Name: Jane Njoki
country : Kenya

I was born in kenya, and started writing down things because I was outraged by things that were happening at that time. I actually started writing what I couldn't say in public, indignant and righteous at 20. I stopped for a couple of years, but now that I'm in my late 20's( females are ever so bashful about stating their real age) I started writing(sort of) again. I also wrote some things that made me laugh, back then when I had a sense of humor. My friends were my first critics and had positive feedback (but were slightly biased I'm afraid.) Thank you for reading my poems.
Yours Njoki

Hopefully Not.

He winks at her with
Delicious salaciousness and
Sultry half-lidded sensuousness.
Unused to anything but
Simpering sedation,
She is seduced. She is, after all, fallible.

She flings aside her flimsy modesty,
and decorous decorum
and decides to be different.
Her eyes flirt back ferociously,
Feeling voluptuous, volatile,
And almost vindictively virile.

His wife turns suddenly.
Her eyes express,
what she Cannot say.
If she could,
She would be vocally vicious
Voluble with disgust,
And she would
Growl a symphony
Of attack.

He is unconcerned.
Behind his wife’s back,
His eyes are
flaunting, taunting, wanton.
this roguish cad! Rapscallion!
As his wife eyes rent the air with silent threats,
He, reeks of intent;
to ravage,
Possess and plunder

His look openly promises
Avid, voracious,
titillating pleasure.
She will be
Marinated like a fine steak
Spread out like a king’s feast,
he will savor her
Like a starving man.

He will steal her soul,
So softly, so quickly
That all she will feel is a pin-prick.

Ignoring his wife
her look is laden with promise,
Subtle, half-formed and hungry.
She will lick as warmly as a puppy,
Nibble as softy as a kitten,
Lap as lazily as a cat and
Be as a quiet as a mouse.

Promises and innuendoes
Maybe to be fulfilled
Hopefully not.

Copyright 2003 Njoku.


Maybe today
My child will listen
To the teacher, and begin
The illustrious journey towards
Achieving the pinnacle of knowledge.
The teacher will
Hunt me down
(because I’m never
where I’m supposed to be)
and confirm
what I have always known,

Maybe today
I will accidentally stumble
on the cure,
For whatever ails man.
I will be eating my usual sour
day-old sandwich, with cheese
And it will cure my chronic headache
my ugly wart and my mistakes
Will disappear. I will make one
For my always tired and
Terminally stupid friend
Who will go on to win the
Noble prize
For everything.

Maybe today
as I tiredly trudge home
The meaning of life will jump out at me.
I will know it’s the meaning of life,
(Because apart from my highly in-tuned intuition)
It will tell me “I’m the meaning of life.”
Normally all I want
is to get through the day,
Put off my laundry for a while,
Hope my child is not the death
of my neighbors or me.
Maybe that, 
Is the meaning of life.

Copyright njoku 2003


So there was once
This really nice girl
Who thought,
(for reasons of her own)
that everyone was against her.

Nowadays who knows?
Maybe they were.
Things seemed to happen
Without reason.
And the  reasons presented
(when she dared to ask)
did not have any reason to them.

So she ploughed on and on.
Predictably. Hoping to find a
reason to break the daily,
dreary, drudge.
To have some unexpected
Fun and excitement. To have
Something juicy and succulent
Burst and drip
Into her life.

She thought; maybe today
I’ll find my mature true love.
I’ll be swept off my feet,
By a knight in rusted Armour,
Onto a slightly run-down horse,
And off into the weak sunset
to live a life of toil and disappointment,
with snatches here and there of

If any one offers to sweep
Sweep you off your feet?
On to a horse?
Run. Reasonably fast.

Copyright njoku 2003

Bone Crushing Too

Like the screeching sound
Of chalk on a black board
You tell me you don’t love me.

Like a famished predator
Your voice hunts me down
And crushes my hopes,
My broken look
Food for your insatiable

Can’t I run faster?
Can’t I win this time?
Isn’t there anything I can do?
So as not to be consumed by you?

Tell me as you break my limbs
And my heart.
Whisper it as you
Cut me down to miserable silence
And gouge out my hope
Blinding me to
My full-of-love-envisioned future.

Wave gently as you
Leave me desolate
Almost comatose
You self-satisfied JERK
Throw out my heart
Into the nearest dumpster

Copyright Njoku 2003.


The smell tantalizing
Soft perfume
The touch as light, unobtrusive
As a butterfly

The look loaded with intent
As warm as a summers breeze
The passion
Cleopatra and Anthony

The talk
As fluttering as the birds
As coy as flowers
As vibrant as a peacock
As real as the air
As significant as air.

The seduction
Slow, sure and sweet
Not to be gulped down like cheap wine
But to be tasted
Oohed, aahed and
Mmmmed over
The kiss hesitant and warm
A discovery in a world
Full of nothing new.