Happy Poetry Day part 7: Angie Ngugi.


We’ve made it to the last day of this celebration. And I have to say that this did me so much more good than I thought it would. So thank you for tagging along. Now for the finale! Today’s featured artist is Angie Ngugi!

“My name is Angie Ngugi, a poet, writer, feminist and medic who is passionate about telling stories and personal experiences through poetry.”

It’s not that you weren’t perfect, you were.
It wasn’t the fact that you weren’t enough, you over flowed.
You made me feel loved.
You were gentle.
I saw you today.
I was a bit surprised to see you since last I heard you had moved to another part of town.
Yet here you were,
Right in front of me.

It had been two years since I last saw you, so a lot was going through my mind.
You had changed, a little.
You had a new spring in your step, you looked happy.

I was having a bad day so you were the last person I needed to see.
I couldn’t faceyou, especially after how we ended things.
My first instinct was to run and hug you.
Muscle memory, I guess
I wanted to ask you if life had been kind to you.
Whether you finally accomplished all your dreams,
Dreams that used to be ours
But it wasn’t my place, anymore.

I watched you walk away from me, again
I wish I hadn’t let you go but all I would have said was
“It’s not that you weren’t perfect, you were.
It wasn’t the fact that you weren’t enough, you over flowed.
You made me feel loved
You were gentle.”

And it just isn’t fair to drop that on someone Especially after two years, the AUDACITY.
So I let you go,
Like I did, two years ago.

Thank you all. For helping me grow in hope. I needed this.


Mutheu wa Sumbi

Happ Poetry Day part 6: Hopeshi.

Hey again. So we’ve made it to day six. Day, idk for your journey in self isolation. I hope you’ve spoken to someone that loves you, deeply. (virtual hug). Now I present today’s feature… Hopeshi.

Hi. I’m Hope also known as Miss Hopeshi, a lover of life and a creative. I love creating content in form of videos on YouTube and writing on my blog. Find me on YouTube and Instagram @misshopeshi. My website is hopeshi.com

While growing up, I kept complaining to my mum that people(in public) always look at me so so so so so much. Have I emphasized enough? She told me that I’d get used to it. Well, I’m 23 now and they’re still staring, Mom!

Most of my friends who I walk with in town/ public places, normally complain that guys are staring. haha, sorry I don’t know why they do it. I just politely reply “that ukitembea na Mimi itabidi uzoee”

A couple of times I’ve been to dates (like twice, I don’t go to dates often, story for another day) where the guys have pointed out that the ladies serving us “wameniangalia vibaya”
I don’t know whether they tell me this to promote female rivalry or what because personally when I’m alone, I barely notice such things until it’s pointed out to me.

These kind of scenarios got me wondering, how am I going to live going forward?

For instance, the other day (to be specific Saturday) I was in the supermarket with my sister and gosh, have you ever thought you’re trending somewhere and you don’t know? Or your printed picture lays somewhere plastered on a tree written “WANTED”, Or a picture written “thief” is on the supermarket notice board showing a nervous you stealing from the supermarket’s shelves. Or worst case scenario, your face is somewhere plastered on a tree (several trees) printed, “MAPENZI,NGUVU ZA KIUME, PESA! CALL THIS NUMBER 0712345678”
how the poster would look like

Back to the storytime. I was busy window shopping for the TV I’d want in future (a girl can only dream) when these two guys (millennials, men, maybe early 20s) stared at me suspiciously. You know, that kind of stare just before someone says hi. That one. I had to walk in between them to make them stop staring. They never did say hi even though I could see it in their eyes…

It felt like an episode of an Indian movie where me as a character would turn and bang their 2 heads together and they would fall! I would then stand on them victoriously and proclaim, “Staring is rude guys!!”
They’d learn their lesson and never stare. Again.

I digress.

So, at this point I know you might be wondering whether I’m the one asking for the attention, maybe by “my dressing” or sth. But lemme be honest, when I’m dressed to kill, I am normally comfortable with the stares because, you know, I’d stare at myself too??
But when all I’m wearing is some baggy jeans, a hoodie and no make-up, plus I had my ugly glasses, like bro? 😭 nothing about me would/should pass interest.

I really wished the two gentlemen did say hi or sth because this would have definitely mitigated the awkwardness. They dead-ass triggered my anxiety!

Point of this long story is, SAY HI GUYS whenever we meet in these streets. I don’t bite!

Isn’t it happy for today’s post, HAPPY NEW MONTH ☺️.

If you suffer from anxiety, the link below might be of help. You are welcome!

Stay lovely.


Mutheu wa Sumbi

Happy World Poetry day part 5: thesarcasticbanterist

Hi everyone

So we are at day five of this post once a day celebration. And day *insert number here* of social and physical distancing / quarantine. So here is something different you can feast on. Bio below….

Hi people of the internets! I’m thesarcasticbanterist. I’m both moody and bubbly depending on who you ask. I live in the grey with occasional dips in black or white. I love writing. To me it’s like taking a chaotic bunch of wool and knitting an intricate sweater. Check out my blog if you are so inclined.


Every so often I look back at some of my most impactful friendships. In self reflection you can’t help but remember the people who either hurt you and left a dent or people you hurt to the point of pushing them away.

This is a draft of a letter I wrote to a friend once. A depressed friend. I’m not a psychologist. I didn’t know how to separate myself from a situation. I just soaked it all in like a sponge until I couldn’t tell myself apart from her problems. I had to learn to navigate depression from the seat of a friend. Mental health awareness is only in its infancy. Awareness on how to be the friend of a depressed person is only in its conception if being considered at all. Nobody talks about the resentment and guilt. It’s not trendy right now. I’m still learning but I’ve come such a long way. What I’ve learned is that sometimes compassion is a skill. An active process. It’s not always an automatic switch even if you love them.

‘There are few things I truly hate. One of them being words left unsaid between friends. I realise you may have a limited quota of things to care about at the moment. And I may not be in that list. Fair enough. You’ve said you hadn’t truly felt comfortable opening up to me but you did to some extent. I should’ve considered that a privelage. How many people can say we express even a fraction of our truest selves to. I can count on maybe one hand. I didn’t mean to undermine your suffering. But I can see how my actions reflected that. It is now that I realise something I’ve known but never truly appreciated as true, there’s a big difference between caring about someone and showing that you care about someone. I assure you you never stopped being one of my best friends. A person I deeply respected even if I fell short of showing it in recent times. I’ve been the worst example of a friend by allowing something as ugly as frustration and anger to soil something as pure as compassion. Five years is a long time. Or maybe it isn’t. It’s all perspective I guess. In a couple of decades you might not even remember my name. It was hard. Sometimes the person in front of me seemed locked away somewhere unreachable and in trying to get to you with the smallest chisel. Nobody denies your strength but being strong also means being able to admit when you are weak. . In my desperate attempt to change your mindset I set myself up for disappointment. But I want you to know that the world is not out to get you. There are people who do love you and want to see you do well. More importantly I hope you stop looking for love in all the wrong places. ‘

Thank you for your responses and love on this series. You amaze me daily.


Mutheu wa Sumbi

Happy Poetry Day. Part 3.

The Artist I am featuring today is:

Jairus Ong’etta.

He is a spoken word artist, actor and writer.He is the first ever Mr. Albinism Kenya as well as the founder of the contemporary mime group, Mime Kenya. His poetry skills have given him platforms to showcase his dexterity with words, which has led him to being part of the Zebra Poetry Film Festival in Münster, Germany.
He’s taken part at the TEDx event (Buruburu) as a speaker _
He has won the Kenyatta University’s Poet of The Year Award amongst others.
Last year his short film MISFIT, got a silver dhow award at the Zanzibar International Film festival.

His goal in life is to use his art to radiate hope and heal hearts around the world.

I don’t want to imagine

I think of those mornings that invite dark days. when sunlight rains and drenches you of pain, past.

When the rays blindfold you to let you see your castle crumble and the seas allow you to watch your peace of mind being carried away by the waves

I hear of trees in the Amazon whistling away dirges

of spoons scooping from feeble plates

when you see life losing its breathe

When fake oxygen chokes your lungs and_

of wishes in form of horses that not even the rich can ride

of love spelled as H A.T.E

when the second hand on the clock decides to tick faster

when the rooster crows at noon

Of flowing blood forced to break it’s banks

to rob lives,
to paint disaster

of cracks rebuilding walls

of sleepless nights begging for dreams

loud voices unheard

of wrong teachings in form of songs replayed on our stereos

I don’t want to imagine saying Amen before making a prayer

those limps and staggers of a sober mind

of lambs roaring

once rolling wheels, now motionless tyres in the
hands of a mob burning a mugler.

when justice says neigh but the I’s have it.

genuine cries but viewed as childish temper tantrums best ignored

when green shouts move but red doesn’t even have have the strength to say stop

So i paint my thoughts colorless

pull these triggers and shoot away stereotypes

collabo with the shooting stars in the music of light

when Kenya will embrace truth and see the potential energy lying all over

maybe we should replace oxygen with inert gases if that’s the way to breathe out brightness.

cause if my thermometer is going to measure the same temperatures then I don’t want to imagine

His social media:


Stick around for more awesome Features.

Xxx Mutheu wa Sumbi

Did you know?

How massive of a universe you are. How you are in within, out without, up down and around. Inside outside. God, you are metal, wood, coal and stone, you are element, body, wind and soul. You are memory, foundation, feeling, sorrow.

You are sad, sensitive, sensual and sexy. You bulldozer of a being. You fleck of stardust. You pumkinspice everything.

You deep red and deep blue.

You fire, ice and light.

You earth.

You unstable periodic table.

You bipolar.

You bisexual.


You bicycle.

Hi, my name is Ivy Sumbi. I like going outside and when I can’t feel the sun’s heat on my body, I shine from within myself.

Yours spunkily

Mutheu wa Sumbi.


I cried today. Because I was angry and frustrated. That my plans weren’t working out as smoothly as they usually do. That I can’t go home as soon as I want to. That I am alone, in that way, again. Alone with my thoughts and fears. Alone with my victories.

I know who I am. I know what I want. I know how to get it. But I can’t get it right now.

That’s why I am angry, and frustrated.
That’s why I want to tackle someone.
That’s why I want to break the glass jar of bath salts that you got me.

Thats why I regret leaving you.

A love of convenience that took years to build.
Crushed into nothing by egos and silence and distance.

Why does it take so long to make something beautiful, yet it takes one sentence to ruin it all?

I still don’t know.
Maybe I’ll find out tomorrow.