DUTIFUL or BUTIFUL

Many are they

Formed by clay

Others by sand

Molded with hand.

Touch not, was the command

Why not, we duly demand

Forgetting our ultimate duty

Is upholding alginate beauty.

How sad!

None ever had

Successfully done that.

It isn't easy but,

This fine girl

Has a story to tell.

To avoid a lengthy reading vice,

She poemed this advice.

Dutiful or butiful

The former is a delight

The latter isn't right

Twins are counted as ones

Although born at once,

Their destiny only comes by chance.

Everyone is beautiful,

Very few however, are dutiful.

Digging for gold hidden

Where benignly forbidden

Doesn't take courage

But desire for such voyage

Suitors of truth and falsehood

Far and within the neighborhood

Who in your despair strongly stood

Behind you as pillar that never shook

May be fished out by common hook

Helpers may fade

Lovers may jade

Money may not be there to take

Especially when duty is at stake

But personality

A twin of integrity

Faith of persistence

Dimpled smile of beauty

And a search for purpose and duty

Will grant an achievement

That will forever live as a testament.

Meet Adwoa, A-dwo-a:

Pronounced Ajoa

Monday born and lover of Bible

A name of three syllable

Like a knock on the door of destiny

Blessed with beauty and sense of duty.

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.

MAY DAY, HER DAY

The kitchen was theirs in the days of old, They were the housewives, so I'm told. So shall the real woman wake, Early from bed and for her family bake, The bread of life. Such was the routine of a good wife. What at all is house chores? A mere sweeping and cleaning course, Yet we're expected to praise them aloud, And pamper them like a manner from the cloud. If this mind of societal stereotype, Keep flowing freely like a leaking pipe, In an era of this economic hype. Shall our women be healthy alive, Even if indeed they do survive? A career woman she's now called, Aid to man when his pocket stalled, Beautifully dressed to work, Yet at home we fail to praise her worth. This is poetry for May day, A caution for men to make hay. As she helps financially at home, Assist her to tidy up the dome. Now she's green and stands tall, But green leaves too do fall. After all this grass has dried up, What else will dare to spring up?

BLIND DATE

Pre-Social media world had better means for us to make friends. We needed no data like in modern trends. Friend requests weren't necessary to send. There was an easier way the world did blend. Those times, little money did we spend. Even when you did not have, someone could lend. However, to get a date was not as tiresome. All you needed was life....... Isn't that awesome? She would ask for your commitment after she had given you her all. She would forgive you even after all, But for guilt, your heart wouldn't stop beeping. These days you need courage, money, good looks and fame without any debate. All these just to get someone to date else thou shalt be too late. This particular lady came to me even when I was not ready. Accepting me, knowing that I did not deserve to propose. I tried to hide but Grace found me. In fact, her approach I couldn't oppose and as promised, she has been with me ever since. Forgiving my sin...

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