Wednesday, 27 June 2012

How's your Booboo Doing?




How’s your booboo doing?
Hope great “like rock and shine?”
Sweet melodies of happiness, pop corn with soda crowns

How’s your booboo smiling?
With dimples one per cheek?
Mild curved-lips basked in sparkling teeth, a chuckle in-between

How’s your booboo feeling?
That forever you’re his own?
No pain or foe, friend sis or bro, must make you break the bow.

So tell me how you’re feeling?
Much sunshine clasped in glory?
Yea with a boo and fine as yours, there is no need to worry.


-By Olaolu Abimbola -June 27, 2012 


Monday, 18 June 2012

GRASS BEAUTIFUL









Grass Beautiful
Green, red, yellow;
On  land or water,
Soft like marshmallows
Grows everywhere, “softeners”

Planted by no one
Watered by sky or sea
Its use, most mammals recall
Scattered abroad for all to see

Some soft, others sharp
Some long, others short
Some thick, others flat
Some blond, others another form

Dies at night, alive with the sun
Taken for granted,
Abused with scorn
Yet spreads it seeds even when unwanted

Sometimes seen as a mess
But with care it remains a beauty to see
With soft colors, your day it could bless
With shine, serenity and peace.

Grass beautiful
Who calls you ugly that can make you?
Grass wonderful
Who cuts you that can for ever break you?

Written by Olaolu Abimbola for Gloria Jacobs on the day she celebrates good life – June 18, 2012

Wednesday, 30 May 2012

The Boy and the Apple Tree









A long time ago, there was a huge apple tree. A little boy loved to come and play around it everyday. He climbed to the tree top, ate the apples, took a nap under the shadow... He loved the tree and the tree loved to play with him. 

Time went by...the little boy had grown up and he no longer played around the tree everyday. One day, the boy came back to the tree and he looked sad."Come and play with me," the tree asked the boy. "I am no longer a kid, I don't play around trees anymore." The boy replied, "I want toys. I need money to buy them." "Sorry, but I don't have money... but you can pick all my apples and sell them. So, you will have money." The boy was so excited. He grabbed all the apples on the tree and left happily.The boy never came back after he picked the apples. The tree was sad. One day, the boy returned and the tree was so excited."Come and play with me" the tree said. "I don't have time to play. I have to work for my family. We need a house for shelter. Can you help me?"" Sorry, but I don't have a house. But you can chop off my branches to build your house." So the boy cut all the branches of the tree and left happily.The tree was glad to see him happy but the boy never came back since then. The tree was again lonely and sad.

One hot summer day,the boy returned and the tree was delighted. "Come and play with me!" the tree said. "I am sad and getting old. I want to go sailing to relax myself.Can you give me a boat?" " Use my trunk to build your boat. You can sail far away and be happy." So the boy cut the tree trunk to make a boat. He went sailing and never showed up for a long time.

Finally, the boy returned after he left for so many years. "Sorry, my boy. But I don't have anything for you anymore. No more apples foryou... "the tree said. "I don't have teeth to bite" the boy replied."No more trunk for you to climb on""I am too old for that now" the boy said. "I really can't give you anything ... the only thing left is my dying roots" the tree said with tears. "I don't need much now, just a place to rest.

I am tired after all years." The boy replied. "Good! Old tree roots is the best place to lean on and rest.Come, Come sit down with me and rest."
The boy sat down and the tree was glad and smiled with tears....... This is a story of everyone.

The tree is our parents.When we were young, we loved to play with Mom and Dad... When we grown up, we left them...... only came to them when we need something or when we are in trouble. No matter what, parents will always be there and give everything they could to make you happy. You may think the boyis cruel to the tree but that's how all of us are treating our parents.

We must try to love and cherish our parents for all the things they did for us. They made all things possible to bring us this far. We should always pray for them.



Written By Annonymous

Thursday, 3 May 2012

The World's Weirdest Poem


If you can pronounce correctly every word in this poem, you will be speaking English better than 90% of the native English speakers in the world.


(This is not my poem!)
Dearest creature in creation,
Study English pronunciation.
I will teach you in my verse
Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse.
I will keep you, Suzy, busy,
Make your head with heat grow dizzy.
Tear in eye, your dress will tear.
So shall I! Oh hear my prayer.
Just compare heart, beard, and heard,
Dies and diet, lord and word,
Sword and sward, retain and Britain.
(Mind the latter, how it’s written.)
Now I surely will not plague you
With such words as plaque and ague.
But be careful how you speak:
Say break and steak, but bleak and streak;
Cloven, oven, how and low,
Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe.
Hear me say, devoid of trickery,
Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore,
Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles,
Exiles, similes, and reviles;
Scholar, vicar, and cigar,
Solar, mica, war and far;
One, anemone, Balmoral,
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel;
Gertrude, German, wind and mind,
Scene, Melpomene, mankind.
Billet does not rhyme with ballet,
Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet.
Blood and flood are not like food,
Nor is mould like should and would.
Viscous, viscount, load and broad,
Toward, to forward, to reward.
And your pronunciation’s OK
When you correctly say croquet,
Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve,
Friend and fiend, alive and live.
Ivy, privy, famous; clamour
And enamour rhyme with hammer.
River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb,
Doll and roll and some and home.
Stranger does not rhyme with anger,
Neither does devour with clangour.
Souls but foul, haunt but aunt,
Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant,
Shoes, goes, does. Now first say finger,
And then singer, ginger, linger,
Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge and gauge,
Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.
Query does not rhyme with very,
Nor does fury sound like bury.
Dost, lost, post and doth, cloth, loth.
Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath.
Though the differences seem little,
We say actual but victual.
Refer does not rhyme with deafer.
Foeffer does, and zephyr, heifer.
Mint, pint, senate and sedate;
Dull, bull, and George ate late.
Scenic, Arabic, Pacific,
Science, conscience, scientific.
Liberty, library, heave and heaven,
Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven.
We say hallowed, but allowed,
People, leopard, towed, but vowed.
Mark the differences, moreover,
Between mover, cover, clover;
Leeches, breeches, wise, precise,
Chalice, but police and lice;
Camel, constable, unstable,
Principle, disciple, label.
Petal, panel, and canal,
Wait, surprise, plait, promise, pal.
Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair,
Senator, spectator, mayor.
Tour, but our and succour, four.
Gas, alas, and Arkansas.
Sea, idea, Korea, area,
Psalm, Maria, but malaria.
Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean.
Doctrine, turpentine, marine.
Compare alien with Italian,
Dandelion and battalion.
Sally with ally, yea, ye,
Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, and key.
Say aver, but ever, fever,
Neither, leisure, skein, deceiver.
Heron, granary, canary.
Crevice and device and aerie.
Face, but preface, not efface.
Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass.
Large, but target, gin, give, verging,
Ought, out, joust and scour, scourging.
Ear, but earn and wear and tear
Do not rhyme with here but ere.
Seven is right, but so is even,
Hyphen, roughen, nephew Stephen,
Monkey, donkey, Turk and jerk,
Ask, grasp, wasp, and cork and work.
Pronunciation (think of Psyche!)
Is a paling stout and spikey?
Won’t it make you lose your wits,
Writing groats and saying grits?
It’s a dark abyss or tunnel:
Strewn with stones, stowed, solace, gunwale,
Islington and Isle of Wight,
Housewife, verdict and indict.
Finally, which rhymes with enough,
Though, through, plough, or dough, or cough?
Hiccough has the sound of cup.
My advice is to give up!!!

Monday, 16 April 2012

Tick Tock goes the hour


Tick tock goes the hour

Another moment just passed in time

Waiting for the longing soul

To reach it momentous heights



Blood blisters and burns from the insanity of the day

Echoes of still waters as the breeze steals by

Everything in its own equilibrium as the moment rows in silence or violence

The surge or bolt for the warmth of exhalation beckons



Let the teething baby remain confused

But so must its mother remain amused

Yea just like the moment where there is shock or surprise

Peace in the bones, joy the most desired prize



The moment can neither be regained nor returned

Yet its feelings hold its captive in a dilemma of the right decisions

Tick tock goes the hour

Another moment just passed in time


Friday, 30 March 2012

Purpose Mingled In Destiny




I tried my best to view the past with the periscope of the future
the thin line between success and determination was obvious.
It would be an assumption to bury this thought in state of thought,
because the future can only be viewed from its application

Just imagine that each day was a passing wave of emptiness;
then tomorrow would be filled with a gapping hollow.
But since each hour of earth’s complete revolution
is not designed to conform to the same series of events and activities,
A repeat event subsequently might only be very similar but not exactly the same.
It is therefore evident that life presents an opportunity
to mould and remould, correct and dissect;
in fact life in itself is the apparatus that controls every action
pre-empted, concluded or being processed per time.

Can we then say that we are the architects of our own tomorrow?
 Then where is the place of purpose in nature’s control of events?
What will happen when nature takes its rage on a purpose?
Should we assume that man must manipulate his course of action
to fit into nature’s coloration of destiny?
Eventually some things will be shaped to fit a perfect design
whilst others will conform to the will-force of nature’s creation.

The solution to this dissonance remains in the power from within;
deep down where the mechanism for every action is constructed,
like the onion within the onion of the onion in an onion bulb.
Each day is nourished with the thought of how yesterday’s events
will affect today’s assignments and how the summary of both
will determine the unknown. That is the place of purpose in man’s destiny
or we should say that it is the effect of destiny on man’s purposeful living. 

Death


In the midst of the tunnel, blackness,
In the shadow of the mist, hollow;
Cracking of the calabash, shock!
Whining of the wolves, sorrow

Sadness! A water coloured in iodine ink.
Paralysis of the feet and cracking of the skin:
Walking through the forest, a battle with the owl,
Walk all day, work all night; sleep knows no peace, peace sees no sleep; Sickness!

Why the disinterest at the sight of a new dawn
Or closing the window blinds against the outside world?
It must be the wizards within, biting the intestine
The heart begins to shrink and liver deforms. Numbness!

Death! An inevitable force and reason for the pain,
A kangaroo in a cockroach bout, punching mercilessly
An unfair mafia, inevitable poison to the soul
Indeed, those alive smell the pain, but those in its web never live to tell the tale. 

Thursday, 1 March 2012

Another New Year



365 days of surprises, yet mingled in its own suspense
52 weeks of gains, big wins, yet not devoid of its own losses
12 months of celebration and jubilation, yet covered in times of sober reflections
1 year of triumph and the same year coloured with its trying examinations

It was a journey through the unknown
A path treaded in faith yet sometimes in fate
I belief that the end would be great, yes great
Eventually, through it all, was a peace like no other known

Today marks the end of the worst life ever
This moment births the beginning of the best life ever
Another new day, new month and new year
March 1st, the beginning of the greatest achievements encountered

Tuesday, 7 February 2012

serenghetti: The Dream About Myemzy

serenghetti: The Dream About Myemzy: "Good morning my world. Its time to live a smile Good morning my day, filled with colours and shine Good morning my love, every bit of...

The Dream About Myemzy





"Good morning my world. Its time to live a smile
Good morning my day, filled with colours and shine
Good morning my love, every bit of me kiss you wild
Good morning my fire, my passion and desire"

I dream of the mountain top today
writing you letters of love whilst resting by the sunflowers
playing with the butterflies and viewing the horizon of life,
curved by the colours of the rainbow

I walk down the path, 
close to where i hear the seagulls cawing
then i go to the ranch and feed the horses
so close is the bend to the rivers
I pluck you lillies and red rosses
yes i see a white one and pluck one too


I seat by the waters to write you one more line or two
of how my life is missing without the voice of you
of how touch makes no sense without the want of you
I write about how life is a hollow when I am not with you

Then the sun begins to set
I perch a little then jump on my bicycle
I ride back up the steeps
whistling and dreaming of what I would see

Just in time a smile welcomes me
clothed in white flowing silk
flowing to the tune of the breeze
holding a lantern and beckoning at me
I giggle thinking of what I would get

"Good evening my love
It being a day of thinking about you
each moment and every thought i wrote just for you
Just to let you know how much you mean to me"


I wake up again and know its being a dream
I reel one in my head but a dream it remains
I know I would sleep again and the dream will continue
I know it will never stop as long as I've never stopped loving you


Dedicated to my dream that i have everyday - By Olaolu Abimbola

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