Celebrating East African Writing!

My Politician by Paul Kariuki

His words were music too sweet

That rang down the busy street

‘I stand for you,I ain’t lax

 I don’t fleece you when you pay tax’


The politician was in town

Traversing in and out,up and down

Left to centre,right to left

 From high podium to cool loft


His voice boomed and hands danced

Fingers twirled and the body swayed

‘Cast me your vote,select me

 And elect me,none besides me’


Flamboyantly,he went about

His plans being his rival to rout

‘I stand by you,to fight for you

 I honor my word,and its true’


The hungry masses listened bored

And watched as his mouth worked

‘You shall have food on the table

 For I will make life stable’


The loud cheers made him smile

To wind up with a simile

‘We stand united and shall fight

 Like bulls without a fright’

This writer is 27 years old, deaf, the ubiquitous writer trying to curve a niche in world of writing. You can write to him about his writing at


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