Talking to myself through poetry
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Love finds a way like water
The right recipe matters
From a pot to make a dish
Meant to sustain and nourish.
Why is it that when man desire
To possess the burning fire,
He rushes where Angels fail to thread
For love, he goes off the deep end.
Until she fall under his belt,
He always seem to fidget
Most times his liver falters
And the right words fail to utter.
At the other side of the net,
Even with bee in her bonnet
The lady would be a cold fish
And dark horse, in face of her wish.
Soon you will be off an infant cloth And may encounter storms, dirt and rust Some achievements may seem a mirage Unachievable until success emerge…
Let the pages fly and spread their wings Let my spilled inks make millions to think It is plain and simple, hope it sinks “All…
Simple or made into an Elf What is music to a born deaf? Same question goes without tongues Pot or Chef, who spoilt the stock?…
It is no news that the pigs are fat As a result of the embezzlements Taking politics as a personal farm Eating from the labors…
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