Category Archives: Jul’s Poetry

I can’t get over those Dimples

In shedding off my inhibitions, I have written a love poem inspired by a man’s smile. I think I should do more of this. Tell me what you think. Is it a hit or a miss?


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A crevice into this heart, has been dug by those dimples,
Crevices that dig on your face with your smiles,
Why torture me with your smile so simple,
Gives me goose bumps as big as pimples,
Like a painting on canvas with different shades of purple,
The art, your smile remains in mind like a wrinkle.

Though I try as much, I can’t seem to wimple,
This feeling that has me acting like a cripple,
Neither can I disguise it with a simple wimple,
While walking in front of you I sometimes topple,
Ah! Those crevices on your face cause ripples,
Ripples of emotions I can’t seem to bundle.

In my pretense I eat pieces of pineapple,
So I may appear normal to other people,
God knows I’ve tried all including apples,
The phrase ‘apple of my eye’ still triples,
Toward you, maybe  we were meant to be a couple,
Those crevices, fixed in my mind with staples,
Are no longer just simple dimples.

Juliet Awuor ©2016


Alone in the midst of many

Just found this poem that described my state of mind back then. No, I am not depressed, so everyone, relax and enjoy the read. I am just a person who loves playing with words. This poem is part of my unpublished book.

Photo: Wilson Mrema

They laugh, some smile,
Talking, I smile back,
Though the language simple,
T’is yet complex.

They are laughing, some are smiling,
Talking a language, I smile back,
The one I seem to not understand,
Tears hidden in this broad smile,
The brave smile that always comes,
To keep tears at bay, lest anyone knows,
The secret is for me and mine,
Though deep inside, I scream aloud,
Telling is no option of mine,
Time alone will tell the secrets,
That cannot hide themselves.


Juliet Awuor © 2014

Beat me to death and beat me to die

super-glue and broken heart copy

You beat me up, as if I was down,
Slapped sense into my mind,
Disregarded your seed I had inside,
A stomach so ripe with child,
You had to prove your worth,

To slap some sense into my mind,
You beat me to death,
Tearing my heart to pieces,
Slowly I picked up scraps of my heart,
Glued them back together as good as new,
The glue called grace did wonders,

This plastic smile a constant practice,
No one could tell my once,
Shattered heart was made, whole,
By the glue of grace,
so perfect in place,

You beat me to death in your thought,
Attended my burial yet,
Refused to bury your flesh and blood,
Thought you beat me to death,
Yet you beat me to dying,

You beat me to death, and beat me to dying,
Even in your death, you still beat my mind,
Are you worth the pain?
Who will slap some sense,
Into my mind?

Juliet Awuor © 2016

Image credits

Thank you my dear ‘Almost’ valentine


Thank you for reminding me of my musical side. I even had a dream that you were teaching me the guitar. How we would be the perfect match, you know, the type that’s only read in mills and boon? I had to jolt myself awake from that stupid dream, you know. Thank you!

Thank you for making me dream of the possibility of a relationship with a guy I could have intelligent conversations with. Sing along to his guitar skills on our dates at the park. Maybe read a book together. Side by side, me and you, the perfect couple.

Thank you for making me draw near to God. I thought God must be really merciful. He sent a brother my way, despite my silence toward Him.  And to crown it, he sent a worshiper, a man after His own heart. Who is part of the worship team in church. A man of God!

Thank you for your proposal that clearly, should have left me melting like Ooh! Someone finally asked me to marry them. I am sorry if my response sounded harsh, but it was sincere. WhatsApp proposals are not just my thing.

Thank you for finally gathering courage and meeting me. For the hug, for that short ride in your car. For opening your car like a gentleman and dropping me on the bus stop. I must say you looked sharp in that black suit and red tie.  Prospects to whet a girl’s appetite. Thank you.

Thank you because I now know you are a family man. I remembered congratulating you on your wedding photos, and in person. But then again, many things could have happened after all these years. I was waiting for your explanation. It just didn’t come from you, but thank you, now I know better.

Thank you for the good mornings and good night chats. I must say they boosted my self esteem. You know ‘being alone‘ as your proposal said, sometimes is a curse that single ladies need to be rescued from. Thank you for your efforts.

Thank you, but the messages have to stop. Direct them to the right person. Your wife will really appreciate some goodnight kisses and good morning dear messages on her phone, don’t you think?  I feel complete as a single lady in waiting. But sincerely,  I thank you.

Thank you because I know we will still be good friends, just like old times. Do you remember? We were barely in our 20s, and treated each other with respect. Old friends are good to keep, you know. Thank you for remembering this old friend.

Image credit.

Ogyek Heritage

By Juliet Jacqline
Mau Forest

My father named me Ogyek,
I was born here in the Mau,
Grew up and learned the art of hunting,
My uncles call me a brave warrior,
Is this what you call bravery?
Our houses are burnt in our watch?
I helplessly stare in stupor.

They are protecting the source,
Source of water and life for many,
Tell me, what wrong do I,
My sisters and mother commit
When faithfully we gather
Roots, fruits and shoots?
I helplessly stare in stupor.
Mau is my land, my heritage,
My proud father,
Who was taught by his father,
Taught me to be a responsible father,
To teach generations to come,
Of our ways, conservation before
Self-preservation. I helplessly stare in stupor.

Oh! this land of honey, meat and insects,
Fresh water, roots and shoots,
Never dig, cut trees, said my father,
Respect this land, it’ll respect you,
Aliens invaded the land of our heritage,
Cut trees with abandon, and did the never,
That’s why today, I helplessly stare in stupor.

The great warrior, lost all fight,
A brave coward stands helpless,
Men, women and children once happy,
Laughter replaced by teary faces,
Homes once warm with fireside stories,
Now hot with flames as chief’s men stand,
How do I fight them? I helplessly stare in stupor.

Can fish live out of water?
Can Ogyek survive without Mau?
This once brave warrior, fearless in all ways,
Now stands defeated by alien greed
The kind that looks at trees as millions,
And land as an asset to be devoured,
Aliens’ curse! So we helplessly stare in stupor.

I am Ogyek, the rightful descendant,
Mau my heritage, of milk, honey,
Streams snaking fresh water,
Trees and shrubs! My home all my life,
Chief men, please! Don’t do this!
Greedy Aliens deserve this brutality;
Harmless Ogyek helplessly stares in stupor.

(This poem was originally posted in my previous blog)

Image Credit

Alone by Maya Angelou


Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don’t believe I’m wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

There are some millionaires
With money they can’t use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They’ve got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I’ll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
‘Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Image credits

Poem source.


Image credit:
Image credit:

That woman means the whole world to me.
Many are quick to criticize her,
She is more than grandma to me, she’s Ma,
She taught me values in life.
Yes, I am proud of Ma,
Despite what you may call her.

I overheard her telling her sister.
How her daughter killed my brothers and sisters.
That day, Ma walked in just in the nick of time.
Found me crying on the hands of my ma,
About to be baptized in a basin full of water.
“Don’t do it!” she shouted at ma.
She saved me from sharing in my siblings’ fate.

I know she has her weaknesses, who doesn’t?
You dare call her whore, prostitute, loose,
spit unutterable obscenities at her.
You even gossip that she has AIDS,
I simply call her Ma, for she has more than earned that title.
She stepped in when ma wanted me dead.
That’s enough reason to stick my neck for her.

She leaves each morning for work.
Imagined she works in a busy office,
Ma must have had a lot of work daily.
She comes back home tired, hair to toe nail.
Sometimes I pray to God I grow up faster.
At least I would get a job,
At last I would help my Ma out.

Ma wants to hear none of it.
Ma does not make things sound so easy.
“Jobs are hard to come by.” She says.
Focus on books, get a good job in the future
what good is the future without Ma?
A future, taking forever to get here,
Does the future know what Ma goes through?
To bring bread back home,
The bed, her tool, to bring bread to her brood,
A tool that’s left her permanently scarred,
I know it but would rather keep silent,
Ma thinks she’s protecting me, keeping secrets,
I am the one protecting her, feigning ignorance.

© Juliet Awuor 2014

Sanitizing reality for unseasoned minds

Borrowed from:
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Borrowed from:

Mama, where do babies come from?
Babies come from birds;
You have to feed the birds,
So they would stay longer,
And visit often to bring a baby.

Papa, how did we get a new sister?
Simple, when I went to get your ma,
She was at the baby market,
She had gone to choose the best,
So a befitting sister we bought.

Teacher, why do I squat as I pee,
Yet he stands when he does?
Because you are different,
I don’t want to be different,
Ask your ma and pa, you’ll know.

Sister, what are pads used for?
They are diapers for adults,
Why do adults need diapers?
You are still young to understand,
When will I understand? I need answers.

Grandma, why do girls’ bellies grow?
Because  they stand with boys,
And play with boys. Avoid boys,
A boy told me he loved me,
Am I pregnant? Will my belly grow?

I am confused by everyone,
The more I ask, the more I sink,
Adults tell me different nothings,
About realities of life, tangling the tale,
Sanitizing reality for my unseasoned mind.

Juliet H. Amor


Photo borrowed from:
Photo borrowed from:

I look at the news and oh!
It feels overwhelming lately,
Cost of living rises daily,
Cost of labor not keeping pace

Seems this culture of rushing and running,
Has gained new momentum,
Everyone’s in a hurry,
Hurrying to where? I wonder
Or are they running from something
Perhaps, perhaps that might be true.

Excuse me, where is everyone going?
What’s the cause of the hurry? I ask,
Polite lass stops to give an answer,
Eyes still gazing on the road ahead,
It s chasing us run! Or else,
T’ll catch up with you.

What seems to be this problem’s answer?
Build capacity to live above,
Above storms that try to swallow
The weak will be swallowed
The world’s a tough place
No place for the weak.

Awake to the tough reality,
Life is a race against time,
Arise and race on,
Add value, work harder, and keep dreaming,
But not for long, take action,
Before it catches up and traps you.

Juliet H. Amor