Abiney Kitooke Writings

GOALKEEPER You joined us in the last days of January Some good years ago, say over three decades Your departure left the other team in fury That even after thirty years their joy still fades; Your arrival however made our team too merry As we hoped for a shift from tails to heads. You had a fertile beginning, just like loam Your story's been told since you were eighteen Too many medals you've been taking home Man of the match for years you've been You've been to cities larger than Rome So all your riches all of us have seen. It's bad news you once ignored a landing ball Were you anger-driven since defenders were few, Or you assert you just weren't strategically tall? Well, many of us saw in you a pretending Jew; We admitted their goal and mourned our fall Though we kept quiet, for to us you were new. When bit by bit your performance deteriorated We trained your counterpart in the Second Eleven Knowing fully that you'd one day get exhausted And need a substit...

NSIYALEETA He could earn his living by fixing Whatever went wrong, preferably Used-up latrines, broken walls and dysfunctional pool tables. Nsiyaleeta would occasionally peep through Mawejje's latrine hole To check the depth there remained So he would predict when to drill a new pit for him He did this as frequently as his poverty pressed him; One doomed evening as he risked His wide nose against the all-pervading miasma To face the familiar hole with accustomed eyesight, Mawejje appeared, club in hand, and barked at him— The former no longer needed the latter He had had an alternative, it was said That he had in the morning hired a septage technician Whose vacuum truck drained the excrement away So my poor Nsi had no job this time! Vexed, Nsi ran into Kasumba's close Tarrying between the verandahs of that great mogul To check for crevices in the walls; An askari appeared, gun in hand, and barked at him— The former no longer needed the latter He had had an alternative, it was s...

Tears of Tired Men When you meet men with dehydrated orbits Palm-staked chins and shining cheeks And think it’s make-up, You’ve failed the first test. Check all ticked items on your to-do list Check why and when you did what to who Send spies to go into the ramification. Don’t get gobsmacked when you learn That the men with shining cheeks are the same men Whose big-budget mansions you ordered to burn Because their names clouded your docket But they never turned up for trials So what did you expect? The arsonist, psychiatrists say, was not a pyromaniac. When you think it’s the blazing smoke that rose To the sky and formed nimbus, then rain, When you think it’s this rain that fell on the men’s cheeks, You’ve failed the second test. Their eyes drained of all fluid, Their throats silently vibrating, Their shoulders uncontrollably dropping, Their souls in unspeakable grief, These men, their flesh worn out, have done enough sobbing; So their tears inadvertently flow From sockets too innocent...

The Houseless White Egg Give me time to think Or else I'll tell a story Of the houseless white egg Which I brought to my nest Saving it from inclemency. The egg I covered and warmed With my even-handed wings And waited... The egg that soon hatched Days earlier than My own eggs And pullulated with tiny White feathers that Started yellowing slowly Still under my wings. Give me time to think Or else I'll let you know How these yellow feathers Bloomed finally into Deep yellow feathers Before I came to know The bird was a weaver. I'll also let you know How this weaverbird Soared into the air Built its own nest Laid many eggs and formed Territories 'round my nest, If I don't get time to think. The time my own eggs hatched  Already, I was a captive My fledglings homeless. O noisy weaverbirds! Saltating from branch to branch Singing deafening songs At each happy aurora Is part of their life. So when the sun wakes up It's my humble fledglings That lose their peace. O yel...

Greetings. Welcome to Abiney Kitooke Writings.  Abiney Kitooke  is a Ugandan writer who majorly focuses on poetry and drama . He is born to Mr. Erisa Bakengana and  Mrs. Peridasi Bakengana of Kiganda Subcounty, Mubende district in Central Uganda. Currently, he has two plays, My Luggage and Lines of Symmetry. He is also working on a poetry collection, Tears of Tired Men. The writer is a student of Makerere University Kampala, pursuing a Bachelor's in Food Science and Technology. His earlier phases of education took place at Standard Integrated Primary School Kiganda, Highway Secondary School Kiganda and St. Mary's College Lugazi. This site therefore is designed to enable his followers and well-wishers participate fully in his journey as far as writing is concerned. Please don't hesitate to contact him via any of the following platforms: Cell: +256781132664 WhatsApp: +256705174586 Imo: +256705174586 Twitter: @abineytooke Facebook (direct messaging): Kitooke Lastbor...