take it for granted that we are breathing and very well. For those of us who visited Davis, it was really a humbling experience for us to see how far God has brought him and how He has healed him so far. We realized that no one knows about tomorrow and we should always thank God that we are breathing and very well. On that same note, I would humbly ask you to include Davis and his family in your daily prayers. Pray for his quick and full recovery and pray that his family will hold on in this hard time. 
To God be the glory.
ODP Forever.

Posted in #ODP_FaceOff Kings & Queens


​Ruth Vaati Nyamai, Kenya.

ODP Faceoff Queen

Season 3, Episode 8

You said the sun sets to end the day, but not a hope for tomorrow,

You told me that every second of my life is an image of the last shadow,

One that never leaves the sky,

No matter how dark it gets,

One that never shuts down,

No matter how cold it gets.
You promised to stay forever and keep watching the horizon,

Stay by my side so I’m not scared of the nights,

Teach me to be brave and keep vigil till dawn,

Teach me to be more than a tiger and a fighter.
See dad, I’m half of what you taught me,

Sometimes I’m weak I can’t help me,

I need you back here with me,

Come let’s watch the last ray together.
I love you daddy 

©VaatiN 2017
ODP Forever

Posted in Rich Kids

Rich Kids Of Kenyatta Road


Story by Kelvin Mutune; Machakos, Kenya.

My pen bleeds again and it’s my beloved K-Road I want to talk about. But before that, I wish to thank all who read my other article on Kenyatta Road and went on ahead to read my other articles and poems. I write for people to read and it gives me much joy when I achieve that aim.
Back to business.
When I moved to Kenyatta Road last year, I didn’t expect it to be this fun. I mean, what’s fun about dusty roads (MCA, see to this) and kikuyu-speaking folk (no offence intended). I only knew a few people and they rarely visit my man-cave. So I turned to solitude and embraced it with all I had. I would stay indoors from Friday evening to Monday morning and still be alright. For those who know me from a personal level they’ll tell you that I love reading. So I would stock up on coffee, snacks and a whole new playlist then get to my weekend. That has since changed, I now have what you rich kids call a clique.
 This was initiated at a movie shop in New Wood where I go pick movies and music from. I was a loyal customer who would go for the latest music and movies regularly but at first it was all business until the attendant, the first member of my ‘Those-who-shan’t-be-named’ clique, told me one fateful Friday evening that maybe I should hang out there longer to see if I’ll like the people who frequent his business premise, not to buy movies but to pass time. I agreed.

 Later that night, I was to meet one very beautiful lady, and a bunch of other guys who are the funniest folk ever to live. I tried to milk the phone number out of that pretty girl, I succeeded in getting her number only to be  friend-zoned later that night. Her name is Narnia (Narnia business). I loved the people there and from that day onwards, my ‘Those-who-shan’t-be-named’ clique began growing. Every evening, I make a point of going to that movie shop and say hi to folks.
Those-who-shan’t-be-named is no ordinary clique. We tell of stories that are not meant to be said out aloud, but we still do tell those stories, and if they are funny we will laugh our *beeeep * out. We will compliment a lady with the most insanely honest words in the English Lingua, then we will appreciate the beauty with our eyes. Many of you will call that ‘ufisi‘ but we prefer to call it ‘Appreciating God’s work with our eyes wide open’. We will talk of our high school days till late at night and we will only go to sleep because the Police canter ‘Black Maria‘ has been seen roaming around looking for victims. 
So Narnia and some friend from my high school days had been inviting me to this awesome church not far from where I live. I heeded their call one Sunday and accompanied them. It was a wonderful experience I tell you. I met totally new people and all. But most of all I learnt the new and rich meaning of clique.
These rich kids will never cease to amaze me. I knew that a clique is a group of people you hang out with until I met the rich kids of K-Road. I learnt that a clique is not a clique unless you eat pizza every Tuesday. I learnt a clique is not a clique unless you all have foreign accents when hanging out. And most importantly, a clique is not a clique unless you take selfies and pics of everything you are doing. Being a resourceful young man aspiring to be rich someday, I decided to introduce my findings to Those-who-shan’t-be-named. I was received well, with a good laughter and a hell whole lot of roasting. I was called all kinds of names that day, and even one asked, “Mimi unaona nikikaa light skin? Mimi?”. Well, he’s nothing close to lightskin, I even doubt if it’s a skin he has. It might be a hide for all I care.
Being a Rich Kid, or trying to be one, has its consequences. You can’t live in peace without a clique. And mark you, if you are terrible at taking selfies like I am, you’ll have trouble fitting in. You’ll meet your friend who is a rich kid, and also lightskin, who is wearing make up, a matte lipstick and a crop top and ask her what she’s been up to. Her fake American accent will kick in as she narrates, ” Aaaawww, on Monday I went with my clique to Java for Coffee as we talked about KUWTK, oh my! It was really nice to see them. Then Tuesday we went to imax to watch triple X and later went to Pizza Inn to grab some pizza. Alafu ebu imagine Patty Alikula pizza mzima peke yake. We took an Uber home and met in Two Rivers on Wednesday for some coldstone…” She’ll continue yapping about her Uber rides, the the model who wants to date her (you had all along thought the model was gay until then) then you’ll go home to have some time of your own to see your life and try to correct where you went wrong. You’ll look up KUWTK in Google only to find its Keeping up with the Kardashians. 
Selfies of her eating pizza with her clique, or drinking coldstone or outside imax will get you doubting if yours is a clique or a bunch of guys who think alike. Then you’ll painfully remember how you and your bunch of guys had planned to go to Imax at dawn so that you pay 200 for a movie and then go home after that to take brunch. Sad, right?
ODP Forever.

Posted in Joy

Neighbours From Rabai


I wake up to a deafening cry

The cry of a little baby

Oh! How comforting the sound is

I try to go back to sleep

But the intense smoke won’t let me

Mama Lau is fanning her charcoal ‘jiko’

Getting ready to cook ‘mahamri’ for breakfast

Grandma is unbelievably energetic

She bangs on her grand children’s door

Yelling at them to get ready for school

Grandpa is equally nuts

Gertrude routinely wipes poop off her baby brother

She changes the diaper chanting a Rabai folk song.
Soon it’s midday because I smell Una, the fish

Little Mercy tells her mom about school

A nasty fight

A crack head who tried to take her lunch money 

And a flooded classroom

Baby starts to cry again

Mama Lau crushes a coconut and digs for its milk

Cooks some rice with it for the baby

She then goes out calling Mama Amina’s name

She owes her fifty shillings for ‘mahamri’.

Grandpa comes home

He’s carrying Nile perch dripping water

He shouts for someone to make dinner 

Everyone is home

Everyone is still shouting

Everyone is happy

A family from the valley of Mikanjuni

My neighbours from Rabai.

Matolo Kyalo Jr.
Seasons & Times of Gabussar Mathers
‘I love Our Daily Poetry for all the days of my life and beyond’ – Gabussar.

ODP Forever.
©May, 2017

Posted in Rich Kids

​The Rich Kids of Kenyatta Road

Story by Kelvin Kimanthi Mutune; Machakos, Kenya.

The Wordsmith


The Rich Kids of Kenyatta Road is a recount of what happens around the writer. He tries to bring out his and his friends’ experiences in a funny way. The series is set on an area called Kenyatta Road, along Thika Superhighway. Kenyatta Road has one of the wealthiest societies along the highway, hence the name of this series. As the writer interacts with his friends he picks up stuff that might be worthy of writing about and then with the help of some irony and exaggeration, “The Rich Kids of Kenyatta Road” is born.


Beware! Lest the dusty road and the forsaken-looking buildings along the road deceive you. Kenyatta Road, mostly known as K-Road, houses one of the most affluent societies along Thika Road. The value of the cars that grace this dusty strip of road can quadrupole the cars along tarmacked estates like the famous umoja. You’ll see a Fortuner and find it’s your friend behind the wheel and on close investigation you’ll find it was a hand-me-down from his millionaire dad. That’s how rich these peeps are.

When your dad is a millionaire, and your mom another millionaire and your older brother yet another millionaire, what do you become? You become a Rich Kid. Yes, and around here there are so many of them. Being a kid who’s not any way close to being called rich, I know a rich kid when I see one. They’ll dress simply (I said simply, not cheaply. You’ll see Prada somewhere and your nose will occasionally catch a Calvin Klein scent), not like those eastlando kids who dress like clowns, and they’ll walk as if the whole world rotates around how they walk, they will have original foreign accents (sorry eastlando fellas with your plastic accents) and most of all these rich kids will have attitude. 

They can’t simply “punguza” their a-t-t because theirs is inborn. It was inculcated in them since birth. They woke up to find a silver platter on their hands, literally. They want nutella, a box of nutella is bought. Not like some of us who’d ask for peanut butter and would get hit with peanuts on our faces and orders to go roast them ourselves. Anyways, why would you not have attitude if all you ever wanted was given to you ten fold? You just clear your throat and a doctor is dragged from a surgical operation to come take a look at you. Even if it were me, I’d have attitude. These kids don’t know what lack is. They grew up believing in the existence of the tooth fairy and Santa. They even silently believe that elves do exist!

Woe unto you if you are a guy trying to get a rich kid to love you. These rich girls are a hard nut to crack I tell you. Take her to Debonair’s and to her it will be substandard. You’ll sweat off to pay the bill as she’s taking selfies hashtagging captions like #ThisDudeAaarrgghh, #BrokeAf, you get the drift? Wait until she takes you out, you’ll eat at a 5-star, a meal that you can’t even pronounce the name and the bill will make you choke on the sip of wine. Then she will not even twitch. Raise an eyebrow, naaahh! Why? Coz she’s a rich kid, from K-Road, with a millionaire dad and a chauffeur waiting for you guys downstairs. She’ll pick her Louis Vuitton purse, pull out another Louis Vuitton mini purse and inside it pull gold embedded credit card. By this time, your mouth will be wide agape. This will make your Debonair’s stunt seem like a skit and your heart will sink to depths unfathomable.

But bro, lemme give you a rich kid hack. They love the simple things. Walk her home in the evening, hold her hand at dusk and for heaven’s sake you guys even have a railway line running across your estate, let her balance herself on the rails and help her by holding her waist and she’ll automatically wrap her hands on your shoulders. If you want to impress her with money you’ll never win. Thank me later 😉
Thank you for stopping by.

Catch CHAPTER TWO next week only on ODP.

Giving Hope.


ODP Forever.