The world population shaken clean, WHO cries wolf with Covid Nineteen. Mission impossible to heal, they cry, If ever to reach the pie in the sky. Healing a virus with a comical twist Straight from the horse’s mouth the gist. Trump drops the WHO like a hot potato, Tells Gates the ball is in your court - bro. Are we barking up the wrong tree, Or beating around the bush are we Going the whole nine yards for sure, Cutting corners in search of a cure?
When I was thinking about writing a poem for a publication in view, I wondered if I could conjure up a light rhyming piece that explained the world’s current gloomy state with the use of a few idioms.
Well, this poem, in Rhyming Free Form, is the result. I invite writers and beginners to have a go at writing such a poem, no matter what form, no matter how long or how short. Send them to me at my email address, firstname.lastname@example.org, and I will review and report back. I will publish the top three in this chronicle in time to come.