Skip to main content

TRUST or LOVE





‎ Which is easy to do?
‎ Love me emotionally,
‎ Or trust me willy nilly?
‎ For such, are we doyen.

‎ Maybe none at all,
‎ Will fit this discourse.
‎ Neither the brain this small,
‎ Or a large heart for this course.

‎ Let me trust your infractions,
‎ Let thy words know no simile.
‎ When nature closes my eyes,
‎ Still abide with me till the mile.

‎ Show me thy love!
‎ Make it seem from above.
‎ Treat me with passion,
‎ As if your skin feels my traction.

‎A twin allies,
‎Whose foes are lies.
‎Like the tongue and teeth,
‎Then mouth has caused them to tame.

‎ That together in one den of crust,
‎ They must work hand-in-hand.
‎ So treat me as you may demand.
‎For without love, where is trust?


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

HOT BALLS

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...

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.

WHEN I GROW UP

Now I don’t know what to think, but some day it will all be in ink. I look without seeing, am I even a human being. To me, everything exists without meaning. My language is a cry, but I only calm myself with a smile. Today I take milk, but tomorrow I will break bones. Now am wrapped in silk, but soon I will wear clothes. Hmm! They leave me in pampers, am now among toddlers. Both the young and old handle me. Love and admiration are all I can see. Sometimes how hurtful it can be, especially when bathed by the geriatric. I have no option than to accept their plea. In fact a little smile does the trick. I am now a boy but frankly, am coy. I can’t even cook but I can eat yolk. Where is all the tenderness, where is all the care? How come all this harshness, why all these snare? My ideas are not significant, as tiny as an ant. All my vocals create fun, commonly ignored with laughter. I hate this pan; maybe, I should sound louder. But my cry is an unnoticed plea When shall I be free, I wish I ...