HARMATTAN PAWPAW

Queer is this romantic adage

A true serf and peasant accolade

Heard even at tender age

Not meant for a lass to cascade

Nor an idiom for labs to contemplate

But for the hunger it tends to abate.

Harmattan Pawpaw

Coined by environmental determinism

With pros and cons of tropical sarcasm

Intriguing as a prose Shakespearean

Unique in clan like the red Indian

Within the dry walls lives the unseen Apocalypse

A Kingdom of the true Messian

Few followers go in to see the sweet magician

And half decide to remain in his trickery abyss.

Harmattan Pawpaw

The true manna in the harsh pine

With a single root it's still fine

All are free to claim her thine

In drought she calls us home to dine

This is the thin tall African fruitful tree

Boosting our Farmer's hunting spree

Ever supporting in times of need

Cut none of such, our anointed plead

Most sweetest when adversely scarcest

Liken to lovers who mesmerise their dearest.

Oo ye harmattan Pawpaw

I believe in the market you are what I saw

Just because the clouds are raining

Doesn't mean your season isn't yet trending

You will soon have your moment

And be ready to live at least once as a revered monument

Comments

RFFS PRAYER

Anytime I'm called for duty... Wherever deployment takes me, Pervert from my path, any mutiny... But give me the strength to be; The rescuer, the protector and the fire fighter. Whenever I'm gone for stand by... Lord, grant me a listening watch. All incursions, hazards and risks, May I with my crew identify... Where unavoidable, enable us to mitigate.. Be it in the terminal, tarmac or boarding gate.. Should there ever be an emergency, Wherever fire may rage.. Should there be any shout, No matter the skin or age.. Help me put the fire out, And my neighbor, help me save. And if by your will... Any blood may spill... Leading to any fatality, Protect my wife and kids, And preserve the rest of my crew.

FALLEN ANGELS

Most often than not, Heroes do fade with their names unsung. But the shadows of their past, And the candles we light all night, Can at least serve as lyrics, To compose for their departed souls, A new song for us to be consoled. Patriots they’re now called, As dirty politics has now stalled. For once at most, We all agree to a toast, In solemnity and not at the bar, That this life is by far, An expedition with a divine illusion. Yes indeed they were; Heroes as we now call them. Not because it sounds like an anthem, But for the national emblem, They did responsibly revere. Was it the natural order? Is it because someone failed to bother? Was it their time? Are the questions we continue to mime. But will the answer save us a dime, As a nation in her own prime? Let the eight angels fly high, As families make a thirst quenching sigh, And create for them a legacy in perpetuity. For if we seek another opportunity, And let these men go forgotten, There shall be no more fallen angles from...

Aliko Dangote

A rolling stone gathers no moss, And still water gathers mildew. So if you are to be the boss, You must awake before the dew. Words of wisdom but of pun, Spewing out like rays of the sun. And I listened well with intent, As Dangote lectured me via the internet. Seldom do we get them to share Wisdom with this kind of flair. ’’So if you entered the bedroom of Bill Gate, Within a minute and one thing for you to take, What will I see with you while exiting his gate’’ This was the rich man’s question, When I asked him how he made his wealth. Will you take a picture or money for the future? Will you pick his diary or a book of fortune? To be sincere, I couldn’t answer. So help me, my dear reader. ’’If you take one thing from a rich man, You can’t be like him. Unless he hands over to you exactly what made him rich’’ he continued. So be patient, Watch and learn. Go, try it out and return. Ask for guidance and yearn. But when time is due, don’t flaunt it on the internet.

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