The harmless storm

It hasn't been any different from what I sought,

That bottle of oil my wife had bought

To save our son we gracefully begot.

Borges was our patrimonial argot

But "He" asked, "Is that all you've got"

Who then is He?

The man who baptized we.

"He" represents all false prophets,

Who studied the holy pamphlets

And to amass for their own pockets,

Deceive the religious illiterates

To unbind any ties with soul mates

Hence, sanitizing their thinking cups.

This is how we lost hope,

Our faith in him was so dope

Trusting he could help us cope,

But Rev Father Corona was an expired coke

Who had semblance of a good Pope.

You have a child with deformity we were told,

A son of about thirty minutes old,

Being our first time is why we felt cold

However, if Fennel and I were then bold

This story wouldn't today unfold.

With nurses mimicking the unfortunate road he plied,

Its Iris appear red, brown, yellow like dyed.

Simply, our kid was declared a one-eyed

As the doctor made retarding sighs

While examining his left and right eyes.

Amidst fear, panic and fury,

And a child in my arms like armoury,

We left without hearing the doctor's caution,

That sunlight was a blend concoction

Locally used in such a simple situation.

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...

TRUSTED STRANGERS

You relax with comfort, Knowing how safe it is, To be on an airplane. You chill out in a ship, Comfortably sailing on the ocean, Although you can’t swim. You join the train, And feel its meandering bends, Thinking it’s safer than road. You join a vehicle to work, Comfortable at the back seat, Trusting that you’ll arrive early. In all these circumstances, Taking no chances, You trusted total strangers. And you were very sure of your safety. The pilot you don’t know, The captain of the ship neither, Nor the train and car driver. Yet you put your life in their hands. So why strive at life, While you know God Almighty. The giver and taker, The securer of your future. So relax, and trust God, Just be yourself, Yearn less and don’t stress. Be patient and submit yourself to HIM.

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