Category: inspiration

Kiss the back of your hands

Wading through the stalks of grass,
I arrived to the place,
Where I swore to never return.
Meeting you where the horizon blurs,
The sun and I,
Would sit for hours,
Eating oranges, grapes and pomegranates,
Waiting for our time to come.
Let us hash out,
Why one decided to live without the other,
Let me give you the fruit I’ve picked.
Come and sit,
Choosing your delicacies,
Ones we’ve waited a long time to eat.
The sun and I,
Sat until royal blue, satin curtains
Brushed across the sky.
My past self,
I am learning what it means to love now.


The Repercussions of Loving Too Deep

The Repercussions of Loving Too Deep
By Aginetta Mulima.


Writing is my escape.  My first published book ‘Whose to Say: Confessions of Teenagers’ contains a collection of poems I had written from Middle School to my Junior year in high school. It was one of the rare occasions in my life, where I would allow others to pull up a chair to examine who I was on the inside. The poems addressed the  shaky ground from childhood to adolescence in writing.
‘The Repercussions of Loving Too Deep’  however became the turning point, the world and its contents were still shaky but life had changed.
In this memoir (embodying poetry and fiction), love is the topic. It is one where I discuss platonic, romantic and familial love. It welcomes the the self-discovery process on how we love ourselves and the people around us. ‘Repercussions’ notes how much of the past we rely on to keep us strong.

This book contains a manuscript I had kept under wraps out of fear and denial.
However, DD Wright, an editor lended a helping hand to go through the text and encouraged me to share what I had to say. In fact, what I had to say was not only necessary but important for myself.

I encourage you to buy it on Amazon, CreateSpace and Kindle. Also, please share your thoughts/ reviews regarding it. Spread the word also!

It is available for sale here:

Author’s note:
DD Wright is available as an editor and a wonderful resource for writers at @poetry2life on Instagram. Also, her website is Her rates are affordable for budding authors of all backgrounds. She is an engaged teacher and poet located in New York.
Her work: Poetry2Life: Youth. Struggle.Love

Wide teeth comb hair

I use to hate the coils in my hair,
Until they granted me safety,
A comfort crowned on my head.
For a while I frivolously yanked at them,
Yelled at them,
Cursed them from my aunt’s yard,
To my father’s birth home and back.
Now I allow my fingers to embrace them,
Curling through the tips,
Thick with pride.

The exception to the golden rule

We were cross-legged, resting our elbows on our thighs and listening to those we were under. We resided under the tongues of our teachers, mothers,  fathers, aunts, babysitters (related to us or not) and often fidgeted how they spoke of life.
“YOU MUST TREAT PEOPLE HOW YOU WANT TO BE TREATED.” This is a complete sentence and a complete thought. None of us have sought these words as foul play. In our hearts, we swore that is we who will be kind and be mindful of our words, carefully examining their weight. It is we who dance between the sunlight and then escape into the shade.
“You Must Treat People How You Want To Be Treated.”
We pledged this unwaveringly. We carried it with us as we walked on traintracks, under ladders and soft grass trekking to our sense of paradise.  On our tongues our words flicked quickly. We flung such words that were harsh, berated faces and torn down clothes from those we did know and did not know.
What is an opinion? An opinion is whether one prefers ketchup or mustard. An opinion is this diner has great food but the space is cramped. This diner has horrible food but it’s floor plan is spacious. We too tucked in our cheeks such things such as; religion,  poetry, opinions and honesty (to the best of our knowledge). Some days we swallow all of these roughly and dry. Some days we drink water with it for its contents to course down our throats.
“You must treat people the way you want to be treated, except those people. They are less than you are. You must cast your eyes down and turn up your nose. You must say that you know all that is in this world, of it and withdraw your sword to struck down those you do not understand out of ignorance. ”

You must treat people the way you want to be treated.
With blood on our hands, we wore gloves saying we are unaware of the wounds we inflict on others. With our heads drooping between our shoulder blades, we assured our children to grow but only as far as we can see.
With guilt and trial,  we learn again what it means to be kind and treat others how we want to be treated. We want to be free to learn. We aim to improve parts ourselves where we are no longer hidden or acting in pretense. We strive despite struggle. We enclose to all who will listen that all people deserve opportunity for good. We hold in our hand the things we have learned and cast down things that inflict harm on others.
It is an active choice to be unkind and cruel. It is an active choice to be kind and considerate of how we treat other people.

The paper brown bag lunch theory

You cannot shrink yourself
Vacuuming out what fills you
And turning on the suction nuzzle
As if to deplete you.
You shouldn’t wallow
Letting discouragement cloud over you
And allowing it to turn wheels
Going round and round
In your head
That there is something terribly wrong
With you.
We all start somewhere.
We allow the breeze to rush past us
Without pulling it back
As if to say “no, you cannot go there.”
So I say to you
Leap and flow
Forward and grow.
I want you to be
What you want so badly
That it scares you
Tempts you
Living impressions in your dreams
Bursting out from the seams
I beg of you to challenge it
You are fit
For fighting for this much
And that much
Which moves you
To feel compelled to stay true
I love you, I really do
This month to the next
Even if it’s not your best
I do count on darting high in the sky
Where the birds first learn to fall
Then they too fly
I love you I really do
I must come around often
Rather than popping out of the blue

You cannot begin to shrink yourself
Now take that book off the shelf

A rock and a chipped tooth

When the bleakness of what comes
As constant as time
Stares you down,
I’ll call the names
All listing their deep sighs
And longer vowel distinctions
Where there is restlessness,
Your presence persists it is only temporary.
An exchange
A chipped tooth for a chipped tooth without the ache
It is temporary
That what remains consistent
Are our exchanges of no longer worrying what we cannot control
No longer batting an eye at the
To unravel your nerves
a wrench to an apprentices craftsmanship
No longer
Only seeing the bleakness
When the brightness of the light
Blinds before you see really where you are
And where you will be.
I call you by names
No one else knows but you
The name of the little voices
In your head