Keep At It Poem by Haruna Garba

A boy with a land snail
A boy with a little rope
Wrapped the shell and swung
Swung and swung and swung
And finally force-stopped the swing
And here was the snail
Forced out forever out of a home

The boy with the shell
The boy with a little wood chip
Chipped on the upper storey
Chipped and chipped and chipped
And finally crumbled the inner roofs
And here was a spiral cone
Intended to be a spin toy

The boy with the shell
Still the boy with a little wood chip
Chipped and continued to chip
Chipped on the next upper storey
Tossed to roll as chipped
But the spinning wasn't perfect at once
It danced drunk's dance and fell

He chipped on and on and on
He tossed to spin as chipped
And the spinning was near good
It span like a spin machine
But only to give him the root of joy
For feeling a little dissatisfied
He chipped more bit by bit

On and on, he chipped
And span on and on
But each time it was one of two
Either fine or faulty
As the spiral layers got demolished

Keep at it, said the old
It is as the world itself would run
And every spin must come to rest