Love of a Child Sorrow of a Woman: A Collection of Poetry and Prose

By Anne Musoke

In this particular book, Annes writing leans largely towards explorative ideas and experiences of love. Anne is someone who believes deeply in love, and often says to friends, family and colleagues, that when a person finds love, and is able to give and share it freely, as well as receive it wholly while protecting it and treating it with honour and respect, it is then that one has truly found their purpose in life. This is because love is the driving force behind all we do as humanity.
Anne was fortunate enough to find a true love in her life at a young age, and unfortunately that true love also at some point, turned into true pain, through various incidents within the relationship, Anne was left alone to wonder about the high price that one may pay for love. Over a period of years Anne began to write and keep her feelings and musings, and these all culminate into the collection of poetry in Love of a child, Sorrow of a woman.
After years of working in the mainstream employment field, Anne has now taken residence in a quiet peaceful town, where she spends her time reading and writing, and sharing her life with others in the form of her poetry in the hope that it will bring as much healing, joy, laughter and introspection to the reader as it did the writer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jan 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491886151

Anne Musoke

Anne Musoke is a writer based in Southern Africa. She was born in East Africa, and throughout her life, she has travelled to a number of countries around the continent, partly to widen her experience of life but also to connect and interact with other cultures around the African continent. All her life experiences inspired her to begin writing stories, poetry, prose, and thoughts. Many of her writings are personal, while others are written after observing certain situations or people, then writing from that point of view. Anne’s writing is largely influenced by African culture, from the pain and suffering that individuals, communities, and nations have experienced to the simple joy and intrigue of day to day living. Anne was fortunate enough to find true love in her life at a young age. Unfortunately, that true love also at some point turned into true pain through various incidents within the relationship. Anne was left alone to wonder about the high price that one may pay for love. After years of working in the mainstream employment field, Anne has now taken residence in a quiet, peaceful town, where she spends her time reading and writing and sharing her life with others in the form of her poetry, prose, and stories in the hope that it will bring as much healing, joy, laughter, and introspection to the reader as it did the writer.

Book preview

Contents

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Dedication

Acknowledgements

Preface

Introduction

Dark Woman… Ravished!

Tribute To The African Mother

Beautiful Stranger

God Chases Away My Anxiety

Sunday Afternoon

Empty Spaces

Love Rhythm

Speak

My Precious Child

See Me

My Body Is A Rhythym

When I Found Love

The Day You Left

To Be Yours

Loneliness

The Greatest Gift Of All

When I Ceased To Be A Woman

God Knows My Heart

What Went Wrong

Losing You

Sometimes

Born Free

Thrown Into Lifes Raging Sea

Youth

Betrayed

Am I Less Of An African

An Ode To The Black Man

War

Joy Is Mine

Let Me Live

The Little Village

Bare Naked

All About You

Random Thoughts

Today

A Taxi Ride

Lost Girl

Ignored

Till We Meet Again

I Look At You

You

She Cried

Till Selfishness Did Us Part

Thank You

About The Author

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And it was for reasons such as this that we felt pain, that we shed tears that slowly ran down our innocent young cheeks, only to fall into the palm of love and healing, to be reflected as the moonlight on an evening sea. And it was for this reason, that pain, turned to joy.

Anne Musoke—

Dedication

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I dedicate this book to every person who has ever loved

And still loves

Every person who has ever loved and lost

To every mother

Child, girlfriend and wife.

To the fathers and brothers and sons, may you look into the soul

Of a woman

And see love

Acknowledgements

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Thank you to every person who has ever been a part of my life. It is because of every person I meet, every life experience that I have, that I am able to pour my heart out onto these pages.

Thank you to my family, for your support, your belief in me, for always being ready to listen to each draft and give your honest opinion.

Thanks also to my publishers for giving me the opportunity to share what is closest to me, with the world.

Preface

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(Write your own happy ending)

When I was growing up, I, like most young girls I know, had an ideal of what life would be like, while I patiently waited for love to come and rain it’s blessed hand on me. I was one of the fortunate ones to whom love did come, at a stage when I was ready and I didn’t even have to wait very long, I remember thinking that fairy tales really do come true.

As life would have it, I got my fairy tale, but it did not have a happily ever after written into the script. In the days, months and years that came after my fairy tale ended. I remember feeling hurt and betrayed. I felt so disillusioned about life and love. Concepts such as trust became non-entities to me. When I look back now, I realise what a cruel action betrayal can be, if we allow it. Because once we give betrayal the power, we find ourselves feeling everything that I felt. Sadness, guilt, shame, disappointment, hurt and anger.

With each of these emotions, I would find myself isolating myself more and more, in order to protect myself, and never put myself at risk of feeling that way again. As much as I look back on those dark days with a tinge of sadness at the young girl who went through all of that. I also find myself being deeply grateful for the experience, because it was during those times when I felt emotionally overwhelmed, that I would just pick up a pen and begin to write. Write about how I felt, how I used to feel, what I hoped for and about what I had lost. Each time I would write, I would put my poems aside and feel like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, with each poem or prose I chased out a part of the darkness, and allowed in more light. Everything slowly, gradually progressed from my own emotions, to me being able to look at my surroundings, and begin to see them as if for the first time.

I was able to write about what I observed, what I see other people feeling, from young lovers, to the old man begging