The Plain Pen's Blog ✒️

A poem in praise of menstruation Two ovaries once told 'emselves, Let's make a self, Soon they were set, A messenger was sent, To be joined in legal union, With a visitor. The ballroom was set, The visitor expected, For a supposed set out, To start right away, In the hallway. The visitor anticipated in a while, Never arrived, But the messenger took to the way, Hoping for the best. Alas! The visitor never was present, For a matrimony, He was the be-all and end-all. The ovaries waxed wode, A great fury it was, The aftermath of which, Was the annihilation, Of the precious ballroom. The ball room, The feminine uterus. The ovaries' messenger, The matured ovum. The truant visitor, The expected sperm. The annihilation, The FLOW! ThePlainPen

      Being a medical student is faced with diverse academic challenges and responsibilities, most of which are tackled with the level of stuff in the cerebrum; the Intelligence Quotient and the company of friends, the crux of which are the superomedials .       According to the anatomical terms of relationship and comparison, superomedial is a combined term which defines a structure which is nearer to the vertex and to the median plane. Its relation to the medical lifestyle is hilarious yet sensible. Being a rookie in medical school, a lecturer once said in an introductory class that 'If by the time you check the score board and you discover that your pals are far below you, leave them during study time and find friends who are superior and can help you'. A fellow class mate however shocked me with the fact that its actually 'superomedial' friends.       Who are the superomedials?       Medicine and Surgery, as noble and ...

Through the pin drop silence, Incessant beeps were being heard from bedside monitor machines, The operating lamp above strongly illuminating the room with its powerful beams, Air conditioners working tirelessly to ventilate the windowless room. A couple of surgeons seen round a bed, An IV drip on a frame dangling above their heads, Tactically severing and suturing, With cold steel in their hands, Their acute vision invariably alert, And perfectly honed manus in action. On the patient they worked, Doing their best to restore the dignity of man, To the initial constitution and psyche, In the bowels of the Homo sapien... The Plain Stylus,  © KAYODE AYOMIDE TIMILEHIN