GEORGE THE TIRED POET

Dear Muse, See, Yesterday I tried calling you, I tried all your lines And all possible means of communication, But alas, I couldn't reach you. I remember, I sat down and wrote a love Poem, I wrote it for you, I wrote it with a purpose. I wrote, "I will Buy You a Plastic Ring". Not because I was happy, I was scared of losing you. You see, I woke up today with your message, You were greeting me, I swear, I sighed with relief. I knew, I didn't lose you, I had you and you got me. I swear, I cried - I cried when you told me that you are sick, You told me that you are on medication, I sighed with relief, I thought that would be better, And I wished you a quicker recovery. Dear Muse, Hope you are well, Forgive me if your name is what I forgot to spell, But I will use a quill To avoid ink spill, I will write a poem with it And still wish you a quicker recovery. © George The Tired Poet 🇺🇬  August 10th, 2025. #PoeticSundays.

📸 Zebraville Studios  ( My Love Diaries ) In the shadows where we used laugh,   I roam through echoes, caught in a spell.   Your smile, once the light that lit up my way,   Now drifts like a shadow, fading away. The moments we shared, like whisperers in the dark,   Have wilted to silence, lost like a bird in the park.   Your touch was a warmth I believed would endure,   But now it’s a chill that I cannot ignore. I still hear your laughter in the  stillness of night,   A hauntingly sweet tune, now a sorrowful predicament.   Each word we exchanged, now a bittersweet ache,   A reminder of love that we couldn't forget. You painted my world in divine hues,   But those colors have dimmed, I reach for the stars, but they slip through my hands,   As dreams turn to dust. So here’s to the girl who shattered my trust,   A lesson of love, that hurts. ...

  📷 istock Photos. (Why Men Cry) I cried for love, For the women who broke my heart Because I failed to keep them happy.  I cried for my mother, For giving me birth, I cried for my aunt,  For showing me life, A life you live when you lose a loved one. Aunt Rest In Eternal Freedom.  I cried for Poets, Poets who can't write about change. I cried for Slam poets, Poets who write poems to create change. I cried for other poets, Poets who write poems that choke them. I cried for my Future Wife, Because she will birth me children,  Children who will suffer paying debts they didn't eat their money. I cried for my unborn children,  Because their mother  Will birth them without a warning of how hard Uganda is. I cried for Ugandans, Ugandans in Uganda and Those in Abu Dhabi,  China, Russia and South Africa.  I cried for Ugandans, Ugandans in debt, Ugandans who are living but dead, Dead because they can't afford a meal. I cried for students,...

📷 Meya Ukasha (Why Men Cry) To be a man, Kila mtu anadhani hauumi, When they see you cry, They think it is a lie- Because you are a man. You must not show that you are hurt, Because Wanaume hawajui maumivu ni nini,  They have never known how labour pain is- For that is what real pain is. To be a man, You are an abuser when you beat a woman, When she beats you- she's emancipating. She's defending herself from the 'beasts' men are. Woman can seduce you and it is normal,  When you seduce a woman, You are a rapist- A man with no dignity. In fact you are just a shameless brat with no brains.  To be a man, You cry or you don't cry, You are still a liar, you lie. You lie even when you are about to die, To die from the pain you can't comply. To be a man, You have to feel shame for what happened to you,  You have to be a criminal when you are a victim, You will be charged for victimizing a woman who made you victim. That's why I am here talking to men, W...

📷 Cool Simon Photography.  Model : George The Tired Poet  (My Liberation Verses). Rest In Peace Papa, I am sorry I messed up,  But I have come here  To tell you a story. Yesterday, a whiteman came my way. He said he was from Norway. He asked me dozens of Stupid Questions, Because he found me sad, He said, "Why is every Ugandan wearing a long face?". I told him, "there is nothing to smile about. Come and take a walk with me". Stupid as he was, he came and I took him everywhere.  I took him to the streets, showed him the 'street kids' As the world calls them. I asked him, "Is there any thing to smile about?". He said, No. I took him to the hospital, Showed him every unit, I again asked him, "Is there any thing to smile about?" He said, "No". I took him around the roads, And asked him, "Is there anything to smile about?" The fool said No. Daddy,  I am sorry.  I took him home. I showed him Mom and my little si...

📷 Annie Spratt (Why Men Cry) Where did truth Melt to, Where did true love go, Where did compassion migrate  to, Where did real feelings get asylum from. I remember the those days when we had true love. Mother would sit us together, Make us sing Church hymns, Practice drama and poetry.  The days, long before, I had fooled my thoughts. I neglected what Mama said to me. She spoke in poetry. Mama said, "My son, true love can't be found unless you are bound". The consonants in her verses told it right- And I was wrong. Who Melted the truth? Who told them, not to love one alone. Because I see many big men cry. Mama said, truth lived in the 80's . Now, my brothers crying,  Others are dying- For truth has been Melt.  Where did truth Melt to, Where did true love go, Where did compassion migrate  to, Where did real feelings get asylum from. © George William Ochago.  @George The Tired Poet.  2023. #poeticsundays.

📷 George Shots. Model: George The Tired Poet. (Love Diaries) Yesterday, I sat close to my mother's sick bed, She was breathing like a dying horse. Her groans would make you throw away your heart, She would make you think she's dying already. Yesterday, as I sat close to my mother's sick bed, I felt death around my veins, Then I heard her whisper, "My son, are you there?". Yesterday, as I sat close to my mother's sick bed, She whispered to me, She said, I need true and pure love. Mama said, I shouldn't play with people's daughters, It is not right. She said, I should fall for when I am ready. For my heart is so delicate to be hurt. Yesterday, as I sat close to my mother's sick bed, Mama said, I shouldn't rush,   Because I will crush. She said, bruises in the heart can't heal, Once patched- it will never. Mama said, Mummy's boy like me need a true and a faithful woman.  Yesterday, I sat close to my mother's sick bed, She ...

📷 Prisma a la Vista ( Rhapsody Of Love) You always spoke ill of me, The ‘title’ was always about breaking up, You spoke of it in ‘syntax’, And that made me understand the ‘subject’. You hissed creating strange ‘onomatopoeia’, The ‘repetition’ of your hisses, Created ‘a symbol’ of hatred And you used the right ‘diction’ to hurt me. You made me realize that hatred was the ‘subject matter’, Your statements created ‘rhythm’ and ‘rhyme’ Around my medulla oblongata And I didn't notice any ‘irony’. You made me love your ‘style’ Because you were too ‘audible’, It forced me to fetch negative ‘feelings’ And ‘mood’ because of your language. You became ‘rhetorical’ Because you knew everything. You made a fool of me And took my everything. You made me wish worse for you- Because you always created ‘stanzas’ of tears Down my cheeks whenever I grieved, I always failed to service my thoughts. Your rhythmic voice of ‘criticism’- Always blaming me, Made me think I am an ‘opportunist’- A...

📷 Courtesy Photo.  In the land of Karamoja, where winds whisper tales, A region of strength, where resilience prevails. Its people, warriors of pride and grace, Longing for justice in their sacred space. Karamojong, their spirit unyielding, Amidst the hardships, their hearts keep beating. For too long, their cries have been unheard, It's time to unite and spread the word. Karamoja, a land of struggle and strife, Where hunger pierces the fabric of life. Yet amidst despair, hope lingers on, From dusk till dawn, till a brighter morn. Let us gather the fragments of their dreams, Stitch them together like rivers and streams, To nourish their souls with compassion's embrace, And restore the dignity of Karamojong race. Together, let's shout from the mountaintops high, "Karamoja Lives Matter!" in the endless sky. Let love and justice be our guiding light, To uplift Karamoja, to make things right. For the people of Karamoja, let's make a stand, Extend a lo...