THE HUSTLER

He roughly pushes through the populous kikubo lane.

The titanic load on the head sinking his neck into his torso forcing his body to dwarf.

“Fasi..Fasi…”his mouth cries hoarsely, his tougue licking riverets of sweat off his hard

Muscled face. His rapid pace slows, at the bounds of the thick crowd, his eyes blindly staring at the shoes of those in front of him, waiting hopefully for them to give space.

A sharp pain cut into his left ear like water puffed through the nose

The rhythmical throbbing of his heart climbing to the head                                                                                         he felt hot. So hot that it hurt….

His blood boiling at an increased degree.

His head pounding hard as it swayed upfront and back.

“A voice was calling….”

His hands weakened letting loose of the load, suddenly his head felt heavy as his whole body slipped away from his will to reach his destination,

“Aim not going to be paid…..”His mind concluded.

He felt his head thinning, separating from the load at the jet of his breath as he fell on top of his face.

Nakisanze Segawa, 3^rd winner BNPA 2010, under the theme Money and Culture. She won 100 USD and autographed copies of poetry by prolific poets including  Unjumping by Nambozo Nsengiyunva

A hand swing of disguised depravity

I held tight to a hand that had been kissed by the world and-
Whose coarse grip fronted bliss that disguised depravity.
Where dust and perspiration mingled together and formed lines
That picked at strings rhythmically and released inward emotion
In expressed canto.
I held tight to a hand whose grip spoke words and let known dreams;
Swinging to and fro,
Controlling my feelings and etching a desire on my simple heart.
A hand that had known tears and shivered with fears and felt blood….
I held on to this hand to secure a place of wish.

I held astute watch into those strained and weary morose eyes
For any allusion of vanity in the person whose hand held mine,
Refusing to accept false benevolence.
I held a hand in affectionate appeal to a heart that was once wounded
Swinging to and fro
In attempt to unwind the angst on a crippled soul.
A hand that had known peace and blissful days full of relish able moments
I held tight to this hand to secure a place of contentment.

I held a hand that taut befalling a seraph of mercy
To a chafed and murky soul that shone tacit misery on a day.
A life lived as a lie so that certainty is forgotten amid all its mirth…
I held on to a hand interminably that loved me….liberally;
Swinging to and fro
Securing our perpetual bond.
A hand that gave though it had naught…
I held on to this hand to comprehend the being.

This poem above by Sanyu Kisaka, won first prize in the 3rd BN annual Poetry award.She won 500 USD and autographed copies of poetry by prolific poets including  Unjumping by Beverley Nambozo Nsengiyunva