POEMS, NEWS, PUN AND FUN

Many are the words of a man But only one actually matters most Many are the ways of happiness Yet no one actually gets them all Pursue happiness and you can't get it at all There is a newfoundland  But the ruler was tied by hand This Kingdom made of fools Who call themselves workers Used by machines as tools Called by the name brokers A journey of thousand miles Must not start with a hop Joy not backed by smiles Is like climbing stairs from the top Pursuit of happiness is waste So long as you change your taste Go ask President Jefferson Why he chose to teach that lesson Had he not in America everything? Why does he encourage nothing? Everyone around seems searching And no one is actually finding Pursue happiness and never feel satisfied Like busy bees, they move about in traffic While I stand alone so terrific Although almost all happy It seems they still need money Search for love and what you get isn't true Just be sure that life doesn't misconstrue Good messages are hard...

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 ow...

"And let not the left, know the affairs of the right hand" There is this good caution for all men But if it is a right thing then, Does the good book have a problem? Why should the kindness of my right arm, Hide his benevolence from the other? Is it for fear of envy or harm? Perhaps a craft of unnecessary bother. Oo long live great Absalom! Do you expect me to say shalom, To baby mother Jerubbal, wife of Gideon? The medianite's underdog warrior Israel's deliverer at age minor Descendant of a family with many wives Men who don't fear to lose their own lives. Hail the King Abimelech! Looking for a beautiful damsel to perch? After making allies with your mother in the west, To deracinate your dad's family on the east? That which has almost been worst, Was feasting on David's crown so tight After chasing him from his throne that night Retiring him from the kingship fight. Were you just a knight? Born of woman to ignite The flame that would burn for life Or by ...

Growing up, As I dreamt of owning a pub Mum would sing a long sad ballad Lacking what his colleagues easily had. Dad still thinks his luck was bad, "I read of something called a cup of tea Only once did I also view the sea But all were pictures, the real I didn't see" Milk and honey Which I can easily get without money First from my dad's cattle Each day at least a full bottle The latter from deep of the forest fringes Kept by bees in their warm fridges All I needed was my focus to groove And an oily hive at night to brood Milk and honey  Frequented by the rich in the city Brought home by mummy or daddy With just few drizzles in my tea Mum, add more my often plea Even without our blue band butter Honey served as cheese and sugar Milk and honey Affordable by all and sundry Depending on who you marry You either eat or go hungry In times of love or strife Derive a formula to stay alive Choose to weave your own beehive Forget your craft, ego and pride Sincerely be apt, go...

Should little drops of water a lone be said to make up the ocean While rivers and rain help fill it to brim? When a man complains of hunger, Should he wait till a cropping season While he expects his wife to feed him? Would anyone sit on hot balls Without protection for his own balls? Hot rolled corn balls, Cooked and sold outside the mall Even though today's profit may stall, Vendor hopes to one day stand tall. And what sayeth the founders of wisdom When we ask for a life so wholesome? Patience is key they claim Followed by no pain no gain! But there's a feminine soul Who stood on one sole Slept late, awoke early Empties her bowl  Just to fill her children's belly Twisting and turning Forgetting she's burning Farming without earning All her efforts keep churning Yet what is her reward? A gloom by her so called steward. A rich man can cheat A woman does so and she is cheap Go to the street Ask the women you meet How they made daily meat Just because of a gentleman's...