@poet¶article writer¶blogger
Duncan Kiplimo has been a poet since the age of 15 under the pseudonym,Uncle D.Born and raised in Nandi county as a second born son to Elijah Maiyo’s bloodline.He is a typical Kalenjin poet and English Romantic poet, artist and mystic and an author of ‘From The African Left Hand Ink’ and contributed to Jael Migiro’s ‘Shackles of Pain’.He has also written poems like, ‘The storm in the sea of Galilee ‘ ‘The beautiful pastor’ and ‘The true lie’.
When he is not reading or writing,he is probably playing his piano or watching The Originals if not thinking of how best to make himself best.His meeting with new people who support all his efforts to grow and develop his skills not only in art but also in his hobbies gives him much zeal.
“The goal I am currently striving for is to change the world by first changing my own self.Bad experiences have come and go in my life but that is what made me what I am today; grateful,full of love,desire,and hoping to have a quality life.With all I have now,I desire to make myself a bridge to inspiration for even younger sons and daughters.”

My Latest Posts

    Teach Me How to Learn I have a dark mask I like to try on, Oh, the blackness that hides deep inside of me And the childhood innocence of putting a finger in the fire to become saint. Detest, loath, trying to hide a hostile glare and a contorted face Will I ever see my boy again, I doubt? Every morning has broken with solemn tread, but still, I must keep the kind face. Must we all suffer for the choices we make? Or is it just my time to have a taste of my own medicine? Must we alwaysContinue reading “TEACH ME”
  • There’s life in poetry
    THE GOOD, GOOD OLD TIMESIt was nice,whilst it lasted,The love I never dare confess,yet harder to repressThe times I sat at the balcony,And you came into me with a wondrous kiss,I named it,’the kiss of life!’For with the touch of your lips,I felt more and more alive againYour chest pressing,softly against mine,Your beautiful wine gourds chubby on my face,It was nice,really breathtaking,when I saw your yesDazzling bright,and sapphire,I remember the good good ol’ times When we sat to watch the sunset,o’er the grey cloudI found everything extremely overnice!I remember the good good old times,When I thought you japed about myContinue reading “THE GOOD OLD TIMES”
    It is your voice,and novice,that I hate,my loveWhen you up your hand cutting me mid-speechJust to hear you blabber, and your agitationAre you ever calm, or even a listener?I doubt!All my ears can hear,or eyes can see,till all be done Till you sit to listen,But ah! That time I might not live to see.I never cease to wonder when last I heard your silenceYet you don’t sleep in silence,but soundlySnoring and I recall my thought to kill you And probably lay you in the parquet flooring.My love,when last did you sit to hear me finish my word,Before you quickly interruptContinue reading “PENDO MY LOVE”
    Dear old reader,yet another time to remind you;Under the drab and sad faces you saw at EDITH’S burial-I’m afraid,half were rejoicing my tying knots with AZRIEL the daughter of ANTOINE The enchanted hour,The magic bower,Where, crowned with roses,Love love discloses. Dear reader,before you turn the next page,You probably forgot that my mortal Islam RAHMA ;He knelt on his right knee,and she said YES!While a lifeless life lay supine in a coffin right ahead.Whilst her lifelessness slowly belted six feet under, ELLEN wanted a wedding ground We all sat in congratulation of her, trampling over the fresh grave.Once and again theContinue reading “FOUR WEDDINGS AT A FUNERAL”
  • WHY
    WHY NOT ME I wish I could ever awaken you-How wish I,that my name could trigger your adrenaline,But who am I,if not a lesser being;I mean,who even thinks me human,but just a living being.How I really wish,I’d be good enough;But I am not,regret I. My love for you has grown in disguise,I’ve lived to hope a next day will give more,I’d put none above you,but often ask I myself,What is it worth?I love your firm possession,Your fiery,unflawed futurity,You are a misery I should venture;Daughter of a noble father. But canst thou tell me why,Why should the lovely rose I sentContinue reading “WHY”
    When I sat among the richAt first,I felt lucky,and rich as wellI felt,like I could woo all the dresses for my sideBut when I sat with them in their posh cars,I felt sadWhen I sat among the rich,I felt pitiable and hapless I had friends who had wealth and confidenceWomen went and came at their call,Whilst I’m only a poet Fighting a bitter fightFate will not grant me,even leisure with which to write When I sat among the rich,They dressed in wealthy and classy robes and suitsThe joys of wooing,the could not know,For money is the refuge for their lassesMyContinue reading “THE PRICE OF RICHES”
    SO THAT I DON’T LOVE THEM MUCH THIS TIMEWas love even for me?I think not;For the many times I’ve loved,I’ve also parted,Loving that which was never really going to stay,I’ve been taught to die alive,I need not love anymore.If by loving not I do myself a favor,Then it be,But man is man,And I am man,I want death again.I want to feel alive,to be touchedI quite know the sensation that touchment* comes withSo,someone’s daughter,don’t let me die again,come touch me.Tell my sister to tell her friend’s sister to touch me,Or my heart,for that matter-Or tell my mother to tell her friendContinue reading “SO THAT I DO NOT LOVE MUCH AGAIN”
    She turns me on, the beautiful pastorShe makes wish it becomes Sunday everydayHow she tiptoes with her stilletos through the pulpitI wish to sneak into the vestry and see her dress up.I bet you have met not such an enticing holy at church. When she opened a verse that day,A verse that left me dazed and bemusedHer utterness said “Songs of Solomom 3 vs 4”I had no bible but googled it out to seeIt left me a smile and mouth agape. She always preached love, love for Christ,But I took it all literal and said, love for a pastor.I lookedContinue reading “THE BEAUTIFUL PASTOR”
    TODAY IS MINETODAY is mine. Tomorrow may not come. Next week, next year, I may not live to see;This hour I have. It is enough for meTo make by smiles, or mar by being glum.And so I strive to live this one day well,To tread the path of right as best I may,To speak the kind words that I have to say;Tomorrow I may be an empty shell. Then I cling to another thought of saga,I can’t live well but I must perseive to make it my best lifetime story,Today’s echoes speaks to me,Yet you blame a rose that has prickedContinue reading “TODAY AND TOMORROW”