Kenny pen

Dear Life, Please be fair to me. I have toiled the bittersweet part of you. A hundred and ninety score weeks have I walked you,  please, grant me progress. From cradle, your harshness makes me burst eardrums; Earthlings wouldn't have appreciated my coming Without shattering their eardrums. Though, You sealed my tongue until 3 decade months. You dealt with me so much so that nothing but tears Can get me all I want. As an adolescent, my tears became obnoxious Earthlings panic no more when I tear down my voice box They exchange my plead with increased hardship Here I was confused about how to tell of my suffering Mr Therapy seems to be the way. But Mama and papa only want to heed to their purse. Many a time I succumbed to crumbs. Yet at last, youth came, Ah! My first stance was to backdate. But You reluctantly stood your ground and pressed on me. You gave me the best of you. Is this not enough? have you become so cruel that small pleasure is so a hard gift to unle...

                      I remember festivity when we cloud dawn with a bright smile, Back in the days when our treasured item is the new pair of undergarments mama unwrapped. We jump into dawn with undies smiling brightly With our cheap sun shades shining and smiling uncontrollably,  Kissing the sun ray with intense passion. Our legs stocked in our newly oversized shoes Making sure we tread the floor with the sole of our shoes rebounding the ground with the resounding echoes of Ko! Ko!! ka!!!. Our filial body exhumes aural of contagious happiness  Making sure we walk at least a crooked mile. Flaunting everything we are glad in. Those days were the only days' Mothers never engaged in the bathing battle. Each kid obediently stood erect, shivering with happiness waiting to be washed clean. Even seasonal brushing meet its contracted date. With teeth pined together obediently with  periodic s neak attacks of the ton...

 Blooming is great, The sight where all and sundry Does nothing but gaze. Blooming is magnificent, It's a period where the scent in the sky feels nothing but great. Blooming is splendid; A season when we see hope Playing evidently and a surety. Blooming is wonderful, When all prime steadily kick start And all preparation for harvest engulfs our thought. Blooming days and blooming years Blooming times and blooming seasons Blooming ticks and blooming acceleration I hope blooming days will last forever A period where every bud reflects its intentions. When blooming days are over, not much can be changed. We just need do nothing but gaze as maturity stand boldly to prove her worth. Photo source:Pexel . More from this pen.

When boys are out fishing; with  hooked, lines and sickles steady.  C ertain chefs dug their long spoons into the pool of Foreign and local dishes, other dug their scoop sinker into the barn of beef, and assorted proteins. Particles of Red rose coal stagged under the warmer. Bugging soups bubbles all bust out to show their readiness to fill up dry throats.   Harmonious melody lingering in the air, with reverbs of bass lines as thick as mortal and pestle clash. In a couple of minutes obnoxious and anxious sounds of "Serve here, leave there, come here" Would be the sounds escaping the lips of both Ushers and Event planner. These imperious orders would be sounds that echo in our ears. We stood hanged and erect waiting. Waiting for the signal to set our filial minds in an array. Steady trays balance on the erected crooked arms. And all chefs with their gallant pose. Stood erect! All waiting........ "Now is the time!" came the imperious words of the event planner....