Deadlier than a civil war,
It wouldn’t be a spiral sitar.
Mankind in tedium, and far away,
So disturbed in fears, and weary.
The world’s turned a village,
Locked down in huts and hurt.
Ajar from its rickety holes,
The miserable tale of our time.
All bereaved and distanced,
Divorced from diurnal practises.
The shadow of the world,
Ravaged by invisible monsters.
In the dawn, the flowers bewail,
In the twilight, the forest glooms.
Pitches and seminaries are blank,
Broods and coaches lazed on computers.
Uncertainty, the new tunes of régimes,
Of bleak and wriggled economy.
Pains and gasps, populace threatened,
Of a dreary and gruesome future.
Chatting and laughing elude the streets,
Depressed and curbed, and all sleep away.
It seems not safe anymore,
Maybe, a new world has emerged.
Still on COVID-19 Pandemic
Written by: Kolapo Abdul
kolapoems@gmail.com
May 29, 2020
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