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)

By amoafowaa

Just a simple Ghanaian trying to find the best in our society. I may be fun, I may be interesting, I may be funny, I may even be foolish or intelligent, but it is all based on the mood in which you find yourself. I believe our minds make us who we are. Know that, pain, no matter its 'unbearability', is transient. Unburden or delight yourself for a while in my writings please. And all corrections, advice and opinions are welcome. Know that you are the king, queen or royal on this blog. :)

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