MY RHYMES

Your fate is bait,

To rate your faith,

And save you from what you hate,

On the date you always contemplate,

For you to graduate with a positive grade,

You have to abate the mate that grate,

Don’t let it be too late,

For you have to pass through the gate,

To a place where you’ll never depreciate.




My father is rather like a ladder,

Who shoulders me because he bothers,

My mother will never wither,

She is the leather that gathers,

For my body not to shiver,

In the unfriendly weather,

Even when situation becomes harder,

She is always there like a bladder,

Which never departs the urethra,

That’s why I love my father,

And yet I love my mother more.





You have no excuse to fail,

Because you are not born a tail,

And let your instinct to be bail,

From the element that makes you derail,

You can even try to sail,

Out of the seas of trouble that jails,

So that you can finally be hail.

I looked at him from afar,

And he seems to be barred,

From my believe to soar,

And become a star,

In the realm of the scholars,

Who am I aiming to grab,

But the knowledge of Allah,

And that of the world I am.