Skip to main content

Footslog

Life is beautifully designed
Crafted with handsome hands
It goes on no matter what happens.

Interestingly,
We laugh at ourselves to the core
With tears of Joy
We tease each other too
Correcting the minor mistakes we'd made
Knowing that there's no easy way out

“Simple”
You inspire me to know how wealthy that means
And I don't want to see defeat
Because things got complicated and tough
But you also believe that conditions aren't permanent
That the situations only get better with hard work
A walk in the Livingstone Park

 













Prodigy,
Having confidence with complements
I see that in your eye all the time
I see how tender your heart can be
You’re tenacious with a touch of softness

Grace
I share in your all
You radiate wisdom in its glory
I'm a catalyst for progress
Thus, believing in every step of the way
I'll be here 
You'll be here too

So let's keep marching on in life
Labels:
Location: Lusaka, Zambia

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Tattered Dreams

They played the part yet plot the pact. Instead of repair, they lead in the shadow to rip the earth; Our gods are not to blame but them. They have betrayed our ancestors, Posterity can wait no longer. Arriving from yonder, they have come to judge our every move, To the letter in every decision backing our move. Dear Mother, my honour is stained and tattered! To where has my father departed? It seems our collective dream has shattered, The pieces pierced our feet and bruised our skin. My siblings' wail but the elders make merry. Our village is lurking around wealth, But our daily bread is locked up in the vault. We dread treading the path to revolt, And gathering momentum outgrow our ill-health. This is not the future we dreamed of. Our dreams, precious like the mineral that has taken our place now. The elders paraded the corners of my street with pseudo promises. We’d believed for a moment but our springs quickly dried up, And they silently masterminded the raid to rip our homes...
6 comments
Read more

Being the Victor

Facilitating a training session on  "How to benefit from Digital media as students and the need to promote PEACE as young people" My life is victory personified. My dad believes in winning against all odds. My mum always has her hopes up high and ready to accommodate the aroma of victory from the heavens. My sisters know that tomorrow is never promised until you win today. It means that each of us has our very own battles to win daily. We consolidate our little victories. Thus, the family defines what it means to live while knowing that grace is sufficient for us.  Till we succeed, we shall continue to persist through perseverance with our mustard faith.  We are not superhumans; we are the family and together we achieve a lot. In our peculiarities, we strive to communion in this journey while supporting each other. Reaffirming that in our weakest moments, we have ourselves. Yes, we are the family. Life, as it unfolds, has many facets to it. I am planning to tell my D...
2 comments
Read more

In 2020...

We defied the odds. We make history in the present. 'Normal' is a thing of the past. Together means miles apart. Not all theories are not potent. The context is valuable content. Our survival remains constant. The reality means your breath intake is consistent. The wall is the law. A winning trump card is forbidden. And home shielded us from the omen. We understood that all things are possible. Although apart, we were more unified. Unquenchable flames were ignited in the youths. Productivity in our beds became the best option. We lived even when death looked us right in the eyes. The old generation came to appreciate the "demonic" technology. We realised profiteering was not the way of only the rich. The selfish attitudes of the yesterday are the survival tactics of today. The youth exuberance came with a new vibe. We held rallies and turned tables. We got beaten, burned, broken and barred. Then we were left with our dreams to wear on our sleeves. To all the fallen so...
Post a Comment
Read more