Lewis Mbatia

Days of the Week

Monday: Oh, Tuesday, you don’t know the troubles that I go through. I always get the grumbles and the tired faces. They are always waiting for me to leave. As soon as the sun shines its light on me, they start cursing out, asking for the sun to quicken its pace. But it is all […]

Days of the Week Read More »

boat on a raging waters

Confidence in the tempest

Time ebbs and flows to a melodic rhythm akin to the sway of nature. At times it is smooth and calm, and we smell the roses and write down gratitude journals as we sip on chamomile tea. Other times it rages, and as a tempest it rocks our lifeboats, swinging us into utter chaos. And

Confidence in the tempest Read More »

the small things

In my mind, I dream of days unseen. I dream of beautiful days full of bliss and laughter. I pick from former smiles and past banter, the joys of life and paste them onto that future. I see you look into my eyes, your soul’s purity and innocence looking back at me. At that moment,

the small things Read More »

The Silenced Night

The night screams and groans in agony as the silence strangles and chokes the life out of it. The day, long gone, can’t come to its rescue. And the moon, deaf and mute, hears none of its cries. The dogs, as if mourning the loss of the night, wail in sequence, one after the other

The Silenced Night Read More »

Stumps

The wind is lazy. The leaves hold still in defiance. They won’t be nudged today. A quiet hush floats through the air, carrying with it the occasional caw of the odd bird. The earth takes a moment of silence for the trees, now ashes, that once were – the trees whose story lies in the

Stumps Read More »

ideas

Passing Thoughts

The songbird sings. The bell rings. The clock chimes. The farm is rich in limes. A slow dance, a quick pounce, just one chance, to steal a glance. The songs of old, hide memories gold, stories untold, yet to behold. Who knows, what shows, secrets in coves, hidden behind cute bows. I did try, she

Passing Thoughts Read More »

worn-off shoes

Denial

His eyes were bloodshot, and his breath heavy. He was the kind of man who never ran from anything. The kind your brain would arm-twist you not to walk towards. He sat on the seat closest to the door. Or rather, the rest of the attendees sat on their chairs as his chair carried him

Denial Read More »

addiction

Addiction

Each go offers joy and tops it with satisfaction – every indulgence getting better and better. You want more. You dig deeper and deeper. Where was this all my life? How can I live without this? And like most things worthwhile, you run after it, chasing it down the valleys and into the woods. Do

Addiction Read More »

wheelbarrow full of old flowers in a garden

Letting Go

I saw you at the supermarket yesterday. You were sitting at the till punching in cash. I thought you looked tired – tired but beautiful. Yeah, I know, you don’t believe that is possible. But you did. Your eyes were droopy, and your face looked innocent. You puckered up your lips in concentration. The smooth

Letting Go Read More »

Shadow’s Night

The dead of the night. The night of the dead. Frankie’s passes by Julie’s and is mesmerized by her curves, smooth and shapely. She appears tall, much taller than Frankie’s, but he doesn’t mind. Height does not matter to him. And although shapes are not permanent, he does have his preferences. The night grows darker

Shadow’s Night Read More »