I understand San Francisco through Poem-stories!

Yes, I come from another culture and another country very much different from America…….but so much the same in many ways!! I come from Uganda. It is in a very large continent called Africa.

Puzzling, misleading, not easy to follow! Right???

Isn’t it the feeling that first meets one who travels to unfamiliar grounds? Have you ever walked around your neighbourhood? Have you noticed those signs saying “This neighborhood is under surveillance?” Or something to that effect? What first comes to your mind? Imagine you are as civil and good-natured as they come. This is enough to stop you in your tracks,then you turn back and go to your house. There goes your exploration or excursion!!!

So, you go back and think of how the ancients were able to move about unencumbered. One way was to perfect the art of communication, story-telling, poetry, music, dance, drama and knowledge of places. They were the itinerant performers!!! They roamed continents and were able to talk of distant lands and cultures. I happen to come from such kind of persons. I am told my great, great, great (Phew!!) fore parents so many sun rises and sun sets back were itinerant artisans and experts in survival. I only happened to learn about herbal medicines and story telling from one of grannies.

I am using the skill of composing and writing poem-stories to meet other people in a formal way. That way,I have got to visit places I would not have gone to I think!!

This is the first poem I wrote for San Francisco:

Three birds I met in San Francisco
Have your lunch,
in the gardens,
by the UN Plaza,
San Francisco,
hold on to your snack,
guard it,
for not far away,
is a meeting,
a planning meeting,
to ambush you,
the feathered conveners,
are so happy,
the prospect of food,
the leader,
with a red bill,
it was so easy,
away goes your snack,
at the moment,
when it is sweeter,
it becomes,
the Laughing Gull’s meal,
food, wrapping and plastic,
gobbled down,
so fast,
you of the keeled tail,
your iridescence,
a purple sheen,
so striking,
belies your inelegance,
by your noisy,
I am glad,
I met you Grackle,
with your black crown,
you must be Harris’s Sparrow,
the famed one,
well sung,
well cared for
‘eye is on the Sparrow.’

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