YOUR TIME WILL NEVER COME

Ooo man, ye have no time.

Even what you have, isn't yours.

Yes, you can set an alarm

Then in time, it chimes.

Yet your time will never come.

Even if it does,

It's just for a week.

Once a day at least,

Till another sun via the east.

That's the fact of life.

It surely shall be

But certainly not yours,

God's time always stands.

Monitor a clock as you wish.

And even as you read this,

Tweak the watch on your wrist,

To make it work as and when.

Thy hard work shall pay

So long as you make hay

But until God gives you His,

Your time will never come.

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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.

Poem for a good wife’s birthday

TRENDING! Happy birthday to you my soul mate. My only best friend till date If I have a chance for a new love mate, You’ll still be the one I’ll date. Thank you for coming into my life Thank you for being my wife Thank you for not giving me strife But rather being my hive God bless you for the peace in our marriage God bless your womb and her fruit You’ve lived with me in truth And since I have not the voice, I’ll sing for you with flute. HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY BELOVED

BeHIND CLOSEd DOor

She asked we meet at her house, And I was like, Aarh! For she wore mini skirt and blouse, So I had to leave the door ajar. Thus how I rather fell to her char. Oo son of Abel Fearn't thee the daughter of Jezebel? For all men, your dad was the last To be soiled with her lust. So that in Ghana, aside malaria All medication has an ability Far stronger than Viagra Supposed to enhance sexuality. She gave me a dose For the cordial path we paved And we introduced it to those Who in Christ, were already saved. Now they buy it more than us Taking it in as much as We have had in our lifetime, Until their untimely lifeline. But there's a spirit in man Able to nurture a holy generation With pure heart not woven in yarn In this era of erotic dispensation.

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