Skip to main content

BUTTER MY BREAD


Early each dawn 

As water from my well was drawn

This young kid would seldom frown

With a rug twisted into a crown

Coming with her bucket upside down


Butter my bread 

Persistent as though she begged

Her words in a dream while in bed

Adwoa told me of how sad

She lived with her dad.

Mum would have given me more she said

As I helped place the bucket on her head.


Butter and Bread

One just to complement as one is fed

Smear it as long as by taste you're led.

Although sweet scented from the oven

Maybe because it's not stored in heaven

By about a quarter past eleven

A loaf won't be as fresh as it was at seven


So anytime our eels we imagine

Let's not forget the sachet of margarine 

That which changed the taste of a mere sanguine

To now a refined powerful queen

For a king cannot carry himself on a palanquin.


Bread and butter

Seldom if not often,

Alone, no one actually matter

Forget the yarns with which you are woven

Leave them, their craft and ego alone 

They'll have their own sins to atone

Boast not on your unique aroma 

For blood wouldn't function without plasma.


Comments

Post a Comment

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT!!

Popular posts from this blog

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.
Post a Comment
Read more

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...
Post a Comment
Read more

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.
1 comment
Read more