~Womanhood (potter)~

Womanhood, the
moulded me into a
beautiful woman
from the clay of my
spinning mother’s
broken wings.
She said:
You mother was
born with ability
to fly but men cut
her wings.
They said:
She must think
not out of kitchen
Her fantasy must
be pleasing his man
not being pleased.
And Oh she must
never spread her
ideas but her legs.
As she put flowers
in the pots
She fries striped
potatoes in pans
She hits chords
but her echoes are
broken by walls of
a home she built.
She gave me her
broken wings
told me to carry
them to my
She said:
Add them to your
own wings
When it’s dark for
you and you don’t
know where to go
the scars of my
broken wings will
shine and show you
the way.
As I fly I spread the
echoes of the
freedom she never
had but I should have.
If you don’t like the
shades of my wings
Oh well… I can’t hide
scars unless they heal
And O please,
Don’t tell me how
I should colour them.


https://my.w.tt/Y7TpkD2evM Follow me on WattPad, read and vote. I want to see if I can edit all these poems and make a book one day.

Like Hurricanes

Being a loser, had always scared me
More than having a toast with a ghost
More than a jumbo snake on my neck.
And as I sat among all those blessed
Bodies that manifested achievements
My fear grew deeper than the deepest
that I could taste it between my lips!

I went outside and looked all the floras
Looking as greener as coniferous trees .
Oh, Rwanda, Rwanda, Rwanda! Everybody
loved Rwanda for being clean and green.
For my Musanze spring was a perfect season
It gave me hope that like trees shed their
leaves in autumn and grows back in spring
I’ll be a winner cause I was once a loser!

My life is like Marley without cigarettes
So I lit up the Marlboro and took a puff
Not only I wanted to feel myself though
That’s always part of it. It was just that…
I was shaking and needed a thing to hold!
You knew I loved you, you knew who I was
I was Ange The Loser with anthem “Fail”!

Scars ain’t a thing to hide but to display
with pride, Kintsugi of Japan thought me.
Each scars has its own story and beauty
So I started showing off my scars proudly.
I became a giant loser to you so I became
a loser to myself. That’s the things about
words – sometimes I let them define me!

Hurricanes, Hurricanes, Hurricanes! Who
would’ve thought that moist evaporated
from Pacific Ocean would cause a storm
so destructive like you. I never thought
your words would break me, I never knew
your words were strong until they sunk
in my scars and broke me like Hurricanes!

-Ange Rw

You’re just a memories shop where he goes to remember how much he’s loved

On being informed you’re just an optional for someone who means the world to you that for him you’re just a game not someone to love.

Fearing to let your friends know him because you know you’re just a pirate for a season but still you love him that you can’t think of letting him go.

You’ll be on date with him knowing that he’s thinking about someone else but you know you can’t control his mind, all you’ve do is hope.

He’ll take the phone you’ll listen to those sweet words and those names he calls you and you’ll feel cheap in his eyes but still you love, you hope.

At night you can’t sleep thinking about how he’s fucking loving touching that girl, you know that you’ll never be the girl worth the fight for him.

To him you are just an easy target why bother how you feels, you’ll never be the mother of her kids why bother think of your life, he is selfish.

Next year her dream girl will be announced to be having a wedding in upcoming days and also to be having a children and he’ll call your number.

Take the phone and feel the warmth of his voice again he tells you he needs you; inform yourself this is just a favor from you nothing special.

When you meet him at his apartment, don’t think for just a second that he cleaned the apartment to impress you as far you remember you’re an option.

When he comes to welcome you do not think for just one second that he’s wearing that cologne for you, remember that you’re just a call way for him.

When he holds you do not count how many seconds left for his lips to touch yours recall that when he left you, you were as useless as scrap.

When he tells you that he missed you remind yourself that you’re not special, you’re just a library where he goes to read when he’s bored.

After the visit to his home you’ll go home feeling butterflies in your stomach thinking that maybe your dreams are going to become true for once in life.

In the morning you’ll wakeup feeling like you could go to his apartment and fall in his arms and tell him how you couldn’t sleep thinking about him.

You’ll talk to yourself “let me give him space and make him want me, make him miss me as much as I do” you’ll find yourself waiting forever.

Next week you’ll see his relationship status “In relationship with Chingalinga” he never thought about you like Jason thought about Cheyenne.

You’ll go in your bedrooms and start crying until your eyes become raising and asking yourself does he fall for their look like arranged paintings?

You’ll feel like writing his name everywhere in the middle of nowhere because in Kinyarwanda they say: “USHAKA GUKIRA INDWARA ARAYIRATA”.

Do not blame yourself for loving until it hurts it only means that you’re strong, do not run after him, you can survive and love someone else again.

She must be his favorite museum where he learns his past, present and discovers his future; she must be the girl of his dreams who make him happy.

You are just memories shop where he goes to remember how much he is loved!

Ange Rw

Pay no attention

Pay no attention to their lexis, endure those bullies, live through those insults and survive.

Don’t slay yourself because a bunch of morons are mean to you, Ange hasn’t, and so will you.

Never endure those insults in calm, never be insulted into stillness, never let yourself be a victim.

Again, don’t allow a bunch of morons to give you the description of who you’re, describe yourself.

Ange Rw