POT OF LIFE

 A song to my forefathers, like ligua of love by Gbadegesin Akeem Ayodele 

Water in a cooled pot

A pot could never temper

The well water without heat

Water in a porcline jar

The glaze jug could never stain

With the sea water in spraying. 

Antagonized the rest to be

Overzealous in devotion rites

The protagony is in psychic races.

Both day and night are

The scene of actions in pages.

To me the tasks done in the day

Touch up and finish up in dreams.

In a second an action is done

The Sun never rises to sets

The paces are named to note.

Who gave birth to me 

A body in a pace to a body,

It means my name is a note

No one who I was and mine.

Water in a cooler

The source is never tempered. 

Just an old liquid in a new home

The bottles may break away

The water may shrink or vapour

All ways back to the coolest home.

The right ways may be lefted

The wrong roads may be niced

The wind is from all ways.

If you know a little be grateful 

Gratefulness is the remains. 

If you vess a lot in wholeness

The little remains is gratitude. 

Totality is a full of the kalima

Rainfall good to deter at end.

A care of an odium is real

To man a podium to power.

Idioms live in an adage

The caucus of the sage-sagas.

On Sandy ways the marks will

Soon and later be vanished 

But a Forrester evidence. 

Hakimi I  just like your courage

All are two ways forward or backward.

You ply on straight path

In stead of rounding in divorcing. 

Only death can devour your devotion 

The bride needs a call to your prayers.

There are two ways to tow

A gain in a way is lost to other way.

The mother and wife are opposites 

The past of a mother atones the present 

A paste can be tasted

As a story tells a lot of the yesters.

Sweets and cakes are a bride life

But the pains and perses in the past.

A lessons to grooms 

Is broom that all times be with sweepers

For the brides to enjoy his offsprings

The offerings are hard to dash out. 

Humm the hottest sunny temper

No war without heater,

Aches wear on head go and claim

The skull of the bush habiters.

A marriage is a journey of life 

It seems a serious stage of seekers

Like the hunters in the jungles of aliens

The promises are like the oaths.

The journey may plan but the jungle

The ways may be tedious.

The marriage is the tasks of ladies

But the men are the matches starter.

No magic in marriage 

But the management of life.

No miracles  in love

But an acceptability of the nature.

A flowers picker in backyard 

Where varieties of beauties 

He picked a side and a far

He stepped on some of the nature.

                             Keep it dear. Olumide.

See a pot made out of clay

Or you moulded a metal to be mortal 

All are circular in a dot.

The more i see another precious gifts

The more I cherish my destiny. 

A bird in hands worth many in forest

The devil in home holiest to hoteliers 

Just as a contrast of heaven and earth

Death is never a sleeping jams.

If the pot broke 

The relics will be there for traces.

I know love to be a jointer 

To make a desirable model.

Transition as a tradition of the nitters

Bitterness may never a greatness

Just as a love in wholeness. 

It seems every thing processed 

Shows in worshipping in lifetime.

Jahman throws stones to predict a birth

He kneels to gratify invisible names

Unsaned call to the path of the heaven.

He gave all the verses of the holy words

Spoke in tougue of the foreigners, 

Baptized in the beach of black ocean,

The collector of the alms to the hidda. 

The masquerades pray in the market 

Live in veilvalue as a solicitor 

In the court of holiness of his Tommy.

Have a cut to see flowing bloodbleed

A fermented herbs clotted their Zion 

Give room to all things to the path

The holiest way to the nature.

This is a jahman longest hair braiding

Prophecies in the tougue of madman

All seeds are with the wisdom.

Experies will tease experiences 

Ask the cooks of the porages and pills

If the taste and colour water changed 

Esperee the coy.

The alchemy of life in water

A mist of a pure gains a liquor. 

It may taste in both ways of a soul. 

The right seems heightening as light

Well the left-hand lifts as night

Up and down are all ways of to and fro.

It just like a momentary station 

Make a gin to expose to be vapoured

The separatus le apparatus. 

Only the sources has invariant 

All the elements get more parts.

The gene can fissure to gain

As well as to end the species.