Seven days are in a week
Five are boisterous
I love the serenity of weekends
Less traffic, low noise,
Reduced fumes, more funs
As trees clap in rhymes
The cool morning breeze
Ushers in fascinating aroma
Couples, families, friends
Neighbours and many others
Sports along the streets
To keep shape for weekdays
My weekend afford me to party
Visit parks and friends,
Relax and shop with my lovely family
Or enjoy and revel with bossom friends
Sometimes, its a period of deep reflections
To get close to my creator
I don’t like my weekend being wasted
Because it’s a divine gift
– Babatunde Aremu
When the clouds shake their hyssops, and the rain
Like holy water falls upon the plain,
‘Tis sweet to gaze upon the springing grain
And see your harvest born.
And sweet the little breeze of melody
The blackbord puffs upon teh budding tree,
While the wild poppy lights upon the lea
And blazes ‘mid the corn.
The skylark soars the freshening shower to hail,
And the meek daisy holds aloft her pail.
And Spring all radiant by the wayside pale
Sets up her rock and reel.
See how she weaves her mantle fold on fold,
Hemming the woods and carpeting the wold.
Her warp is of the green, her woof the gold,
The spinning world her wheel.
– Francis Ledwidge
‘It is a foolish thing,’ said I,
‘To bear with such, and pass it by;
Yet so I do, I know not why!’
And at each clash I would surmise
That if I had acted otherwise
I might have saved me many sighs.
But now the only happiness
In looking back that I possess —
Whose lack would leave me comfortless —
Is to remember I refrained
From masteries I might have gained,
And for my tolerance was disdained;
– Thomas Hardy