Only when thy spirits dance in bright dreams,
Shall thy great team flourish by living streams!
'Tis our heart's aim to labor with steadfast
Spirit; the goal, we are nearing it.
Firstly, we aim to do earnest teamwork.
Then give great ideas in modern, new birth.
Everyone there needs to share energy.
To keep thriving in mutual synergy.
Only when you're all dreamily alive.
Will your great team 'Walking Live' truly thrive.
Members know they must always remain clear.
And never forget to carry oak gear.
One day or another, they'll be running.
In the meantime, they need to be stunning.
Their bronze eyes, symbolically summarized.
Knowing now what they've always theorized.
That honest kindness,
As well as helpfulness,
Determine their readiness,
To survive on celestial blue-green marbles seamlessly!
We seek to join our hands in earnest toil,
Then breathe great thoughts into this fruitful soil.
That simple truth and grace,
With mutual succour in this place,
Doth provide readiness with goals,
To dwell where azure groves and emerald balls roll,
Walking live!
I’m shattered,I won’t lie,
today has been long.
I’m tired yet awake,
can’t escape the throng.
Day light has ventured
and left while I worked,
The night has arrived now,
still never I shirked.
My eyelids are heavy,
my limbs they are tired,
And still on I toil now,
my time’s not yet expired.
Grateful am I
for the work that I do.
But soon I’ll be bidding
A ‘good night’ to you.
Swift winds,
Soft morning dew.
Smells surround me,
Sudden thoughts of you.
You left so soon,
I did not know what to do.
I close my eyes,
Bitter days gone by.
In your time, did you think of me?
Did you wonder where I could be?
One day comes,
Another day leaves.
You did not cherish all that was good,
You did not love me the way you should.
You passed from this life,
No more longing, no more strife.
Bough breaks, flowers toil.
Feet planted firm, planted firm in the soil.
Days of terror and agony,
nights of darkened ceremony.
All too often an empty soul,
most of it full of taunt.
Cursed from head to toe,
can't dip in water to sow.
Broken in all, too far,
anguished brain all the more.
Love seems forsaken,
heart dwells for sermon.
None unrevealed in moan,
nevertheless caused much pain.
Where to cater
when my shadow craves to somber?
Fainted am I, scattered,
melted and not molded.
I am as constant as the stars.
From your soul I shall never depart.
The fever grips her in large part
in the phase of popular charts.
For you I am forever in debt
about the things you never said.
Issue warnings of winter’s dread.
To see you is my one regret.
She bathes inside the plastic jar,
taking the joke much too far.
It pleases me to see you again.
In the summer the river runs red.
Believe me now for I have lied.
A thousand stars could never hide.
The last of us have been despoiled.
A hundred years we shall ever toil.
Her hair black as the hills of oil,
and thick as the forest of toil.
Adonis, with large palms, works hard,
to win her heart, under armed guard.
Her father keeps her chaste; in stow.
Charms’ locks, curly and blonde as sun.
He’s blinding; she thinks he’s the one.
Slips through the gate; she scans the skies.
She seeks the truth; love is all lies.
Her father knew; wisdom comes slow.
She is fated to always run.
(Too late…her father was the sun.
He kept her safe; wanted the best.)
Escape from hell, youth’s put to rest,
White teardrop gown, six feet below.
Thought, with intelligence? When?
How about the proof?
Setting fire to where and when?
Devil, art aloof?
Fire inspiration, thy pun.
What to do for fun?
Good sense, laddie, and reason!
Fly not close to sun!
Cold fusion, thy harpsichord.
Crystal glass a-flow.
Demon -sultan, fife and sword!
Hell and Heaven, row...
Toil and turmoil, tamarind.
Dappled roes a-fly.
O Reality, how ye thinned!
Grinned the gangrel Sly!
Water of the chasm deep?
Haunts within the sleep.
Void, abyss, around step creep!
Dragons, time to reap!
Vampires, paint thy eyes black!
Do not face the day!
Spend thy life holed not in crack!
Poisonous to pay...
Coals of dark fire, sing in me!
Fling, O fancy-free!
Dynamite and destiny!
Stay awake for she...
sit
stand
lay
relax
think
talk
read
rest
listen
fm
classical
jazz
ideas
concepts
reality
actuality
think
dream
logic
mathematics
matter
energy
being
life
mind
memory
psychology
philosophy
len
POEM
JOY OF MOTHERHOOD
The joy of motherhood, a wondrous thing,
African mothers know the love it brings.
Through pain and struggle, they give birth anew,
Their strength and courage, a pure and true view.
With smiles that shine like the morning sun,
They tenderly care for each little one.
Their hearts, overflowing with boundless love,
A precious gift from the heavens above.
When their children stumble, they pick them up,
Encouraging them to reach for the top.
With wisdom and guidance, they gently lead,
African mothers, providing all they need.
From village to city, they diligently toil,
Their perseverance, a reflection of royalty.
Their beauty and grace, an inspiring sight,
African mothers, shining so bright.
So let us celebrate these queens of the land,
For their endless love and guiding hand.
Their hearts, pure; their souls, strong and true,
African mothers, we give thanks to you.
Written by: Abdulai kpaka Mansaray.
From fields of gold to the city's cold embrace,
He came a farmer, with a weathered face.
Dusty clothes, hands calloused and worn,
Carrying the burden of harvest born.
But steel and glass denied his rightful claim,
A public servant, fuelled by disdain.
"Unfit," they scoffed, for comfort and ride,
Ignoring sweat beneath the sun's harsh tide.
A captured scene, a viral shame,
Sparked outrage, burning in social flame.
"Is this the city, where clothes define worth?
Does dignity vanish with the smell of earth?”
The farmer stood, his spirit unbowed,
Though pride was crushed and his heart clouded.
He carries the weight of unseen scars,
Of judgment swift, and judgment's harsh bars.
A single act, a ripple of pain,
Unveils the cracks where prejudice reigns.
But from the depths, a message takes flight,
For all who struggle, for justice and rights.
Let not his sacrifice be in vain,
Let empathy flow, like summer rain.
May bridges be built, hearts open wide,
Where all find welcome, with dignity as their guide.
"Rage, Rage against the dying of the light.", They say.
To the contrary,
all the Sun wants is
the cessation of the light.
It labors endlessly
bringing light to the world
so that we may flourish.
A thankless job,
with us too consumed by greed
to take a moment to ponder
the Sun's mighty effort.
With no breaks or relief
the Sun shines constantly,
bringing its holy rays
and providing bright days.
"Rage, rage against the dying of the light.", They say.
"Let me go.", pleads the Sun.
cross of blue grey slate
salutes the mountain
a red kite hovers
In my left armpit a big boll
That made me with anger boil…
Then, nurse began to water boil.
“Please, don’t touch it now: let it boil…”
“But not like breakfast tea I boil!”
I’d prayed fluid would spill on the soil
And had begun to like snakes coil
But her next move, I on that soil,
With the planned help of a sir Doyle
Who made steadying me his toil…
Several attempts to escape foil…
Treating a boil could a day spoil;
Two friends in arguments embroil.
If non-stop efforts you take
Success you can make
If you with eager pursue hard
Help comes from the Lord
The more and more you work
God supplies the needed luck
Only by following strict discipline
Glory can be by you surely seen
If your motto is to emerge victorious
Do gladly the task that is laborious
Get pleasure in the performance
Learn and teach great lessons
Let your life be for all an example
Regard living as praying in a Temple
Derive happiness from true toil
This will preserve the holy soil
Teach the World about fine efforts
As that only will fetch real comforts
Hard-work's power, nothing can match
God's attention, hard-work will catch
Just upon honest work if you depend
His merciful hands, God will then lend
With prayer and God, do the impossible
God alone is always kind and reasonable
God can do that which we can't perform
If we rely upon Him, He will stop harm.
With a nod to Macbeth's three weird sisters...
Midst rats, black cats, and screeching bats,
Cackling crones in pointy hats
Add a rag, a bone, a hank of hair
To a bubbling pot in their witches' lair.
Next a drop of your blood to mix into the stew
As they mutter and moan o'er this most loathsome brew.
Harken well as the hags recite ancient verses
That invoke magic spells and malevolent curses.
An elixir for love, another for fame,
If fortune's your goal, play the witches' game.
If malice or spite for another's your bent,
They've special potions for ladies, and some just for gents.
But be wary, my friends, for I'm telling you true,
When the game is played out, and the bill has come due,
Don't try to renege, and don't be a griper,
If you dance to his music, you must pay the piper.
Pay promptly on time, don't default or denounce,
'cause witches are bit**es when checks start to bounce.
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