Month: March 2020
Thankyou to The Rye Whiskey Review for featuring my poem “Wait For”.
I am bored, you are bored, all aboard…
The second most contagious thing in the world right now, after the new coronavirus, is the insight that ‘social distancing’, previously known as ‘staying at home’ and ‘stay the fxxx away from me, you creep’, may actually help to decelerate the spread of the virus by reducing the number of new cases and thus helping to prevent our health services from collapsing altogether.
We have the world at our fingertips, enabling us to communicate for (almost) free and in real time. We live in a world in which the convenience of food and goods delivery has begun to replace the hassle of actually going to a shop (not for me, though: I’m a dinosaur, thank you very much). The internet provides us with almost unlimited resources to receive and broadcast forms of entertainment and distraction, from the silly to the useful to the unbearably serious.
Yet, remarkably, we talk about…
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Latter-Day Heroes, a poem . . . and your next Wednesday Writing Prompt
Jamie Dedes' THE POET BY DAY Webzine
standard intensive care unit (ICU) within a hospital courtesy of
“The coronavirus pandemic is a world-changing event, like 9/11. There was a world before Covid-19. And there will be a world after Covid-19. But it won’t be the same.” What Fox News Doesn’t Want You To Know
They’re heroes, you know, real heroes
Not the ones in capes and caps, No!
The ones in scrubs, masks, nursing clogs
Daily on extended shifts, exhausted
As fate would have it, often succumbing
And when not, still the concerns for
Possible transmission to family, to friends
To strangers along their commute, and
“I worry for my parents,” says one
On his steadfast mission, another
Fears for her unborn child, six months
pregnant, with rounded tummy she works
For her patients, for colleagues, for the
Greater good, while a president sets
A precedent for…
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Antjie Krog
(for my mother, sister, brother, and father)
Air. Heir can’t be cured –
I’m bee farmer caught stealing.
Hospitality.
Swallows flit in the air –
Only the houndish-rain can cure me.
The don’t know regret.
The nature of green –
They don’t know the dishes are-waiting.
You keep telling me.
Hours pass in nothings –
Or home. Or harm. Only song.
The other side telling.
I said that just now –
My sister cut her hair. Narrative-repeated.
Looking through a lens.
I can’t leave the house –
Because I’m afraid that people are laughing (at me).
Branches reach for me.
I dream of healing –
But it’s just a mapped out taproot.
I saw a wo/man.
Called tongue slippage –
Blue night is coming for me.
Yonder it is dark.
Hoping for applause –
Wild seabirds don’t hope for that.
For sonnets, marriage.
My room with a view –
It’s…
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Plague and Pestilence
barb drummond curious historian
With the outbreak of Covid, many people are drawing parallels between it and the Black Death, and it is worth looking at some relevant echoes, but there are significant differences.
From about 800-1200 was the Medieval warm period, which allowed Europe’s population, agriculture and settlements to expand and thrive. The Norse went fishing further afield and settled in Iceland and fish off North America. They also raided Britain, and water levels rose so Norwich and Bristol, now far inland, became major ports.
Trade flourished but in 1302, a rebellion in Flanders saw most of France’s knights drowned due to incessant downpours. In 1315 saw Europe beset with almost constant rains from Ireland to Germany and Scandinavia, washing away fields that had been reclaimed from forests to feed their growing populations. In northern England thousands of acres of reclaimed farmland became barren and rocky. What little grain was harvested could not…
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For Mother’s Day
Photo by Acharaporn Kamornboonyarush on Pexels.com
Mexico, 2014
Wendy Pratt
It is like saying goodbye again.
This is the longest I’ve been away from her
since she was delivered like a hot brick
into my husband’s arms.
We are flying from four years
of investigating her death. I think
even the turquoise of the Caribbean
can’t bring me back from the tiredness.
But I calm to the white sand, the tiny shells, so similar,
so different to the ones on Filey bay. I watch
the diamond shadow of a sting ray, gliding gently in its world.
I climb the hot stone ruins of Tulum,
wade the warm sea, swim in cenote,
drink margaritas on the beach.
I make an offering to the Mayan Gods; have her name set
in Mayan silver, hieroglyphics on a piece of black stone,
and I wear it round my neck, watch it glitter as I swim in the perfect blue,
feeling guilty I can’t…
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.day 9.
..light aircraft..
did i tell you a small plane flies over each day?
sometimes higher that the day before
i watch it
we all used to watch it
now
i watch it
so i fixed the phone
and found the message
and the past caught up with me
the circle turned again
i should feel a thing within
i do not
i stand and watch the plane
(really, oh really)

.day 8.
glad to hear the snow is melting there
and that you are getting out and about
all our resaurants and pubs have closed
and no more swimming for the family
a while
despite the chlorine
he will swim the rivers and the sea
he is bolder than me
it is colder for me
we moved forward yesterday
with a few steps backwards
things broke, things were mended
cleaned and tidied
we talked over the fence, the first
in reality this week
they looked older, both had sticks
and offered supplies if necessary
two dogs
grey whippet twelve years old
and a black mixed scruffy
i watched them walk on and went
back into the studio quietly
sat a while
the others went out in their cars
and i hope they had good reason
surprised at the number of days achieved
hope you will manage ok with things and stuff
(…
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