THE MOTOR|| A poem written by Okewole Femi-Emeritus Femho

THE MOTOR
Small it is
A sweet bitter portion of life,
It directs the whole body
And an able being makes.

It dances up down when painting
And beautifies the oral spittle,
Many a part it has,
Ruling the only palace of the body.

A savior when drive rightly
But a Jeremiah when controlled
And drove unsuitably;
It’s a force that put forth talk.

Death and life reside in it,
Beings are justified by the motor,
It’s like a burning furnace
When it rains and ruins.

Mighty men are it’s handiwork,
It fellowship the fools,
Shatters the future when it’s worsen
And restores glory when strong.

It liberate nations,
And put in shackles the careless,
The motor, A great great tea her of creature,
The power of the able-bodied.

©Okewole Femi