By Emmanuel Goto
The Wuhan war dispersed to make rule
Like the legislature in my clime
As the heat hits the globe,
The rustling wind emerged in chilled and scorching
For we hungered to espy the wrapped tomorrow.
The howling sound pierced me the more
When the waves of the sea were furling
We etched to recover the lost minds.
To keep safe, let’s bow in the space
And slumber with the ache minds
For the novel code is to live like hermits.
As we gazed the globe in million times,
It countenance were masked with patches
Mumbling here and there in the cave
Wetting dried hands as measure.
Quarantine! Your fruits breed mourning and wailing,
Starving the pauper in gutter,
Clamouring the fatty flavoured and the wretched
Where the living deaths mourn like elephants.
I’m a poet because of Wuhan war
Which unlatched my ink to etch
And put pictures of covid that was born in 2019.
This sided globe is scaring me
We are murmuring for the rustling wind to calm.
The era that gave birth to pandemic
Come with drenching rain to imprison man
Like the poets that humoured yesterday.
