Dhahabu means gold in Swahili.

My poetry and stories are mostly motivational. Others are just thought provoking poems. I am inspired by the proverb

 "A Word Aptly Spoken Is Like Apples Of Gold In Settings Of Silver" 

My audience at the moment is mostly children from ages 2-18 .The message may be the same but delivery is very targeted and adapted accordingly and this is where my edge as a poetry performer comes in.
I am available for school projects,presentation, libraries,workshops and even general party and entertainment.
 

My contact details are

01908 586229
 

07846653237

angela@dhahabu.co.uk

My website is www.dhahabu.co.uk

To grow or to groan?

In the morning, when I stop yawning,

I have the choice, to listen to the voice,

The voice in my mind, the one to guide,

The choice to grow, the choice to groan.

Two voices, two choices.

It’s me! One reckons, It’s me! The other beckons.

Which one shall I choose?

Which one will set me loose?

I must choose today,

One that will make my day.

One’s for winners, one’s for whiners.

To grow or to groan?

I choose to grow, I refuse to groan!

Escape the grind, go on and climb.

To grow is a life changing decision, a great mission.

Every minute of the mission, growth is my reason.

To grow is freedom, the winners’ idiom.

No darkness, No slackness,

Shall separate me from my decision to grow,

Absolutely many minds will I blow.

To grow means, towards dreams.

On to becoming a winner,

Forsaking the whiner.

Winners choose to do right, and then feel good,

Whiners want to feel good before doing right.

To grow is extra-ordinary,

I cannot explain it perfectly.

I choose to do right, with all of my might.

I choose to grow, I refuse to groan.

I choose to win, I refuse to whine.

What about You?

To grow or to groan?

To win or to whine?

To climb or to grind?

To grow or to groan?

That’s the question.

?

Ugly ever after

Walking down the aisle was wow.

They exchanged the vow.

The groom kissed her passionately,

The bride received it perfectly.

As soon as he kissed the bride,

Alas;- a shift in the tide.

Instead of the honeymoon,

Tension loomed.

The groom turned into a hog,

He sat on his bog,

He established his rule,

Like a fiery bull.

He spat the rules,

She’d missed the clues.

She had hoped for an equal cut.

Instead she got the bat.

In place of side by side,

She got shoved aside.

Determined to fight for her dream,

She battled up the stream.

Covering his tracks,

Concealing his cracks.

But this sort of bravery,

Only trapped her into slavery.

Lol, her “happily ever after”,

Had turned into an “ugly ever after”.