Always...Hungry
Sometimes...Sad
Always...Angry
Sometimes...Glad
Sometimes...Bawdy
Always...Bandy
Sometimes...Naughty
Always...Randy
Yom HaShoah
(Holocaust Remembrance Day)
Sirens will ring in Israel
Small moment in time
To remember six million slaughtered
Has the world forgotten?
Is our memory so short?
Is history not taught?
The evil of antisemitism
Is raising its ugly head
Even in America
A wee little biscuit softly implored
a gruff, hard-hearted and tuberous yam,
"oh, why, my dear friend, must you be so hard?"
and the yam replied, "I am what I am!"
"In my kitchen, I will not have this chat",
I said, as, into the oven they went.
"Now I'm soft", said yam, an hour after that.
"But I'm hard", I heard from the oven vent,
"...if, my dear yam, I might beg your pardon,
while this heat made you warm up and get soft,
I had to wait, and burned up to harden",
said the biscuit as the black smoke did waft.
Poem idea? Don't make my mistake,
or you will burn your house down while you bake.
New Yam
Death brings life
New, tender and green
Earth brown, immaculate white
The priest heralds her coming
The town crier drums it
The farmer dances to the market
It's time to celebrate
Let loose the masquerades
Celestial visitors from yonder
Let the melody of the odó
Echo the birth of the new yam
Like the birth of a newborn
The drums are rolled out
The market is flooded
With news of its coming
The homestead salivates
The streets jubilate
Vegetables will bleed today
The fattened cock will crow no more
The slumber of the pestle is over
For what is in the yam that the knife doesn't know
The noise of pounding
Will keep the neighbours awake
Iyán funfun báláwú is on the menu today
From: Echoes from the Savannah © Makinde Adebayo Adeniyi, 2024
A face worse than Traffic Jam!
Charles badly wants to melt Sam:
The Man to before Men slam
And him cause to board a tram…
Charles had been by choice A Clam
But he sure hits like A Bam!
And can hands down beat Sam;
With or without eating Yam
With not glucose his guts cram…
“One thing to tell you Champ Sam:
For me you slaughter a ram
Or I shall your river dam;
The World show you weigh less gram!”
Nothing like Diabetes!
Roger has been quite at ease:
A Devoted Yam Planter,
Who stops to drink Sweet Fanta,
To Raw Energy increase
And Fine Harvest not decrease…
Fairy Tale Diabetes!
Roger’s breaths not in wheezes.
He had, too, been on Quanta;
A Sure Double Strength Granter;
You won’t Helping Hands tell “Please!”
How would it get in: Disease?
Roger too is a Rice Planter,
Who work suspends for Granta:
A drink for Clearest Vision,
Against all Mind Division
That would breed Plain Confusion;
Male Child gives after Fusion
Low Sperm Count Quick Revision…
Fanta has results produced,
Granta more intake induced;
Nothing like Diabetes!
A Paul, too, has been at ease!
Root a little sweet,
How precious are the violet,
Appetite is great.
Her booty is like yam porridge
She's gonna blow that mind away
I know you can't wait
She will show you how to work
without an interview
She's bad into the cage
You wanna go there?
Ugh! I won't advice that but
The moment is on
The Mic is set
Go into the woods
Deep there
You'll find her.
She’ll make you forget your name.
It's okay babe
I know!
You have 10 thorns
Still you've got to run so fast like a lion
into the jungle fever.
She's alone, along the craziest
crafted woods.
Wishing that someone who
loves her for what she is would visit.
Go get her,
Kill those cats
Rats!
Bees!!
Frogs!!!
Bears!!!!
Beasts!!!!!
Go see your baby..
Yam the ram is mean and a glutton
With his head he is always button
One day Yam Rammed Ewe
Ewe went in a stew
And since then they call Ewe mutton!
SHOUT OUT TO THE YAM EATERS
I listened to their melody
Which for me is a malady
Still I listen to their rhapsody
Which is nothing but fallacy
They tell us they make law
But they're thieves to the core
They fight one another so raw
Even their suits they tore
I thought they stood for the poor
But they are crooks on the floor
Pulling up chairs to fight war
Supremacy is spilling blood
When it starts, the lazy ones crawl
The oil will soon stop
And the agitation will drop
Now that the price is fall
Won't we go back to the crop
Before all the budget flop
They've stolen the money
Now we wake up to a dry morning
Leaving us to mourning
When we recall the sweet old memory.
May the cankerworms of this country
Are eating us to our grave in a hurry.
( FM CONCEPTUAL)
Yes sir, nice to see your blog entry. Hope all is well...Regards, tom