Hymn To Some Virtues Poem by alexander opicho

Hymn to midnight peace,
Truce at wee from cold war,
Between Cuba and America,
Only having not known,
That Cuba is America,
And America is Cuba
Badly, you missed each other,
Like a squab misses a nest,
Now make peace for your selves,
To set us free the meek ones,
Rotting here at Guantanamo prison,

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Hymn to peace makers,
Amid turmoil in Burundi,
Women nesting harmony
Not personal love for power,
Praying for peace whatsoever,
In delicate times of politics,
In realm of man’s mad ego,
In conceited chase of vanity,
Earthly value in powerful sits,
Making us to clownishly ask,
How much power needs a man?

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Hymn to Margaret Kenyatta,
Your virtues are king-sized,
You have gone out of your way
To fight cancer head on,
Take your charity to all,
To the rural folks in the village,
In the poverty ridden hamlets,
Cancer swallows them deadly
In gulp like a cat does a squab,
Your anti-cancer kicks are heroic,
Dress your heels tough in army boots,
And kick the carcinoma out of Kenya,
For God will preserve your happiness,

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Hymn to those tuned for a powwow,
Timely mapped at Nairobi city,
To talk away the curse of poverty,
By gracing holy power of business,
Long overdue for the African child,
Wallowed in the mire for so long,
By dreaming wrongly in the right bed,
Of salary glory when ignobling is obvious,
Alas, let the powwow chiefs exorcise,
The gnome of poverty gnating our flesh,
Welcome all and enjoy your stay,
In Nairobi city the eye of Africa,
Touching the sun right in a poise,
Keep well here Nairobi is good,