Dedicated to the courageous acts of the Hellenic Health Care Personnel (Emergency EKAB, Hospital and Lab; Public Health and management), the nurses with their comforting words to patients and the families who have lost loved ones in the battle with COVID as well as to the necessary help of those who deliver, work in supermarkets and banks to keep the world turning.
COVID’s Easter Darts
Endings, turnings-yearnings and new starts
Beware of Cupid’s art, as we avoid sharp COVID’s darts
One you’ll survive! The other? Mean, agony and perhaps demise Maybe a long shot, perhaps remote, don’t let it’s darts even come close
For if it gets a nip its bulldog hold won’t let you go
Take care; for both can take the breath away, surprise by night, surprised by day
Love’s not time’s fool and can be overcome, by time or by another love But after COVID’s rampage time runs out Lay low, stay put at home, and protect the loved ones that you know. On this our 30th day but not to heaven’s gate, The world and we have far too much upon our sorry plate But the unlocked down world was not a perfect state, no state a perfect place For bugs have thrived, surveillance is applied and now Certainly, high tumultuous tide and still the devil dives One breath ago, an eternity gone by, we escaped the rains and raucous winds of a typhoon Escaped as well, earth spewed hot volcanic ash But now, right now, locked down, remote, not smote thank heavens Following rules, attending Cyber School and even sometimes playing cool. We knew not then of COVID’s quantum leap from animal to man Not knowing that that jump would hold us down. And now the devil drives as life goes on surrounded by demise Tomorrow will be day 31st close enough to Golgotha’s first. Mostly uphill now to go, 12 stations of the cross mostly uphill. Below and from the sadness of a forlorn bell we hear the sadness of the world A world that walked in beauty through the seasons till its fall Apple blossom time will come around, another eternity to pass, olives falling to the grass, Lilacs will be gathered in the spring, when some go home again. A splash of red I see above, some poppy bed in radiant bloom While buttercups their golden cups reach up towards the warming sun, upon the hill. Golgotha and Lycavitos.
What About a Beer?
Oh for a drink of Niksic beer, not shunning cold Corona light
Not saying no to Belge or to Anglo-Saxon draft, a Fix would do and then a Mythos, perhaps two
I read again the author of Lolita fame, of numbered years, our train of heartbeats too
Each one of us above the abyss hang, strung somewhere between poles of birth and death
While somewhere on that route today, brides stand meters from the groom
And as our cradle rocks, the Coronavirus strikes randomly and at every milestone all along that route
Day and night, knocks down like flies, our fellow men as numbers rise
With rapid rates of change in Italy and Spain, the matrix spread of data, pain for all of us to read
While I sing a song of sixpence my glass empty and of rye then change my tune again
To life has just two doors, we enter and we leave.
Why did I laugh out loud when told to move abruptly left, to put into the oven, buns to bake
A baker’s dozen 13, one just for luck, while waiting for Godot
To halt the pest, stop the devil’s drive and put a lid on all of this.
That will be the time to say cheers or turn down an empty glass.
While in Lock Down
While bogged, locked, or anchored down, act sometimes crazy to get through
At home a zoo, too much of Trump and news of Coronavirus too
Bombarded on all sides, nowhere to go, not knowing what not, not, to do
So laugh aloud, smile awhile but deep inside, no groom, do not tickle your patient bride.
Go nowhere, but if you do, make sure to wear an anti-COVID cloak.
For kids it’s sometimes so much fun, at other times it is just a bum.
For mothers it’s more trying when locked down, there are laughs, cries, sighs and many whys?
For some it may mean just one sad and last goodbye.
There’s learning through the INTERNET, the chaos, curse and curser, the bits that got away
Upset and aggravation; panic some and a little hysteria too.
Much imagination and lessons from the past of frogs and snails and puppy dogs tails
The maligned bat that keeps a check on insect pests and munches on mosquitoes too.
Some days unfold beset with great surprise, seeing Alma chase a would be fly
And as the hours go by, the chase went on persistent like a coronavirus bug
Bark, bark and bark, then bark again with squeals and shouts and laughs and squeals again.
Then Alma settles down one bark away from our melt down.
Thank god we didn’t fall apart though we’re in for the longue durée
A quiet weekend, just one upset and one disturbing night.
Dreaming of Jeannie with the light brown hair brings happiness in sleep
But for the rest, no rest by night and its polly wolly doodle all the day
Far from fuss and many things to do, a jigsaw, piece by piece, just for release, some time of peace
Read a book, write a poem, paint a flower, and draw a crown, we will revive, we will survive.
Some know not of this thing called SARS, have never seen mean leaches in a jar
Telling them, they’ll say, they came from a lab on Mars,
Then tell you that they saw some last in a dark lit lowly Eastern bar
And now the fair maid stands far from the groom, untouched, yearning, breath of youth
The pub shut down, beer, tea and coffee taken all alone, except in early mornings and at home
As cold horrendous statistics do enfold, tears now removed from graphs
But stories horrifying as they are told
The groom though standing proud yet cannot kiss his bride
Still coffee tastes so good, its aroma cannot hide.
Then I look into the grounds in search of comfort there.
Fashion shows, videos and Babes in Swaddling Clothes
A fashion show without my Sunday best
Corono coloured threadbare just as swell, suited for goddammits and this pandemic’s hell.
I must with pride announce an interview done well, questions posed by my grandson,
On music, which warmed us like a sun. In fact Musik, Eine Kleine Nacht, the Moonlight Sonata too,
With golden apples, oven-baked to taste and apples silvered by the moon, upon a moon splashed hill. Church bells gently peeling telling us of time, chiming that the silent devil is no joke!
If it hits, it will be worse than an uppercut from Ali
It can huddle close to puddles can be trapped in a bubble, should it burst its trouble in the chest.
So while locked down let’s extend one joyous cry for each new born child
In hope both he and she, will reach the furthest reaches of their days
Let’s hold back our demise and hang around awhile, in health
Follow measures, admonitions of the wise
Let’s lift the gloom so that brides can kiss their groom
Stay put and hang around in doors
And in the new found ways of time, with miles and more to go before comes sleep
Let’s not forget the promises we still must keep.
Should you thirst for laughs tune in each day to the rambling white horse show
Tom Jef, Ben Frank lend me your gray mare, all along, out a long, down along lee
For I want to go to Judge Bill’s Bar, make Iran better by far and keep America out of war
Vote for me Trump and I’ll keep you and America safe forevermore.
You’ll have your guns and if you are shot I’ll spare you a ventilator to pull you through
I’m triumphant Trump when I give my prime time briefing
But the best of all is for you to call on Ol’ King Cole and his fiddling Pipers three
Turn all ears to the merry old soul, the merriest old soul that’s known
He will let you know he’ll come back and take his pipe and his super bowl
But most of all he’ll want his fiddle to fiddle and play with his fiddling Pipers three
With Trump in the middle, but not second fiddle, in the middle of a riddle
So you must invite, say don’t forget, do not upset old Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and them all
And Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and all.
King Cole, Old King Cole lend me your fine fiddle and I’ll make things fair once again
We’ll make a trip to Widicomb Fair with Uncle Tom Cobbleigh and all
With Uncle Tom Cobbleign and all.
Widicomb Fair will masks on it stalls, ice in its tea and bellows for free
I’m the only one who them can install on a market stall, down town Beijingn and in all of Kingdom Come
Don’t forget how tall is my tower, how far my ball goes,
My valley has more bytes than you’ll ever know and when the DONALD says all
He means all, as all know
For by Fall, a ventilator in every cot, a mask tomorrow for the old damn lot
A Growth Hormone chicken in every pot and COVID down for the count.
Vote Trump for bas-class-relief and make America loud and not proud.
When I huff and I puff the market up goes and when I get grousy, Fauci stays on his toes.
I don’t care how green was your valley, how white was the snow
Can we sell it at a high profit, is it good real estate? As for the snow who wants to know.
Unless we can ship it to Alaska as up there its ice doth thaw
Don’t tell me the climate’s changed, it ever was so, mention the nuclear threat
Makes me so f…upset, for Bush had more warheads, than I’ll ever get.
Says Ol’ King Cole on the White House Lawn to a man in a golfing cap
I think you’re fiddling with a very fine fiddle, which I ask you now to stop
Says Donald Trump, leave me be
This superior fiddle, I fiddle and fiddle to make white America free,
To save lives and save the world, by ridding of the Wuhnan WHO.
For I am cross-pis…off with Dr Tedros and he is lucky not to have me as his boss
Then making a turn to his Security, he says to big shoulders hovering there
Check old Colely out for he’s on the fiddle and he may be an illegal too.
But Ol’ King Cole don’t leave him alone until he knows whose WHO
For I am a King and though very old, must always be told who’s WHO in the CDC.
I’ve got me a fiddle to fiddle and fiddle while my COVID Pence sits on the Southern Fence
I’ll twit and I’ll tweet, tweedle and dee until America is first and truly free
I’ll fiddle and diddle, I’ll twit and twaddle to make America great once again.
So Old Colely Cole your contraband fiddle is all mine now you should know,
But I’ll give you a chance to be the greatest of Kings if you will come, fiddle with Pency and me
You should know I’m a friend of the Saudi king and I brokered a deal, it was Putin and me
We’ll get us a barrel of money, a life with more honey and money
Don’t listen to Barack, oh no, no, no, don’t join Joe Joe Joe
Hear or shake hands with Pelosi and I urge you to let old Bernie be be
If you encourage him your snow will melt in red rhetoric and he’ll give your valley away
I’ll riddle and riddle, we’ll fiddle and fiddle until the world knows and learns
That Obama care isn’t what its touted to be and that there’s none so rare, none can compare,
To the Donald Trump and the me.
Come Cole in the mourn to the White House lawn make that early, in the dawn’s early light
I’ll chase me some experts around, I’ll be top fiddle with a hay and a diddle
With Tony in the middle we’ll go eny,eny, meeny, mi and many moes
Catch an expert by his tongue tied toes
Then Ding Dong Bell, putsy expert in the well, well well.
Then old King Cole Steps up to Donald the Bold and scowls at his toadying toads
You sir, Iv’e asked, that you not fiddle with my very fine fiddle as you hold it upside down
You are making a noise and wilting the rose and flowers in the Rose Garden
While the rays of light don’t make your music bright
So take my advice let your riddles roam, send all experts home and go it alone.
Its beautiful, we’re moving on and doing a great job, Mel put the kettle on and we’ll all have raki.
The Mighty Mites
No Pope, nor politician, president or king can hold the ill-tide of Coronavirus back
Neither the mighty Bills nor Obamacare, can make a dent on global despair
Can handle all that’s floating now unseen and in the air
Whipped by the wind, blown on a zephyr
Airbourne from sneeze and wheeze, carried on a breeze until it settles down
On crosses it can sit, on icons too, on door handles, plastic bags, elsewhere and everywhere
It huddles in puddles, it is found in cupboards even in old Mother Hubbard’s
Lurks on boats, Aircraft Carrier carried and found on all nuclear subs,
Says the military man do not even fret the Nuke’s are ready to go.
If our Leader in Chief can’t stop COVID’s invasion by simple persuasion we’ll nuke it to smitherreens
The systems of wellbeing are now impaired
As one Bill gives to the Euro WHO
But we must make the best, gripped by ferocious jaws of a contentious beast
Locked down, the world awaits another Hercules.
Who with Herculean strength took off, all Hydras’ heads in the malignant malarial swamps
Not even Vladimir not Peter and the Great, can deal with COVID’s deadly weight
Not even the Donald or his friend Xing ping, can bring back flowers gone from Spring
And even as they wish to make the Stars and Stripes, the Dragon great again
Help can only come from old Kings more astute, old Cole and wise old King Canute.
Resilience from the Moors, old Meg who lived there then, homeless and out of doors
In her red worn cloak she read the many churchyard tombs as the dreaded cholera spread.
Where did it all come from?
As with the wind we have to know, where did it come from? Where does it go?
It spreads, it creeps, takes colossal leaps and rambles and tramples everywhere,
It goes down roads, enters abodes, picks up a plane, can be found on a bicycle made for two
While going global it remains quite local we can only guess where it first came from
From horses with the flu, chickens and with measles too
From hump back camels, pigs and birds and smallpox from the herd
From mad cow to foot and mouth disease, ticks and fleas, no busy bees
No birds and bees as brides do stand far from the groom.
What day is this, what time of day is it? Days and hours, all ours, to do with, what?
Stand still or walk around, eat, drink or think, about bats, cats and burrowing rats
Frogs, dogs and groveling hogs, Mules, pigs and dromedaries, slugs, bugs and bugs in rugs
Goats, sheep and all wild white geese, rabbit and hare running to their warren lairs.
No cold and barren lair is mine, as sunshine from upon the hill we hope
Keeps Corona’s chill away, while unlocked down church bells ring so sweetly in the ear
But how easy things get in my hair, when locked down in my perfect lair
I take on many roles, the crazy clown, a wise man with a frown
Resilient grandfather and a helping dad, pondering will marriage survive
Can I run the gauntlet of a teenage lad, far from crowds as brides stand further from the groom.
No Loose Couplings
Coupling is now decoupled, co-mingling’s done, do not comingle
Out there lurks a dreaded pest, a pest that works the ropes
Too often draws them tight, drags out the breath and causes fright
A devil, which does not slow down, no brake has he
But will run down, run out of steam and stop, when it stops.
Be patient; listen for the bells and think of better ways and days.
But know full well that these our days can be the very best of times
Know well that some bright holy light will come to light our way
But then again for some these may be the worst of days
But hope there is, we’ll meet again, don’t ask me when?
But find and keep that smile when as a bride you stood and touched the groom
Let’s lift the gloom so that brides can kiss their groom
Stay put and hang around in doors in health
And in some new found ways of time, with miles and miles to go before we resurrect our dreams
Let’s not forget the promises we have to keep, before comes sleep.
No Advice Necessary!
Aint nobody going to tell him nothing
As he trots the old gray mare on the White House lawn
Where he plans to ride, canter and banter til he can’t nomore
Sing say I’m your Mami, Swanny how I love you dear old Swanny how I love you
This land is my land, which I saved from the Chinese tiger just outside the door
While he breaks them down and builds them up
Come on and hear come on and hear can’t take you by the hand
Up to the man, unto the man who is the leader of the Band
To hear old Swanny played in Trump’s time on Donald’s prime time show
He’ll talk a million miles to get a media smile Swanny to make all things unclear again,
Unlocked down or locked down states, no state a perfect place
For bugs have thrived, surveillance is applied
High tides, the numbers rise and still more devils dive
For oil you may not have to pay and plutonium may be given away
Bogged, locked, or anchored down, act crazy to get through
But there is still too much of Trump and views and news of Coronavirus too
Not even Donald or Xing ping, Don’s royal friends and perfect gentlemen
Can bring back flowers gone from spring
But hope there is, we’ll meet again, don’t ask me when?
She’ll find and keep that smile when as a bride stood and touched the groom
While we stay put and hang around in doors in health
Forget them not, those promises still to keep.
My Prayer at the End of the Poem
Wear COVID out, Quarantine, keep them at bay
Wear COVID down, lockdown, contagion give way
Test, test for COVID and test til we know where the pest rests
COVID Mother of all Plagues it’s time for you to go away
Don’t wait until the swallows abandon rad soaked Fukashima, Fly home to high-cliffed Capistrano
Then I will say I’ll never read a poem as lovely as a Lilac tree
Let’s try to be good for we know that we should
My prayer at the end of a poem.
- Coronavirus Cases: 2,484,314;
- Deaths: 70,501;
- Recovered: 652,761.