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

DREAMSCAPE

An experience of a walking life; Or thoughts of the day in motion at night, Flowing peacefully in spirit like a kite. Awaiting an Estimated Time of Arrival, In your heart’s own built terminal. You woke up from the thunderous snore, Just to realize you were in a slumber. But you vividly remember; The realities you did encounter, And how beautiful it was that you saw. So you shared your story in the morning, While you were still yawning. Yes you shared; With people of like-mindedness. And boom! you are a hit; A one time wander, Now a lifetime wonder, With whom everyone wants to sit, But your dreams, don’t let them plunder. You are now a champion, So go ahead my companion. Go ahead with that plan; Store as many as you can, If it can’t be frozen, just get it canned.

not MAN enough

Should I say breasted Swollen headed Rifty shouldered Or broad chested With the feet apart, fingers attached Reminiscing simulations of expected fallacies We still cannot promise That which may only be a wish That by hook or crook We live not to miss One may hide his fear Because people like him are rare Or when salvation is near But when a determined face Is hidden behind a disposable mask, Then this is my take, "Lives are at stake For job security sake" Albeit: Positive mood and posture Creates a gigantean stature That holds onto a diminishing dream And licks it like honey ice cream Therefore I am no moron In this metaphorical oxymoron; Of a naked dressed officer Wasting kiwi on black leather. But as we stand at our faith's peak It will take less than a week To prove we were never weak Courtesy only kept us meek But time on our side, shall speak And men shall find what they seek.

YOUR own PEN

Something mostly divine, Sometimes, it's ours to define. Unlike the plant called Vine, Destiny seldom has pine. And it is our duty to prune and refine. From the feet till we see the spine. It may be a good omen, To which we shout Amen. It might have a fault to mend or dirt to filter, Which might make us think that God did falter. But we can write our own destiny. Yes, we always do. Remember that road you used to the mill, The particular person you talked to, Has it not been your own will? When you wanted to learn, Even when in prayer you did yearn, You took that training seriously, And you passed out successfully, That was your own destiny. That was your pen on paper. When you write, no one can alter. I am the secretary of the God you don't know. Now wait while I print yours out to show. Written down by you as white as snow.

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