Cooking pots
Please stop the rots
When you are on fire
As you get hotter
Your steam must attract through smell
And your pot must be hot to scare
You need not break down
Sending ladles down town
To get many hands to carry you down
Pots, it is normal to be hot
For the fire is your glorified stool
A pot with many complains end up being broken
Or abandoned in a dusty corner
So work well in heat
As you stand on your feet
Or sit on that seat
For that is your destiny
And your ticket to awesomeness
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015
(This poem is a reflection of pregnant women who complain about many things and neglect their jobs and responsibilities using their pregnancies as excuse. There are genuine cases but the intentional ones must seize before we lose face completely)
Mum Cee 