Rosey Sembatya

 

Rosey Sembatya loves Poetry. I feel that something about poetry is very sincere and deeper than any other genre of writing. She is currently offering consultancy services on education related issues to parents through Malaika Educare Ltd.

Some of her poetry has been published in two poetry anthologies (Poetry Poster Project I and II) put together by Femrite and targeting young Adults. Her short story Nine lives has been published in Femrite’s latest publication Summoning the Rains.

Rosey has been a participant on Femrite Lancaster writing mentorship program with John Corless as her mentor. She was also a resident at the 3rd Femrite Regional Writing Residence in Kampala. She draws her inspiration from the past, present and the future…everything basically. As one who feels that performance poetry is the future of poetry, Rosey feels her poetry is evolving from the abstract, elitist nature to a more involving, audience relational nature.

Apart from writing poems, she is doing research for her first novel that she continues to piece.

She loves dogs too.

 

Creative Work from the Sticking to my Footsteps anthology

 

Afrigo

When music had nerve endings

pulses chuckled and throbbed upon touch

like a leash taming the mind

the heart dripping

soul juice

 

When music chewed gum

mint calm in its wake

picked me up and took me places

riding on pleasure

pain

 

When music was honey

no peacock feather stuck in its hair

an effortless serenade

a glide

curled the toes

rose to the hairs

 

When music was an aroma

Mother’s kitchen

boiled rice

A percussion of drums

distant

 

Take me back.

 

 

You remind me

Of 4 am

dark with a purr of light

the milk teeth of the morning

nibbling.

 

Of March

refolding Febuary,

the sun a mild bright

unleaving

a drizzle

two thick drops

green blossom.

 

Mombasa

naked

summoning  crabs

the vast ocean a big eye

alert

 

Control

a fist too tight

knuckles moan

 

 

This to nothing

Coups on intellect smolder years of toil

rendering void  a, b, c  that started off the journey

like the Maji to Christ

This to nothing

turning mortars and gowns to shreds of cloth

yawning, begrudging

shit

humanity questions its plight

mourns the discordance