POEMS, NEWS, PUN AND FUN

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...

Once beaten, Twice shy. The child a snake has ever bitten, Fears when a worm says, Hi! Wishing it never passed by, Lifting his feet this time high. Once a gunner, Twice a loser. Only the fool's ball is trodden twice, African proverbs prove not otherwise. Always a fan, When it's time for support. But failure to run, When walking limits your effort, Only makes your strides pun. Yet true heroes, Don't bow to zeroes. They conquer with rubber bullets, Even though perceived harmless. The heart baked in fire, Tells the mind not to retire. The one who doesn't give up, Would always help you get up. If nothing is achieved at all, The F.A cup is a boost after all. With a malleable unbroken heart, Each season is often a new start. If need be for anything perpetual Should you need a partner eternal In times of climatic hot weather I suggest nothing better Than a simple ceiling fan. If patience is a marriage virtue Then what I would always pursue Is to marry an arsenal fan.

The search for true love is as threading a path slowly Experiencing rocks and thorns gently But when it fails, try again secondly This time using a boat actually And if no whale swallows you due finish, I bet you'll catch a big fish. Smiles with cute lips like the base of a funnel, Ready to direct peaceful traffic, Through your heart's tunnel, With care, calm and comic. If you tune to your marriage channel Choose a wife with qualities of Fennel. Get a natural girl Date a pretty pearl One who doesn't easily yell She probably is your night angel Love the one who tells when you smell Who knows what's up As you sleep she stays up When your failed dreams break you up She is the one to help make them up A lady who doesn't make beauty up And would never suggest a break up. An Eve who says Adam taste this Not just someone to roll your testes Be proud of one who nags  When you fail to give her hugs Because when others treat you like rug She is the veterinarian dealing with ...

A snack of whey and milk mixture Popularly heard nowadays with a pose Cherished mostly by those Who fancy that thing called picture Gently distanced from a pinhole camera Benignly bright bristles beneath With gums so dark and neat And a few more flesh underneath Is the home of a smiling teeth Kept daily and oiled with Olive Blessed with love and a life to live Say Cheese, let thy heart at peace Brush your hair and stand at ease. Whenever there's photograph to appease, Turn around, let your worries veer If possible grab a glass of beer. Say cheese if you wish  Roll your tongue like satellite dish For no matter your beauty Pixels always make you pretty Consider the end of the matter, They say, than the beginning. Sometimes disagreed with laughter Yet believers till the end never stop smiling.

Queer is this romantic adage A true serf and peasant accolade Heard even at tender age Not meant for a lass to cascade Nor an idiom for labs to contemplate But for the hunger it tends to abate. Harmattan Pawpaw Coined by environmental determinism With pros and cons of tropical sarcasm Intriguing as a prose Shakespearean Unique in clan like the red Indian Within the dry walls lives the unseen Apocalypse A Kingdom of the true Messian Few followers go in to see the sweet magician And half decide to remain in his trickery abyss. Harmattan Pawpaw The true manna in the harsh pine With a single root it's still fine All are free to claim her thine In drought she calls us home to dine This is the thin tall African fruitful tree  Boosting our Farmer's hunting spree Ever supporting in times of need Cut none of such, our anointed plead Most sweetest when adversely scarcest Liken to lovers who mesmerise their dearest. Oo ye harmattan Pawpaw I believe in the market you are what I saw Just be...

His hands aren't too short to save, Neither his path too crooked to pave  Nor feeble to us the mind he gave Blessed be who believes without erring Foolish indeed who judges just by hearing God loves Africans they alleged Not wondering how that news was heard He hails from us historians have said But the foreigners proclaimed him to us I had read Where is the truth in this message Or it's all at the mercy of a heresy? You have a child with deformity we were told, A son of about thirty minutes old, Being our first time is why we felt cold However, if Fennel and I were then bold This story wouldn't today unfold. With nurses mimicking the unfortunate road he plied, Its Iris appear red, brown, yellow like dyed. Simply, our kid was declared a one eyed As the doctor made retarding sighs While examining his left and right eyes. Amidst fear, panic and fury, And a child in my arms like armoury, We left without hearing the doctor's caution, That sunlight was a blend concoction Loc...

We the fortunate ones Those who weren't sanitized at once At least from biblical pandemics Those anointed theological comics  Black sheep in the day, white wolf at night We were saved anyway, by grace not might. It hasn't been any different from what I sought, That bottle of oil my wife had bought To save our son we gracefully begot. Borges was our patrimonial argot But He asked, "Is that all you've got" Who then is He? The man who baptized we. "He" represents all false prophets, Who studied the holy pamphlets And to amass for their own pockets, Deceive the religious illiterates To unbind any ties with soul mates Hence, sanitizing their thinking cups. Unless you buy my oil, This child will soon be in the soil. This is how we lost hope Our faith in him was so dope Trusted he could help us cope, Bishop Corona was only an expired coke Who had semblance of a good Pope.