Poetry

Showing posts with label pandemic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pandemic. Show all posts

Monday 21 February 2022

2020 visions

 in twenty twenty

I wish'd seen what twenty twenty two would have been

But if I saw or if I'd seen

I'd have had to have had a time machine

For nothing's lost and nothing's gained

But what we remember in our brains

And vision of a future scene

Is not worth as much as having been

And lived the life that could have been or should have been


Somethings are given and some forgiven

Some are taken and some forsaken

And if you make or try to shake them

In the kaleidoscope of dreams

Well shadows awaken in shallow streams

And darkness creeps into forgettable seams

You thought you'd papered over 

And glued shut the cracks

But being human means there are things man lacks

And woman too is not perfect

Only she needs to be reminded 

While showing sufficient respect

Monday 5 October 2020

What in the world?

 The berries are bobbing on the rowan tree

The corn is cobbing, in the sweet acre breeze

And I am jobbing like a busy bee

But the parishioners all hold their tissues and sneeze


Oh what, what are we coming to?

What in the world is it coming to?

The flames are fanned, and the Earth's down the pan

And another horse passes on a Japanese fan


There's a statue that's a fallin'

A Greek vase is appallin'

Hiding from Apollo's gaze

Who wanders through the fallow glades

Thinking of him and looking for you

Oh what in the world are we coming to?


And the jumbo in the air is stallin'

In the sirens with long hair are callin'

Take me once, they say, take my cue

What in the world are we coming to?


I hold my breath and count to ten

But I'm afraid to open my mouth again

And if I see pigsties or sheep pens

I close my eyes and count my hens

The farm yard is all accounted true

Yet what in the world is it coming to?


And we all look lost in a maze

The shallow sharks, swim in the misty haze

And jellyfish sting, on the holidays

We all forgot were once sacred


It makes you think it's the end of days

With famine and pestilence and malaise

And summer time screams its short serenades

As the musicians all pack up their parades


What in the world are we coming to?

What in the world is it coming to?

When you hold out your hands

Then bring them together in praise

Some people leave you, and it's the pain that stays