Poems by Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe’st

Poems by Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe’st



I am the roadside grass
Leading hungry cattle home
(Oft when they’re bloated and belching).

I am a female dog
Fed on cleaned dry bones,
After catching elephants
For my master’s luncheon —
Lip-sealed never to bark.

I am the lantern lamp
Hidden under the bedstand,
So that none sees my lights,
I lose my rights, I lose my flights;
A cold fire I remain.

I am the cooking pot
Crumbling in the heat
Of the silent storms,
In the eye of smoke,
Cooking my master’s meat
Whose tongue bleeds saliva,
(I remain with the aroma).

I am the beast of burdens,
A donkey of scapegoat,
The load carrier of men,
I am nothing but love.

I am the mother hen,
My drooping breasts of wings
Seal out the claws of eagles
From my little chicks;
I eat poorly to feed them well.

Female dogs also catch animals,
So they must growl,
So they must howl.


A City Upon A Cowdung

Storeys upon storeys shoot,
Like deadly Devil’s Arrows,
To shake golden hands with the sun,
Whose petticoats fly in the eyes,
In pursuit for Union Jack.

The spirals of ant mounds,
And grave’s dust tinted blood red,
Puffing serpentine metallic clouds,
Through eyeless windows —
Locked eyes of humpless cows
Surviving on licking soil rich in acid.

The dusty wire-meshed clouds
Sting the shutting lungs and nostrils,
Squeezing, freezing, teasing little lives mercilessly,
Stemming public butchery amphitheater
In the Cowdunged stool.

Savage! they call us savage;
This civilized city of crimes!
Milky moon turned bloody — hardened skins,
They now sweat flames and blood,
I was laughing out loud
When they were busy promising,
Repeating their usual slogan.


Serving the Nation

The nation builders
Serve the nation
With fears and favors,
Saluting our own follies,
From heads to toes.

The nation weaverbirds
Weave the great nation
With full hearts and arms,
Utterless questions
To the catholic commands.

The ever famished cotton-brained,
Stick-insect figures
With wooden fingers
And dragon teeth
Are after perfections,
We on us,
We sweat blood.

For our poetry inventor,
Like his poetry machine,
Invents a mud of red petals,
Even the foolbegged overstand,
Our palms are firm on grounds,
Vampiring the black blood.

Wait! Wait a trickle of an eye!
We’re still busy collecting the dead,
Indian filing them in mortuaries,
Ready for the oversea barter trade.

4 thoughts on “Poems by Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe’st

  1. Great poems by Kabedoopong Piddo,i enjoy reading his works,it is sweet as said and usually filled with scents of sense.

  2. I am sincerely grateful for your help to publish three of my poems in your reputable magazine, ATUNIS MAGAZINE, Dear Mr Agronsh and the reputable team.

    Your work is worth the world wide praise.

    I wish you a growing success.

    Verily verily yours

    Kabedoopong Piddo Ddibe’st

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