Lockdown Poems
Thank you to everyone who has submitted Lockdown poems. On Sunday 5 July 2020 there was a Poetry of the Lockdown event as part of Ledbury Poetry Festival Online. The event featured a fascinating selection of Lockdown inspired poems, including poets commissioned by LPF, Naomi Shihab Nye, Sarala Estruch, Suzannah Evans, Elaine Beckett and Kim Moore. They read alongside poets who submitted to Ledbury Poetry Festival’s online call out. Hosted by Chloe Garner.
These poems were written during Lockdown and the Coronavirus pandemic, at a time when it seemed the whole country, and in fact the whole world was going through the same crisis. Though of course everyone’s individual experience of this situation is unique. I am aware, as many people are, that for people and places in the world, the challenges are huge and sometimes extremely harrowing, compared to my own. Nonetheless, in reading these poems, I find reflections on, and insight into, my own experiences. As well as differences. Other ways of thinking about, or seeing, what is happening in this present time. I have found these poems extremely resonant, and I hope you will too.
Thank you to everyone for their contribution.
Chloe Garner, Artistic Director
Your Poems
The Same Boat
by Julie Sheldon
‘We’re all in the same boat’ they say
But I would disagree
So many different sailing crafts
Upon this stormy sea
Some sail on ocean liners
In comfort, style, and ease
Relaxing on their balconies
….Sipping their G & Ts
Some speed along in motor boats
As if it’s all ok……
With little care for smaller crafts
Which may get in their way
Some struggle on their battleships
Where nothing’s going right
Endlessly preparing…..
For the next relentless fight
Some huddle in their lifeboats…
And pray that they’ll be saved
Hoping for a calmer sea…
And fearing every wave
Some drift around upon their rafts….
They barely stay afloat
They’re praying for a change of luck…
And chance to board a boat
Some haven’t found their sea legs yet….
And dread each wave and swell
They’re struggling to stay upright
And don’t feel very well
So whilst you’re on your journey
To a safe and calmer port
Look out for fellow sailors
Who may need some support
Could you throw them a life belt?
Or a paddle or an oar?
Perhaps you could help guide them
A bit nearer to the shore
This poem was later made into a short film that is now on YouTube
Some of the other contributions were read at a Zoom session in Ledbury’s online Festival in July 2020. Recordings of these are included with the following contributions where we have them.
Bubble Trouble
by Julie Sheldon
I am a single granny
With daughter, and a son
I’ve got a newish lover
And he’s a lot of fun!
Now I can make a ‘bubble’
But which house do I choose?
Someone will be offended
No matter what I do
Do I go to my daughter’s?
And help wipe snotty noses
Or do I see my lover?
For candlelight and roses
Do I go to my son’s house?
And risk an ear bashing
Or shall I go to lover boy’s?
And have some nights of passion
And then, there’s my friend Maureen
Who has nobody else
So shall I spend some time with her?
And not think of myself
Am I a granny dutiful?
On whom they can depend
Am I a selfish lover?
Or a dedicated friend?
This really is a problem
That I could do without
In fact, it was much simpler
When I could NOT go out
Oh Boris! Why’ve you caused me
Such a lot of trouble
I really don’t know what to do
With this flippin’ ‘social bubble’
Catch a Virus
by Clive Grewcock
When I was at school we used
Pencils and blackboard and jotters,
Now things are virtual,
But you can still catch a virus
From coughing and snotters.
Some of us
by Julie Sheldon
Some of us must stay at home
And not go out the door
Some of us are working
Like we’ve never worked before
Some of us are falling out
With siblings, Dads, and Mothers
Some of us are reaching out
And looking after others
Some of us are keeping busy
Doing lots of jobs
Some of us have given up……
We’re turning into slobs
Some of us are playing games
And learning brand new hobbies
Some of us are still ‘no good’
And watching out for Bobbies
Some of us have lots of friends
To text with and to phone
Some of us have no one
And feel that we’re alone
Some of us feel positive
And think that we’re in charge
Some of us feel anxious
And fear the world at large
Some of us have footpaths
To cycle, walk, and jog
Some of us have nowhere nice
To even walk the dog
Some of us are welcoming
New babies being born
Some of us have lost loved ones
And cannot truly mourn
None of us will ever know
What’s really going on
None of us will think the same
When all of this is done
All of us can choose to spend
Our days in fear and dread…..BUT
All of us can choose to plan
For better days ahead
What if it’s just Nature?
by Julie Sheldon
What if it’s just Nature
Taking back control
Questioning the actions
Of every living soul
What if it’s just Nature
Asking us to stop
To think about our planet
And treasure what we’ve got
What if it’s just Nature
Slowing us right down
Time to look around us
And see what can be found
What if it’s just Nature
Asking us to think
What is it that we really need?
Love, health and food and drink
What if it’s just Nature
Giving us the time
To be more understanding,
Generous and kind
What if it’s just Nature
Asking us to care
To think about each other
And sometimes just be there
What if it’s just Nature
Sending us this pain
Time to re-evaluate
Before we’re all insane
What if it’s just Nature
Setting us a test
To try to save our planet
Let’s do our very best!
Veins
by Emma Wells
A Venetian network:
meet, fuse, form.
Watery channelled communication;
aqua-hued veins – a circuitry of life,
commerce, love, society.
Gondoliers float, promising infatuation
on muddy churned inlets –
overexposed to humanity.
Our exploits.
Stripy candy costumes entice sugar-
craved tourists to taste the city’s sweetest wares;
where love’s promise is sold
at an extortionate price.
London’s Underground:
a multi-hued snake
weaving textures, colours, shapes.
Its pathways are arterial veins
rushing to and fro perpetually linking
nerve endings,
vital organs,
sacred hearts in the palms of its metal soul.
Medical corridors mimic veinal format –
each cubicle a tiny blood clot hiding drama,
risk, suppressed panic.
Nurses, doctors, registrars skittle towards pins
in a frenzy of duty, service, long shifts.
Sweat drips from their overplayed,
uncool veins.
City airports heave with a throng of tourism –
each department gate an exit. A blood outlet.
Drops plummet from airborne wings as they rise
to fruition,
distant climes…
Onboard, a central veinal corridor acts
as a skeletal backbone for all:
a bringing of nourishment, safety, scarlet-clad,
overtly wide, waxy smiles.
Tarmac veins cast steely maze-like patterns
across London’s aerial views –
the M25: a beating pulse, ventricles, a central pathway.
Traffic jams mimic reduced fluency.
Motor.
Flow.
Jam.
Stop.
Fluid ceases to rotate, creating oxygen
starved passengers.
Cars line up heaving laboured breath –
too long captured in tin-canned warmth.
Social media: the loudest heart thrum.
She beckons all focus, mind matter,
conscious, current thought.
This siren winds her veinous, electronic
circuitry tightly amidst upheld fingers.
Willing hostages. Compliant. Passively taken.
Phone charge leads are fibrous veinal columns:
connecting, reaching, formatting a virtual,
veinous world.
Its orthography was perfect
by Aurora B.E. Blue
Its orthography was perfect,
lock – down, protect the NHS, save lives, control the virus, social distance, stay alert,
“wake up! put on masks! the time has come!
But beyond choking pollution, lungs fill with death,
changing day in, night out, dizzying times.
Knock – Knock – who’s there? All the G’S outside our door, 1-5, popping away constantly!
It draws right angles in front of your eyes but some see through it all …
Still Orangutans fall from trees …
Jaws are control – shaped. Locked in its jaws, full of power, I & you
Salisbury
by Will Daunt
SP2 7EN: 18/6/2020
Driving to work I’d pass that imagined
close where in thirty odd years 47
would toxify rushing off its owners
One summer I dithered on a downland
rim then ran from the rain as Chernobyl
churned out terror vapours hours away Now
the telly re-tells these as they weren’t not
like the now we know from breathing fretting
virally A Finnish show showed rabies’
empty kennels these and other warnings.
Re-imagined Photo Album
by Martha Iris Blue (aged 12)
like oak, only older, stiller, stilling, waiting for a whispering wind to wake me from the silence,
orchards, vast, decaying, crumbling within pocked cement stone walls – keep-out! fruit pilferers,
dust clouds clouding, only They know it is there …
kneeling in a puddle of pitter-pattering birdsong; feeling hazy rays of sunlight blazing through showering shadows of greying raindrops, knelt as in prayer, there, day after day after day…
now living in a kingdom of cackling crows, cawing against the crackling fizz of radio stations echoing in every background,
I once knew Quiet, knew Quench, knew Waterfalls falling into summer daydreams, knew Lichen, knew thoughtful thinking, knew lasting tearful embraces …
memories like Oceans finger the land, touching minds, pull away, drawing, as near but ever away again and again and again…
obscured sunsets, drenched fields now soaked like soft felt cloth, set amongst struggling burned, speckled with magpies and ravens that truly knew this place
opaque stones, warmed by evening suns, silhouette against ultra-marine seas of sombre stars, steal the sky for themselves, overpowering the moon’s sheen, slowly sink into morning: Us
A life with no colour
by Charlotte Jolley
Our world of innocence was caught unaware,
Taunted by a malicious nightmare,
Locked inside for the foreseeing future,
An experiment gone wrong; a distorted sculpture.
We wait through day for that word of relief,
Citizens spiral into psychotic belief,
“Lives have been lost” says the newspaper ad,
Coronavirus is sending people mad.
Where to go; what to do,
We try our best to struggle through,
The roads are clear from cars and bikes,
No long walks or country hikes.
Isolated from family and friends,
Trapped inside till the crisis ends,
Can we survive this helpless attack?,
A life with no colour: only black.
Thankful in lockdown
by Isha Matharu
We all knew 2020 would be unique,
The days turned into weeks, then months,
The government repeatedly gave warnings of social distancing,
And the world sat there listening.
Today, I am thankful for family,
But it is not just me, it is all of us internationally,
Another reason of gratitude is technology,
and all the scientists who studied biology.
And the people who right now work hardest of all,
Are the NHS who stand up tall.
This is for all the people who have lost their jobs in this pandemic,
And all those who are diabetic,
and those who work as paramedics,
This is for all the people suffering from COVID-19,
This is for those with bad hygiene,
This is to make you realize,
That we should be thankful for those who we miss the most in this time.
Socially Distanced
by Michael Lawrence
It’s Sunday morning. The sky
is the colour it does best.
I have changed the contents
of the cats’ litter trays and
disinfected what needs
disinfecting. Now I sit here
in my brown leather chair,
ankles crossed on its matching
footstool, cup of cappuccino
at my elbow, scrawling this.
A small buzzing that’s not
my ears, a bee or wasp
my weak eyes can’t locate,
otherwise quiet in an old
farmhouse at the end of a long
well-pitted track a world
and worlds away from other
people’s versions of isolation,
socially distanced by
scribbles in a pad.
Defenceless
by Tess Biddington
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Choosing January and
for the third attempt
to withdraw the medication
that keeps the walls neutral
and conforming for me, that
sets the bar (no lower but
no higher) those weevils
are returning to the woodwork,
churning through old rot and
making new.
There is so much
to consume, forces and events
allied to fight off the choking,
chronic obstructions with
a weapon of its own. Maps
colour the insurrection’s
most brutal invasions; satellites
pick out the keloids, tiny scars
in their rows on the red earth,
where we are or will be buried.
We are made enemies, deprived
of touch, faces barely readable,
we die alone
our last breath no release.
And, for days, sun pulls seedlings
from their coats, wildflowers
are named by chalk scrawls
on the pavement, birds teach us
their songs, the Earth calms itself
and we wait and shuffle
in masked queues our skin warm,
nothing
else to do but wait and look around.
Faded Rainbows
by Francis Charters
We thought it would be over before the month of May,
They said it was a type of flu, and would soon go away,
But now it really looks as if the crown of colds could stay,
Faded rainbows.
It was the Chinese Cholera, from a burger made of bat,
Then Italy and Spain got it, what did we think of that?
When super-spreaders brought it here, we were really in the crap.
Faded rainbows.
And lockdown cost us billions, cash we could ill afford,
But furlough gave us income, and time of getting bored,
A life quite low and leisurely became our just reward,
Faded rainbows.
But Malvern is a pretty place to lockdown with a friend,
My kids bring life and laughter and a family to defend
And Claire has kept her promise to love me to the end
of faded rainbows.
Plaguelock
by Juhi Joshi
The sudden invasion of pathogens
left humanity in dungeons.
As we sit and witness the ordeal
heaps of corpses are left ideal.
The priest in white apron
and the enlist in beige patron
working hand in hand selflessly
in a honourable exemplary.
The humankind is startled
Gaea smiles and terra sparkles
the passerine advancing towards havens
as the tellus recuperates from our abrasions.
Take comfort and know
better days lie ahead,
but first we must endeavour
to keep a cool head!
London Lockdown
by Angela Wigglesworth
On 26th March the government finally took stock,
As lock down was announced, at 8 o clock,
Stay at home and isolate was their simple request,
And listen to guidelines as they know what’s best,
We listen to the guidelines and fear for the months ahead,
And get angry with those idiots who still go out instead,
Now there are no pubs or bars left open, schools and gyms are closed,
Not just in the uk, but all around the globe
Our routines have all been changed, we work from home with regular naps,
And Friday nights are spent indoors, on video calling apps,
Girls dye their hair themselves, and boys shave theirs heads,
We’re running out of ventilators, and hospital beds,
But the NHS staff continue and their work is so admired,
Working long shifts, saving lives, even those who once retired
Our minor day to day problems, no longer seem to matter, no one cares about their weight, or if their getting fatter
With death tolls rising everywhere – the uk, the us and China,
The least of your concerns, is waxing your vagina
How long will this lockdown last – we still have no idea,
According to the news, it will be a while until the we’re clear
Now is the time, for communities to come together,
And pray this will all be over, in time for summer weather
So take shopping to elderly neighbours, but leave it at the gate,
Reminisce about the good times With your missed best mate,
We should get out while we still can, enjoy our daily walk,
Call family often, with no reason, just to talk,
Although these times are really tough, we must stay positive and excited,
As in the not too distant future, we’ll all be reunited.
Everything
by Paul Kidd Hewitt
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In the middle of this infinite black sea,
Amongst millions of blazing stars,
Hanging delicately by a golden thread,
You and I are here,
And that is everything.
Haiku -The New Normal
by Kamla Murti
Haiku : 1
The New Normal
The dolphins swim,
While rhino gallops down the lane
Is this new normal?
Haiku :2
The New Normal
Peacocks strut in streets
While I rejoice in peace
Is this new normal?
Lockdown
by Paul Ryan
Lockdown ended – but not for Me
Gonna have to have another cup of Tea
Stuck inside for at least another Month
Watching Black Lives Matter
And Statues that refuse to Move
What a World we have Become
Please show Kindness to Everyone !
First of April Twenty-Twenty
by Jennifer Ridout
First of April Twenty-Twenty
It’s April fool’s day today,
But nothing to laugh about.
More people will die from this virus.
Of that I have no doubt.
Google haven’t set up any
Joke news articles this year.
They assumed we wouldn’t like them,
But they’d have brought some cheer.
I didn’t see any on the telly,
Or hear any on the radio.
Just lots of talk of Covid-19.
Our current invisible foe.
Gowns
by Jennifer Ridout
I’m trying to make sure,
My dressing gown doesn’t become
My ‘depressing gown.’
I’m unlikely to wear
A ballgown for a while.
All events are currently cancelled.
I have little chance
Of fitting back into
My wedding gown ten years on.
I’ll do my best during this,
Not to end up ill
And wearing a hospital gown.
Ten Things to be Thankful For
by Jennifer Ridout
My family are all safe and well.
I am able to speak to them.
I can enjoy more time with Owen.
The weather is warming up.
There are spring flowers to look at.
My mental health is good now.
I know I can get through this.
I have a good job to go back to.
We are fanatically stable.
Wildlife is recovering without us.
Yesterday I Spent
by Jennifer Ridout
Yesterday I spent three hours,
On Facebook and shopping sites.
(Trying to avoid the bad news)
.
Yesterday I spent over £400,
On stuff I didn’t really need.
(Most I’ll send back for refunds)
.
Yesterday I also spent my money,
On presents for upcoming birthdays.
(I’m sorted for up to October now)
.
Yesterday I spent five hours,
Idly watching telly.
(Mainly CBeebies and This Morning)
.
Yesterday I spent an hour,
Walking in spring sunshine.
(We spotted some new flowers)
.
Yesterday I spent another,
Weeding the vegetable patch.
(Ready to plant seeds Dad gave us)
.
Yesterday I spent twenty pounds
On books for homeschooling Owen.
(Trying to keep us motivated)
.
Yesterday I spent no time,
With family I don’t live with.
(I didn’t even phone any of them)
.
Yesterday I spent only moments,
Actually awake on my own.
(Today I’ll get some me time for poetry)
.
Yesterday I spent too much time,
Worrying about the Corona virus.
(It’s hard not to when it’s so bad)
.
Yesterday I spent a while,
Searching for moisturiser.
(My hands are so dry from washing)
.
Yesterday I spent too long
Biting my nails and cuticles.
(We’re to avoid touching our face)
.
Yesterday I spent the night
In the spare room’s single bed.
(I went to bed later than Phil)
.
Yesterday I spent ages
Trying to get to sleep.
(Feeling bad that I’d wasted time)
Good Friday
by Jennifer Ridout
The sun was shining today.
It was warm in the garden,
And on our walk along the river.
We set up ramps for Owen,
To drive his monster truck over.
We enjoyed a roast pork lunch.
Owen discovered that he
Absolutely loves crackling,
But found the road parsnips,
We too ‘sugary’ for him.
It wasn’t the day we had planned,
With circus at the theatre
And a big family get together,
But it was definitely a good Friday.
Socially Distant
by Jennifer Ridout
When I was feeling really low,
This was the normal state of being.
Staying at home with just Owen.
I’ve been better at keeping in touch,
In the past fortnight than usual.
I’m just glad we have the hand,
The technology to do so.
If this happened twenty years ago,
Life would have been so different.
No video calls or online shopping.
Just dial-up internet and a land line.
My son doesn’t really understand,
All that is going on in the world.
I’ve kept news off round him.
He knows that we are trying to avoid,
A nasty virus that is going around.
He’s missing his school friends.
I’m sure they miss him too.
Axel Scheffler has done illustrations,
Of Julia Donaldson’s characters,
Complying with the distancing rules.
Supermarkets have put down marks
On the floor, so people stay apart
From one another and stay safe.
There are often queues to get in,
Du to the restrictions on the number
Of customers in each store at a time.
They’ve put Perspex screens up,
To protect the checkout staff.
Even the cars at Phil’s work,
Are staying one space apart.
So many are working from home,
Or are part of the Furlough scheme,
That there’s so few cars on site.
bum bum
by Tiago Wayne
There are little streams
Black as the ribbons
On an undertaker’s hat
And a welsh pony
Standing in the buttercup
Embroidered field
And a jogger ,unaware
That they had stepped
Into heaven looking
At his watch.
Lunch Hour
by Nicholas Starkey
It was lunch hour
And the shop was as empty as concrete.
They were only letting fifty people
In the store at a time
Due to the recent lockdown rules
Amid the coronavirus outbreak.
What worried people most
Was not the virus itself
But the outlook it had on humanity.
Outside, Gary,
Whose wife killed herself
After being raped by her dad,
Was sitting down
and being harassed by security
For holding a cup.
Knockdown
by Nicholas Starkey
This lockdown
Is an old-fashioned knockdown.
Streets are angry with iron,
And lips are touching germ.
People are recorded as saying,
Why does it happen to us
Every time, yet we
Try hard for it not to?
This lockdown
Is a new-famished eclipse
Of pinnacle human expression –
No touching allowed.
Our dearest
Seem alien, almost different
From who we knew them as
Months prior.
This lockdown
Has a motive.
To turn people for better; for worse.
The choice is not the lockdown’s.
People have shown
Who they are –
Even in lockdown,
The homeless are
Left out.
Free Time
by Christina Bezzina
I woke at 4am!, ?, No my watch’s no longer ticking
No clock shops during lockdown, my handcuffs gently slipping.
Sipping coffee in the garden I awaken to the day
But wait, the water butt is leaking – drip, drip,
Tick, tick
I’m in charge, its my free time not theirs.
How dare those individual droplets escape the dark confines
And break my dreams. I need them. Drippy hippies!
I make a stand and put a stop, turn the screw, screw the tap.
Freedom for them would flood the world, break down the
gates. THAT’S NOT ALLOWED.
Now peace regains but for the pigeons’ clap. Is it Thursday?
My free time melts to One-day.
One day I’ll always have chance to just watch the baby birds
Faltering at the feeder to shouts of concern from others,
Mothers?
The plants meanwhile are busy doing nothing in the sun,
Until tomorrow morning when I check on what they’ve done.
A seed of mine bears fruit, a shoot, while the world is broken
Free time cascades around me, I’m almost drowning with relief.
No one watches me right now, I’ve slipped outside “The System”
I’ve made it through those walls and to the other side.
I listen to those deep down calls and make a promise to myself:
Free time.
Maternity Leave
by Lisa Marie Shepherd
I sing nursery rhymes while a masked nurse gives you your jabs
We wash our hands
We visit the park and wish good morning to strangers, two metres apart
We clap for key workers
You try to roll on the mat as the daily death toll is announced
We wash our hands
You give your first smile at grandparents over videocall, my mother cries
We visit the park
There are no baby groups or sensory play, I panic buy a disco light
We clap for key workers
I put my mask on in front of you, so you’re not afraid
We wash our hands
You giggle as I shout at the TV briefing, thinking it’s a game
We visit the park
I hold you close
We clap for key workers
I cry
If you ever ask what it was like, I’ll describe your dad pulling silly faces at you during work telephone calls
and how lucky he felt to bath you every night
I’ll tell you that we witnessed the kindness of strangers, community spirit and war veterans honouring our precious health service
I’ll describe that mild May night when Meteors lit up the night sky and I held you above my head so you could swim amongst the stars
I’ll tell the story of when we woke to hear the first dawn chorus of the year, opening windows so we could watch spring swirl around your bedroom
We washed our hands
We visited the park
We clapped for key workers
and I’ll remind myself that
we did our best
Box Brownie Memories
by Phil Carswell
Box Brownie Memories
Summer Sunday,
When we sat in some quiet lane
Munching sandwiches,
And drinking thermos tea,
The day stretched ahead ,lazy
Bathed in childhood memory ,
Captured on Box Brownies
To be released on rainy nights
To bring back moments
Spent together ,
The whole of life lay ahead .
The only stress was school on Monday
Heralded by the Sunday evening bath,
Then the week with it’s smell of wet tarmac and brick clad streets
Until the next weekend .
Now the quiet lane is empty .
Sunday picnics replaced with leisure centres ,
Shopping trips and online engagement .
To wander down a lane and back
Now seems a pointless task ,
Photo albums replaced with discs and icloud stores
No sitting watching a slide show of summers spent in Wales
Now its off to Florida or Spain .
The world is bigger
The possibilities are endless .
Until now .
When this silent killer changed the game .
So back to the woods for quieter times
And Box Brownie dreams again .
restrictive social distance
by jules blue
is it easy looking backwards now to former scenes of exuberance and capitalist extravagance in markets of gossip of dross and of hip to the tip of the tittle-tattle-tonguing cultural exchange of people passing people passing on people on stupendously-expensive pendulous pedals and heels pedalling the confetti masquerade of coffee-wine-café crowds whose accessorising identities were allowed to hang around in a stolen dance of sinful syntax seemingly untaxable beneath beautiful bejewelled architectures of children playing with unsupervised children contracting the social abstract all over like over-spilling flower-stalls like bursting fountains like a pandemic virus of white noise driven by the hunger for sensation behind the trance of conformity or the rolling out radioactive 5G enormity but is there still a heart between brain and loin in our highest of places? What beheld us? A virus of sorts? An aerosolised globalised lab-test? An anti-pollution revolution? Revelation of a new world order? A dislike of sports? No: restrictive social distancing.
so now to scenes of dancing in sun-printed patterns of an eternal spring lining the darkest spectral voids of emptied playgrounds and urbanised sun-pastelled facades fading fast with the last fading free light of free trades broken by the merciless-indifferent cruel-oppressive happy-ignorant fortunate-mad undignified-arrogant no-science-in-conscience-closed-circle straightjacketing melancholy of births deaths marriages all equally quietened by desensitised masses taking classes in futile binary confrontations with drones and surveillance whilst the silent forgotten majority plead for emotional death beyond emergent churches jostling for urgent face-times as children sad as cut flowers are reduced to mass-produced mechanised expressions trained to order endless order expressing anaesthetised tongues of barbaric alienation in incalculable sadness anonymising whose indifference to the political-non-political soi-disant social contract of neutralised anguish as complete as aloneness and subservience to incommunicable fears and institutionalised freedoms of a politics that reads like a sentence: from Left to Right in just a few words: looking forward to looking back again
Swifts
by Tom Anderson
I look up from the garden
and there they are, two swifts
gliding high in the blue sky
while sunlight plays
on their crescent wings.
It is a spring morning here,
so green and beautiful
it could pass for paradise,
apart from the mourners
apart from the coffins.
Life goes on, death goes on.
But when the smoke rises
from the innocuous chimneys,
who will notice anything else
in those green spaces, that blue sky?
Flaming Tulips
by Lisa Lopresti
Robin redbreast, flaming tulips
lean towards the mellow sun
their black and yellow hearts
look to rosemary’s pale purple plumage
on this unblemished
forget me not Spring day.
The sparrows chirping
and the warm, low sun’s tendrils
sooth a smile
to mouth corners
still the black and yellow tulip hearts
lightly bob their portent.
The world now tainted in isolation
except for small and large, black screens
creating cold blue glows
other colours hint from windows
at night, parish lanterns silver
threads the scene.
Daylight and reality
black and yellow hearts are known – unseen
spring is blue, yellow and citron green
hoping under clear skies, that black bags
and yellowing bodies
are not summers fate.
Schools are closed
David Babatunde Wilson
Schools are closed!
The minister said
To halt the dread disease
But not quite closed
As I sing and dance
Head, shoulders, toes and knees
Schools are closed!
The parents said
Except for workers key
But not quite closed
As I stand and sup
My early morning tea
Schools are closed!
The papers said
Bar those with special needs
But not quite closed
As teachers sow
The lifelong learning seed
Schools are closed!
The people said
As staff work on the net
But not quite closed
To love and care
As children’s needs are met
Zoom
by David Babatunde Wilson
Everyone’s on video calls
With Zoom and Team and Skype
Which means that I can see your face
I don’t just have to type
We’re talking on the phone more
The Internet is buzzin
I’m catching up with old school friends
And messaging my cousin
There’s WhatsApp for my family
And friends who are on furlough
It gets a bit frustrating
When the WiFi’s on a go-slow
Let’s keep in touch by any means
By phone or app or post
Check in with friends and neighbours
And those you love the most
The sounds of lockdown
by Dee Allen
The empty silence of city streets
Closed pubs that never call time
Theatres missing their encores
Singers cut off in their prime.
Bird calls and tweets fill the air
Nature has full rein to breathe
As humans hunker down at home
And grounded planes no longer leave.
Joggers pound the pavements
Shouting cyclists pedal by
The dance to keep our distance
Cursing those who just won’t try.
The constant chatter of Zoom calls
Is your sound on, love? I can’t see
Ooh, I like your snazzy wallpaper
Is there time for the loo or some tea?
Clapping for carers on Thursdays
The welcome plop of the post
The beep beep beep of the bin men
Key workers we now praise the most.
The hiss and sizzle of the barbecue
Sunny days merge together as one
The loud smash of glass being recycled
We ask: “When will lockdown be gone?”
New Morning Normal
by Jo Eccles
Get out of bed? What time? What for?
An Amazon delivery at the door
Is the only incentive I have these days
To stir myself from a duvet-clad haze
You want some breakfast? Help yourself;
There’s crisps and Kit-Kats on the top shelf
For God’s sake, you want fruit instead?
There’s half a chocolate orange by my bed.
Plait your hair? Just leave it in dreadlocks?
No clean knickers? No matching socks?
Yes, watch telly until midday…
We’ll start the homeschooling later, ok?
one day
by Judy Dinnen
One day…
One day, we’ll step out of doors,
walk down the street, meet our friends,
share a cup of coffee and chocolate cake.
One day we’ll play football, build a fire,
roast potatoes, sing a shanty, climb a
mountain. We’ll open wide church doors.
One day we’ll cry for the lost,
remember the stillness and separation
with due respect, carry the candle
of calm into our daily lives, watch with joy,
as petals open, birds build their nests,
bumble bees fly from flower to flower.
We’ll remember to stop, be still,
cherish birdsong and new blossom.
We’ll cook and converse with new care,
study and travel with eyes open.
We’ll pray and praise with new vigour.
We’ll break bread with fresh delight.
We’ll message, email and zoom with
new respect, with love and diligence.
Together with friend and stranger,
we’ll know our deep humanity, our
links across waves and mountain.
We’ll hold hands and share vision.
One day we’ll remember and share,
carry the candle of calm into daily life,
respect the stranger, cry for the lost.
One day we’ll celebrate our whole world.
Gestation
by Harry Owen
Sure as babies,
nine months down the line
there’ll be a boom
of virus poems.
No one will ask
Do you remember
what you were doing when…?
because we’ll all know:
the wailing and teething,
the semantic nappy-changing
will be quite
unmistakable.
Ironing in Lockdown
by Nicola Harrison
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Soft Everest of laundry, avalanche of the un-pressed
dispossessed dresses that once had occasions,
hang like reproaches in hushed wardrobe air:
the red halter neck now hobbled by Covid
and fine woollen shawls moth-doilied in drawers
like old horse blankets cast aside, eclipsed
by shorts and trainers, no glamour now
no skull and crossbone-jewelled earrings
from Butler and Wilson, oh those hoops,
such fancy bling! The shops are shut, no sign of opening.
Same old corona garb, washed every day
quick on at rising, no-one to see creases
In unfolded shirts, or dark roots in hair.
Fuzz on legs, bikini lines, eyebrows thicken, breasts
find benign slopes in braless idleness. Gels on toes
wander from cuticles in reversed half-moons
lurid in neon pink. They do not pass Go,
and hands are tough as hoofs from sanitiser
or wrung, like grief, in water, to the Happy Birthday tune.
Even so I iron the red halter and the black frilled frock
suspend them from hangers, let them breathe while I admire
the person who was that person who wore that dress
and the red lipstick and the plucked brows and the toenails scarlet
At the Gate
by Lily Cleary
I remember the moment that I stood in the moonlight with more stars in the sky than I had seen for years
And I held the bin bag, which had dripped something acrid and unlike anything we had thrown away along the hall floor – and now I stood
At the gate, looking out into the yellow-lit street, even the yellow didn’t dull the stars
I stood with a single, distinct, thought; “there’s nothing for me out here anymore”
We haven’t left this postcode for 13 weeks
We are less afraid now, and I try to remember the things that we used to do, when we could do things
I wonder if the world is divided into those who stand at their gates with the whisper of night on their face, wishing to be free
And those who lock the door until it’s over, and probably long after it’s over, because it’s safe in here.
A Stranger in the House
by Victor Sarkin
A Stranger in the House
A sense of disturbance
I knock firmly on the door
Yet I have a key.
My family rejoices but I
Feel unseen. This building
I spent my life to build, is not my home.
Outside this house is talk
Of freedom and peace for all,
But they don’t mean me.
Inside, I teach my children about rights
They will not have. I may as well
Have taught them of wrongs,
Which will be theirs anyway.
I am afraid to turn on the light,
Afraid of what I will find.
Illumination does not ever highlight
Anything good, you see.
I step with trepidation through the house,
as I have only
Learned to walk
In this awkward manner.
Whenever I am asleep, I am plagued
With unrest, as I need to be
Presentable when the new day arrives.
Water, power, are paid up,
Yet using it brings anxiety.
I expect reprimand
For using too much.
I don’t know how much longer
I will be fit for this type of living.
Yet I live. And live. And live.
Untitled
by Sakshi Shinde
Being forced into isolation
feels stagnating.
Like flies abuzz on fruits in the market
on a hot, summer day.
Random bursts of underlying emotion,
All abruptly surface.
Been feeling like crying the past couple of days.
It’s indescribable
Yet every little thing can be described.
But I am just not able.
There’s a whole blur of emotions that,
right now, I simply cannot deal with.
Makes me want to crawl into the fetal position
and just accept defeat.
Crave human interaction that’s not the
same two faces I see everyday.
But technology only meets that need halfway.
Have to study, need to work
But lost all my will to put in effort.
Planned to be so productive,
Drew up a schedule.
Can’t seem to do anything,
feel like a failed work mule.
mentality of lockdown
by Edward Parish
Because I could not challenge lockdown;
It did kindly challenge me.
Does the lockdown make you shiver?
Does it?
I saw the security of my generation destroyed,
How I mourn the freedom.
Does the loss of freedom make you shiver?
Does it?
Politician’s communicating virtually
Above all others is the robotism
Does this robotic nature make you shiver?
Does it?
The legal instrument that’s really important
Above everything is the isolating lockdown.
Safety now is essential, safety is lifesaving
Does this make you shiver?
Does it?
Haiku: Schools Closed
by Connor Parish
Schools closed;
Exams cancelled!
Young futures ruined?
Lockdown
by Jennifer Boit
Suddenly the world is on hold
Is it rearranging or disintegrating?
I have shut out the world
Cannot see my family
Touch them or be with them.
This new world is strange
This new life is something I cannot understand or get used to
Suddenly it’s a new way of life
Only to go out to the shop
Two meter apart
Oh what have we come to
Is this virus with us for a while
Hope it goes soon I don’t like rules
My mental state is not right
I now fear I cannot think clear
Will this virus hit me or will I survive?
Everything I touch I feel out of control
Is nature trying to tell us something?
To leave well alone
Earth is rearranging to stop it disintegrating.
Oh Corona!
by Shagun Jain
Covid -19 ..was it a gimmick?
Spreading from one country to another was soon graded a pandemic.
Starting from a laboratory in Wuhan it became virulent in all countries,
A big scare for every soul ..was initially found in people with travel history.
Covering face with masks and sanitizing the hands,
Became a norm for everyone but were hoping that it ends.
Travel became a restriction ,no matter what was planned,
It was too soon to anticipate the disaster it would shend.
Quarantine and Isolation started as it spread from one individual to another,
People now had become cautious as they felt it would smother.
SOCIAL DISTANCING started and life came to a still ,
Movie halls restaurants or malls- no one could fill,
Finally, came the lockdown ,as the virus had begun to spill.
Panic overwhelmed the masses as they became jobless,
How would they feed their families! They were just clueless.
Doctors nurses and so many warriors are still working hard for us
Risking their lives as they want us to live without a fuss.
The Corona scare is still on and spreading,
Stay home and be safe ,the world is begging.
Now that Malls, Restaurants, Religious places & hotels are open, yet control your lust,
For, the virus Corona is still active & still is far away from our trust.
Lockdown Parents
by Sarah Smith
Lockdown parents
I hope you can relate
Its been a long time
Since they shut the school gate
I was going to be the best teacher
I had a schedule on the wall
Pe with Joe wicks
Then maths English and more
I was going to teach them everything
While juggling the everyday tasks
It would be fun and different
Who was I kidding I now ask
Nearly three months later
And my house is a state
The schedule was ripped up
By the first lockdown update
Nine o’clock start
You must be kidding
If they are dressed before twelve
I’m totally winning
Three meals a day
Breakfast lunch and tea
That went out the window
Times those meals by twenty three
Then there’s the guilt
That they didn’t do their spellings
Because they were on the playstation
Building new Minecraft villages
You can try to clean up
But as soon as you stop
A hurricane passes through
And ruins the lot
You can try to make projects
Or find fun things to play
But attention span is low
And they just run away
As for exercise forget Joe wicks
Walking to the shop to get important bits
Lugging back bags filled to the brim
With lots of snacks and bottles of gin
Forget about bedtime
That doesn’t exist anymore
Because the kids aren’t tired
But they are constantly bored
At least I can say
I made it, kept the kids alive
I did my best with what I had
Even if gin helped me to survive
We are all amazing
You better believe its true
So be proud of yourselves
Yes be proud of you!!!
Hope
by Clive Grewcock
My mood goes down but
As I lie here looking at
The moon, grateful
I wasn’t broken by
Another day,
I can have hope for
Tomorrow’s dawn.
Internet searches during lockdown
by Emma Mason
How long is this lockdown likely to last?
What are some ways to make the time go fast? Best home workouts for beginners
Recipes for healthy but easy home-made dinners
What are some new skills that I can learn?
Can English sun give you sun burn?
How to teach yourself the guitar
Chords for Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
Best way to stop getting such dry hands? When is the soonest I can start to make plans? Should disinfectant be injected?
How and why was Trump elected?
Should I be wearing a mask for my face?
Where can I buy a pretty mask with lace?
How many units of alcohol should you drink in a week? What happens now we are past the peak?
Can I send back gym kit bought online?
How many bottles in a case of wine?
What are the best ways to be staying alert?
Is it bad to be only living in sweatshirts?
Am I allowed outside more than once a day? Have I become a quarantine cliché?
How many people can I see at one time?
Is sitting in a park considered a crime?
Why is Ireland allowing 6 people to meet?
What is 2 metres measured in feet?
Best deals for six flights to Ireland for cheap
Why am I having such weird dreams in my sleep?
Why has 2020 been such a bad year?
Unemployed graduate, will I have a career?
Are pubs set to be re-open soon?
Will this lockdown be over by June?
Grieved in Absence
by Ermira Mitre
How pitiable for inmates to become gravediggers,
and bury thousands of dead in mass graves.
How grotesque was funeral homes’ peak,
“When did they serve the most and briefest wakes?”
For graveyards these months were the busiest,
grief echoed across the older graves.
good men buried unsung from their dearest,
souls ascending to heaven, from this injured earth.
Many died, thousands were buried, people trembled,
the loved ones wailed and grieved, in absence.
Meditations on the Spring Lockdown
by Ermira Mitre
In March and April, the Sun warms the Earth,
smoothing its frozen winter layers,
swelling and opening its pores to breathe,
Indoors, we sense the Spring’s awakening.
We gaze at Spring’s smile in innocence,
pink petals blooming on peach-tree boughs,
a retinue of baffled tulips, chrysanthemums,
in ambiguity, humanity ribboned with so much anguish!
We smell the dirt’s fervor fusing the air,
watch the flowers’ buds blossoming outside.
In the vigil of pandemic self-imprisoning,
we feel drowned in novel social distancing.
Every man, child, pet, locked down in houses,
the new incubators of a civilized threat,
no one has a clue what caused the lewd virus,
some say it bursts from blind eyes of bats.
Hence, it’s still a heavy air in deserted streets;
emptied by this demonic, harmful disease.
It has steamed the flow in our cities’ arteries
has thwarted their life’s bloodstream.
O, Men, now you blame the Wind of the East
for this pseudo-alive virus, swiping all the rest,
North and South, and the farthest West.
while we, inside, with a burden in our heart, unrested!
Wrapped in a heavy curtain of self-isolation,
worse than the Iron Curtain of Cold War,
humankind is calling for its last survival,
“shelter in place, wash your hands, wear masks”,
the virus has outraced human intelligence.
One Day Soon
by Alison Lovett
With pots and pans and clapping hands on Thursdays we still gather
To congratulate the NHS and all those that really matter
Our thoughts go out to those ones lost and those that have recovered
To Captain Moore who raised the bar with his fundraising efforts
Rainbows of hope that children paint hang proud at many window
Bright in colour, true to form though pots of gold have dwindled
Cars rest idle by the kerbs, their exhausts so still and silent
Shank’s pony paves the way more healthy and reliant
One day soon we all will chat about the months that were
We’ll hug our friends rejoice and play, the lockdown a mere blur
Lockdown Universe
by Brenda Cox
Sun-filled walks extend our universe.
Newly ploughed fields – never before had I seen such beauty in the brown, velvet loam –
distant green dales, moors,
bumble bee charged meadows blanketed with butterflies, wild flowers,
delicate spring blossom reaching to the sky, enveloping us in its fragile beauty,
silence broken only by yearning birdsong and
hedgerows chirping and rustling with invisible inhabitants.
A lark trills above, her tireless, piccolo tune piercing the clear, blue air.
A robin perches on an overhead wire, his song soaring,
embracing his ownership of this new world.
A changed world.
For how long?
Viral
by Rich Hammond
It came from the far east
And unlike any beast
It’s wanting so much more
Hear it knock on your door
Just don’t dare let it in
It’s a game you can’t win
Yes, you’ve got a clean mask
Now you’ve set it a task
By standing two paces
‘Did I?’ – your heart races
Touch the door handle there
With your fingers all bare?
So your mind fails to trace
That you’re touching your face
A life reduced to fear
No, it can’t happen here
With time goes the tension
And you never mention
Stepping in your friend’s zone
It’s hard to be alone
House Arrest
by Jeanette Plumb
Numb, dumb, stalled, walled
Automatic pilot Act – do – work
Don’t think, feel, too deeply
Floating, frothing, retching, reaching nothing, blocking
Dam breaking
Longing, lurching, lamenting
Flaring, freeing, reeling, floating
In a rut, stuck, do, do, do
Hiding, comfort, stretching towards familiar
Manage, smile, conquer, win
Fighting, fleeing, floating, reeling, being
Reach, retch, regurgitate – don’t fall, don’t call
Do, do do,
Control or chaos, plan or plummet, catch or crumble
Fight, flight, freeze all
Fumbling, fleeing, falling, floating, flailing
Feeding, mask slipping
No fresh manna
Shape, escape, reel in
Real, hit that wall, keep on running
Dig deep to the store, the core
Mine it well,
Then drink, drink, drink
Living Water
Joseph’s Hug
by Elizabeth Whitaker
The joy with which you call out to me, “Grandma”, as you run into my open arms.
Small hands clasp around my neck; the squeeze; the sigh; the wonderful smell of you.
The gentle weight of your head on my shoulder, the moment of quiet we share.
And then, the tickle brings your laughter, bright and free.
For now, in “lockdown”, I must live with these memories.
ZoomDoom
by Carolyn Brookes
It’s Fo Fee Fi Fum
May it concern to whom.
I’m upside down and back to front
As soon as I press zoom.
A lolly once, or lots of space
While flying to the moon
It’s come to mean a locking-in to an airless WiFi womb.
I long to ogle legs and feet
Start out upbeat, retreat, delete.
I hate to see my trunkless head,
So much on view to be misread.
One up two down, my tiny box,
T’would even piss off Goldilocks.
An elbow nudge at cuckoo pace
I’d steal my neighbour’s body space.
Your square lights up, You’re on! SHOWTIME.
A pause, a freeze, it’s PANTOTIME!
So if you all will beg my pardon
I’ll catch you up in an outdoor garden.
Come here, meet up, let’s drink
champagne
But let’s make sure it doesn’t rain!
