Covid Riddle

I am Riddle 

I was Born to distract you 

A knowledge made to mis-track you 

A foresight to miss guide you 

 

Make you love me unconditionally 

At the same time hate me wholeheartedly 

I am fictitious so you cannot see me 

 

Swift like the river on a quiet evening 

Bright like the wind, if you envision me 

Mighty and strong like the jungle that raised me

 

1,2,3 you cannot count me

I am a king and queen, you cannot stereotype me 

Dead and alive so you cannot kill me

 

I was born and I became strong 

I was forged as someone’s vision 

I was born with that vision 

 

I can fly, I can swim 

I can climb, up and down like a stream 

I can laugh, I can sing, a poetry I seem 

 

I go black when it’s dark 

I go bright when every where is light 

In hindsight, I created to control your mind 

 

My Purpose remains a mystery

My impact shall never be forgotten in history

My sins are not mine but yours to reveal

 

Riddle me and rid you of me

My name is Covid

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COPYRIGHT © AHMAD ABDUL-ONE, 2020.

The golden Charmer

Knighted child in golden armor

Mattered not should ye be son to a farmer

A lawyer, doctor or even a Governor

The circle of life never existed in only one harbour

Yet this reality can be manipulated by a charmer

 

Knighted child in golden armor

Life seemed flexible from every angle in the mirror

Once away from the shadows of leisure

One would find the storm had never been heavier

Ye had only been sheltered under the family umbrella

 

A tradition of cosset

Shielded from all obstacles from birth

Ye’s Kindred meant no harm but good

Little did they forget the jungle is made of different woods

Some might be hard, and some soft

Ones Texture dictates the rationale behind his growth

 

A tradition of cosset

A facade to the feeble minded

A misplacement of value

Such tender a generation where trust weighs more than truth

A rooted foundation that warps our youth

 

Stories are told

Yet the truth remains to unfold

If the ultimate power is control

Then, a knighted child was only a means to a certain goal

How destructive a force yet attractive like gold

 

A knighted child in golden armor

Fell victim to the tradition of cosset

In plain sight is the absence of physical harm

While being ignorant to the notion of mental and emotional wants

To survive, the golden child needs to develop his personal charm

 

COPYRIGHT © AHMAD ABDUL-ONE, 2019.

The painter

A paint brush can paint a picture

ones’ twist that gets the mind richer

bunch of colours to a certain structure

all it takes is the right mixture

and the mind could create its theatre

past worries gone and life getting better

the mind throws out unwanted folders

one begins to keep positive composure

black and white as the paint brush over

life lessons comes but like a rollercoaster

grab the brush cause to your life you are the owner

If your life was human, would you paint it ?