Gold to Hold (2015)

1 She is the beauty of beauties,

A queen,

A princess,

A sight to behold,

She’s Gold to hold,


2,  Her dark Chocolate skin,

Her white milky teeth,

Punctuated with an affluent gap,

Her round and beautiful face,

Her beautiful brown eyes,

Indeed a sight to behold,

Even in cold,

Gold to hold


3,   Her red tender lips,

And her corn- shaped hips,

Not to forget her sharp pointed breasts,


Greatly endowed downs stairs,

Alas! A perfect creation of God,

From the cradle of mankind,

A beauty to be hold,

Gold to hold







VICTORIA KIMANIThere is no denying that Victoria Kimani somehow resembles American rapper Nicki Minaj especially when she decides to be crazy with her fashion sense just like the „Anaconda‟ rapper. Her fashion speaks louder as she commands attention everywhere she goes.
The Maybe Line Brand Ambassador was at the Louvre Museum in Paris, France when she attracted the attention of a French couple who took great interest in her. They pulled her up to take a picture with their baby daughter. Kimani flew to Paris, France for a small vacation as she describes that it has always been her dream to tour the amazing „City of love.‟
She only learnt later that the couple mistook her for Nicki Minaj. Through her social media, Kimani narrated how she was approached by the couple who handed her their baby and took a photo of her with the baby as she posed in front of the Louvre Pyramid.
“So here I was doing touristy things in Paris and this couple came up to me and literally handed me their baby then told me to take a picture with her. I later found out they thought I was Nicki Minaj. While I do appreciate the ultra-sweet compliment but I don‟t look like the queen, not even a little bit,” She wrote.
According to Kimani, the couple approached her with so much excitement and emotion. She was handed their daughter as the mother took a couple of pictures together. On seeing the kind of approach they had made, out of goodwill she did not decline the offer. Kimani says she was really fluttered by their actions and that made her stay in Paris so exciting.
She went ahead and said that Nicki is a well-known artist globally and that the baby would grow up and realize that she is not the Rapper if at all the parents do not realize it early enough.
“One day this child will grow up and realize that I am in fact not Nicki but a pop star from Africa. Anyway we look cute in our matching hats,” She added.
However, this is not the first time Kimani has been mistaken for another star. In 2015, she was approached by a gang of friends in Lagos, Nigeria who had mistaken her for the popular Ghana
actress Monicah Mkumwo Ahmed who is well-known for appearing in a couple of movies internationally. This occurred when she was on tour for her Album THIS IS AFROBEATS.
She is widely known in East Africa as she has set remarkable fashion trends everywhere and also for her hyped up concerts. Most know her as a very determined musician and entrepreneur who puts her work forward and her sense of self drive is motivating especially to the young youth. We cannot be surprised why Kimani was confused for another celebrity because of her popular concerts which are usually full of her supporters from all over Africa and also her choreographed dance routines which are very unique. She has posted a couple of concerts on her Instagram account where she has over 500,000 followers.
Kimani has previously talked about leaving a better name for herself to the point that she no longer has to introduce herself. She claims artists such as Nicki inspire her and also enable her to be the innovative person she is today. She aspires to work other international artists such as Spice, The Jamaican Dancehall Queen among others.
Apart from her music, Kimani is also well-known for how well she has travelled. Her social media gallery says it all and it‟s clear that the 33-year-old is definitely living her best life. She has a great record of the places she has visited and it is yet to be confirmed that she is permanently living in Lagos, Nigeria.

The Village Boy

With muscles and height I adored,

His teeth I adored,

White as snow I dare say,

His heart as pure as a baby’s

A warrior amongst the warriors,

For his people he knew to defend

Strange how he gazed

Like the future he knew for sure,

He, my dear friend was the village boy


Hatred and Anger he knew not,

A smile he always had,

For today he could say

Was the only surety he had

My dear friend I tell you,

His voice was music to my heart,

Many adored his steps

For he moved with grace,

And he knew no race


With sadness he laid to rest

The fallen heroes he called them,

Love he preached for friends and foes,

I tell you, he walked in humility,

Strangely he walked in sovereignty,

How I wish I would be near him,

His hand in mine he would lay

The village boy my friend,

Was sweeping the village

And cleaning the households,

Of its dust and filth


Do you understand my friend?

That which I try to say,

Of whom I speak

Yes the village boy

He who brought love peace and joy,

But he who the village showed pain

Oh! How I wonder so

For I looked at his eyes

When they matched him off the streets,

To the village square,

Oh! How I wonder so


When I looked at his bruised back,

When he was lashed,

Before the women and children,

Stop I wanted to say,

But fear,

Oh my dear friend,


I tell you my friend,

For this was the village boy,

The one I adored

The one I cared for,

Do you understand my friend,

Of whom I speak of

Yes my friend,

He was the village boy


 By: Beatrice A. Ouma

















The Dance

Often waits for the dark,

For the spark,

Many times at dawn,

When the desire is born,

Begins with the beat,

Beat by beat but not in street,

Louder it gets,

Slowly it wets,

Together they dance,

Pleasure in chance,


And steeper,

Up and down,

For the white and brown,


With no measure,

Then it is done,

In minutes gone,




Sweet Adora (2016)

My heart beats for you,

Sweet Adore,

Every beat,

Spells thy name,

Sweet sweet Adora,

But will you ever know?

As every time I try to say,

I get tongue tied,

My heart beats louder,

My pores open up,

And I can’t just say it,

For fear of the unknown,


I see you in my dreams,

Amongst the cream,

Holding my hand

And confessing your love,

But will you ever see it

In my gentle eyes

As I look at you with admiration,

Will you ever see it in my eyes?

As they give me away,

 I can’t say it,

For the fear of the unknown


I laugh at the thought of you,

Sweet Adore,

Keep your memories close,

Sweet sweet Adora,

But will you ever feel it,

The touch of my love,

When am close to you,

Will you ever feel,

The air of love around us,

Sweet Adora,

For I may not bring myself to tell you,

For fear of the unknown


I yearn for you,

Sweet Adora,

From my Crucked Rib

In deep thoughts today,

I hear we were molded from clay,

But was she made from my crucked rib?

And put in my crib?


She’s not a straight script,

If you catch my drift

With the asides,

And the decides


She’s as strong as a stallion,

But she’s also a chameleon,

Today she’s cold, tomorrow warm,

And at times she breeds the storm


She’s not red or white but pink,

She glows at the sight of my ink,

Her “yes” used to be a “No,”

But there is even more!


She’s a natural artist,

The makeup would say the least,

And with the hill’s heels

She lives as she feels



Crucked I say,

Yet without her I can’t stay,

She’s the oil,

And together we toil,


But again I ask and wonder,

This question I ponder,

Was the woman made from a crucked rib?

And put in my crib?


I AM TOLD (2019)

I am told,

That black is no longer beauty,

That in those days of Instagram and snap chat,

A lighter shed carried the day,

And the answer is cosmetics,

Those that will make her lighter,

Enough to get the likes and the approval of men,

And it doesn’t matter

if at the end she will look like a burn victim

Or a stripped zebra,

Just as long as she is beautiful


I am told,

In words so bold,

That the ones with the big behinds are the beautiful ones,

In those days of socialites

When a woman’s body was good business

And the answers to cosmetics,

Injections to sometimes pump them up,

It doesn’t matter 

Those things may not be propositional,

Or that sometimes there are health risks

As long as they are beautiful


I am told,

That is all about Red lips,

Make up even before they wake up,

In those days of selfies

For them to colour their eye lids purple,

And lashes green,

As long as they conform to the standards of the day

And it doesn’t matter

Whether at the end she looks more like a scare craw,

As long as she is beautiful


I am told

That it’s about big boobs,

In those days of Facebook,

When a woman’s beauty was about her chest

And so she will go for surgery

So as to please the men

To hell with the risks and side effects

And it never matters that she is playing the hand of God

As long as she is beautiful