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Developer, Designer,  Poet

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Solar FREAKIN' Roadways!

Written by Dennis Riungu

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

My Love For You

My Love for you is great,
It is an emotion well locked in the pads of your desires,
It’s like a layer of satisfaction to all your emotional cravings,
A delicacy to your soul,
Just like a heifer mowing on the morning grass,
Buttered with the saintly sap of a warm morning’s dew
The satisfaction therein,

My love for you

(c) Denpal Poetry 2013

Written by Dennis Riungu

Monday, June 11, 2012

Forsaken Love II :: At The Cal-De-Sac

Every Penguin gets to sing a song
A male penguin accompanies a tap, hop and a ding dong
It’s called a “heart-song”
A female penguin will respond to the happy feet in a strong
Back-up and will meld in the female version of the dong
The resulting is a delightful orchestra in romantic void of a throng

Just like a sparrow I’ve got one song in my repertoire
This I will sing it to you time and times again as a warbler
Recite it to your whiskers not just as a wistful whisper
But tend it in your heart’s secret with the cry of a distant weep
Lick your soul with my tears of solemn feel that go deep
Eloquently I will bleed for your love to spur
Love will retake the path of a soul reaper
I’m way shy of a starling and will not mimic a caw and chirp
Like a wren I will define my call note then peep
A kill-dear would take a broken foot to pursue
But I, I will compose a lilt to my call note for you
And love, you will respond to my happy feet when your love for me is due

Inasmuch as I shake my head with the vigor of an African Grey
Seemingly short-changed and rejected I yearn for the ray
That moment I grind my beak in content
Grab a breath, bobbing my tail waiting for the green feeling to entirely torment
Fan and flip it, fluff my feathers and be un-looking
Swaying in the hang of a slack hope of least attention, whilst I, affection seeking

Happy feet I will tap and mark our territory
I will chirp for you and as your ranchboy will purr your glory
So if I be unable to reach for my head and comb my crest
Cockatiel, for you I will make a begging chirp of attendance, just a look, and I shall not rest
Let off the rub of good stone a rough perch
If I go un-noticed and lacking your love
Just don’t hold back and release my humble song-bird
For it is only for a season, a season is not a lifetime I promise
Hold back my regurgitate, for when it is season, it is only you that I have
For in my lifetime, a humming bird I will hang upside down and chirp on
Lie on my back, and sleep

Prequel of Forsaken Love II: Forsaken Love I

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Prima Ballerina

It’s the home of chance;
The hall of dance
The audience adverse
So styles had to advance
I was the king of dance
I felled opponents, not a farce
Then my last worthy antagonist!
She, the prima ballerina

She stalked across
Towards the shared podium
(It felt like a garrote)
Along the matted isle
Made me sanctimonious
Kong went her heels kong
Mounted her heels on stage
Selector spinned the rhymes in age
And like a one-legged grasshopper
She dropped and danced down from her cleavage!

My worthy antagonist
The prima ballerina
With a thigh so high
Smooth like the mother-of-pearl
Her stance, well-defined and similar
To the galore of sexy Scandinavia
Her lips of wine red
Plump in their moderate succulence
That seemed to resemble
A cougar in its ambience
That has just felled its prey!

Her strings of hair, black and clearly never blonde
Streamed backwards laid against
Her smooth-scaled mermaid skin
Yes, scaled with ointments of Michaelmass daisy
That scented love intuits on me
Wait! Love is too hallucinating: Oh yeah! It was lust, damn it!

She turned her head
Her eyes towards me
Interweaved in a mesh of disarray
And those eyes, two diamond balls
Amid them a lime-like conk
Bridging this fragile cleavage
Of a face so beautiful
Just like the Martians!

Her gleam smile
Cutting a well-defined assortment
Along a spick vicinity
Of a cumulo-white dentine
That only ate of what the French tutored-
Deep kisses…and more deep kisses!!

She then glared at me
Smiled at my now shaken manhood
T’was now my chance to jig
And a chance to impress
Shun away depress
Only thing;
I had been hypnotized
By who...my worthy antagonist
The prima ballerina 

Monday, July 4, 2011


This section about poetry is one of my quests to implore it's capabilities to bring emotions into being and other various functions of poems.If you indeed love, understand and value poetry as such, please feel free to share it with me and other poetry lovers.

It doesn't take you to be a poet lauriet to join in!

What is Poetry?
While,poetry is a intiguing art that is usually not understood by everyone.But for those who discover the sweetnes of it's intrigues, they are better at understanding it and never look back.

While, my defination for a poem is this-"A composition of particular high ordered words in a special order to bring out a certain emotion in a person"
But maybe my defination is not something for everyone to go by.Hear is some rhyming definations from those who have halso been into the wonderful art of poetry:

“Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of emotions: it takes it’s origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.”
By Wordsmith.

“Poetry is more philosophical and of higher value than history”
By Aristotle.

“Poetry is something more than good sense, but it must be good sense at all events; just like a palace is more than a house, but it must be a house at least.”
By Coleridge.

“Even when poetry has a meaning, as it it usually has, it may be inadvisable to draw it out…perfect understanding will sometimes extinguish pleasure.”
By Housman

Written by Dennis Riungu

Monday, September 7, 2009

Forsaken Love :((

I turn off all my senses,
So as to listen to the heavy mourning of my heart,
The loud wails of my soul,
To feel of the eager force in my eye sockets,
As my tear cavity rumbles for a burst.

My feet shake!
They lack the strength they had when it was you and I, together!
My hands tremble, as the warmth of your palms is not there anymore,
For when I used to hold them, grasp on them, scribble on them,
My world was at peace, complete as a set!

Now, my one and only true love,
You have left me to crumble,
Left me at the mercy of emotion manipulators,
At the cross-roads again, to choose another path I am completely unsure of
With another that mine heart is yet to fall victim of!

Who will give me love like you did?
Who will listen to my simple and stupid ideas yet say “that is so great hunny”
Who will hug me and squeeze out all my worldly cares and fears,
You made me feel special, lucky, blessed
Now I am weak and torn apart-by a heavy feeling-
That I MISS you sweetheart and that I love you,
Forsaken love, which has since lost its dearest companion in you!

Once again I am left, abandoned in the cul-de-sac to tarmac
Abandoned in the uncertainty of such your love and commitment,
The meekness that was in you, the glitter that sparkled your beautiful face,
And most of all, the honesty you possessed.

Oh I wonder who the universe has groomed for you hence
For them to enjoy your satisfying and defeating love,
While now I know, it ought to have been mine
 I taught you to love, but all for another !
Whom I am not sure will see the royalty in you,
 And take care of you just like a little toddler is pampered,
Just like I did, my one only and true love!

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Archive Libraries

Archive Libraries

Lately I rummaged through the famous infamous lane of ancient archives
Revisited the revered antiques where reading, writing thrives
Land of our fellow perceivers, children of archaic scribes
And upon that lane I interposed three text hives

They first one was the adager’s scrolls
Folded deficient of quagmire wrinkles but patterned in oratorical rolls
Jotted with fine lampblack ink like clay of may weather
In mono corsiva calligraphy done with the seagull’s back-wing

The second archrivals I eyed were the saint’s scriptures
Wrinkled in troughs of trepidations and crests of salvation
But pregnant with wisdom more than kings that held scepters
Lined with mein serif calligraphy- the allure of quotation

The third was the ductile stone tablet caricatured by crack
Hard and brittle in stature, pale in luster of lime chalk
Sculptured in adorned patterns of the maestro mason’s wedge
The Tahoma calligraphy adding sparkle to the scribes of Stone Age

It is from these archival libraries took we then knowledge for the learner’s ‘ext book’
Fantasy to jot down the child’s ‘story book
Adventure to lay down text for the scholar’s ‘novel book’
But nay in a zillion millennia did we decipher from them the alien cadence for fanatical facebook

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Adager's Prowess

Adager’s Prowess
The old and wise adagers once said
They said that old is gold
My clear conscience rebutting in blunt cacophony hails
-When Taco stores it stales 
It’s tinge of incessant aroma decays
The snout of the weaver-nightingale pays
And the wooed prowess of the once wise ten dismays

The old and wise adagers twice said
They said that time lost is never recovered
In refute I stamp as ever opposed
-Why is it then, if I revisited my vineyard in Land’s-end
The big eye of the sky, there, will still persist unfrowned
Whilst from whence I Rome, it retired early ago
And trees whispering undiscreetly bent to let the winds escort the day home

The old and wise adagers thrice said-
Those who speaketh knoweth naught; the wise uphold silent stand
-Then why is it that I comprehend
Luther, Solomon, Po-Chui, Lao-Tzu, Shakespeare, Wordsmith…
Composed thousand word masterpieces and placed a wreath
Ought’nt they have been covert and stealth?
Adager’s prowess my foot!

Although the old and wise adagers multiple-wise said
Ramsey Ullman, calm (not like a mouse) also said:
“To know a little less,
Understand a little more’
It seems to me is our greatest gift.”
Anonymous also had a rhyme to fit:
“Good intelligence is power, and so is dynamite.” Who’s right?

Monday, August 3, 2009

The Carbonator.

The Carbonator

He bends low
To pick the mitumba shoes below
Mindless of the fumes that blow
Massively from his well
Like bats from hell
From the carbonator

You’d be put into thought
Or just had to assume that
He’d bats in the belfry
Cynicism you had to try
Nevertheless, his lungs made their cry
I tend to think their tear cavity run dry
Leaving all under the rhythm of dirges
All because of the carbonator!

He stands back up to the tallness of the roof
Smuggles in another puff
Of tar, carbon dioxide
And tracts had to divide
To let across
The cargo that bears loss
Into he carbonator!

The chimneys of the factory
Themselves told the story
Through them came out all sorts
Of fumes, of dust, of cirrhosis’s
To mention but a few the demise
Into the expansive atmosphere
This would lead into despair
Oh! The carbonator!

With the new shoe pair
He sat onto one case of the stair
Giving through his eyes a visionless glare
The ozone had been damaged
Its cavity as dry and departed
By the fumes of life
Replaced by cirrhosis, cancer and the like
Oh! The carbonator!

His dirge was sung unrhythmically
You have a chance, really!
to avoid cutting off the rhythm to your dirge
Through the puff insurge
Just like the carbonator