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A COVID-19 POEM
Tale of a Pandemic
We’ll remember 2020, when catastrophes caught us out,
Drought, fire, then a virus, “what’s next?” has been the shout.
We’ve heard the startling news, a Pandemic has moved in,
We find ourselves in lockdown and Victoria is looking grim.
Must wash our hands; wear a mask and social distance as well,
With daily news of sudden deaths, it’s a frightening tale we tell.
I’ve hunkered down, used my time, caught up on many a task,
Haven’t made any Sourdough bread, that was too much to ask.
Life may change from before, when finally we open our door,
Will we live more cautiously, wondering what’s next in store?
But Aussies are a resilient lot, us seniors can lead the way,
Every night the sun goes down, we wait for the promised day.
And if you live until eighty-two, I read in the paper one day,
There’ll be 30,000 sunsets, “worth working towards”, I’d say.
It’s time the Pandemic moved on, we’ve learned a lesson or two,
Now we realize what’s important, there’s so much living to do.
Lyn Austin
CANNOT STOP
Covid 19 may have put a stop to our usual activities but it cannot halt the arrival of spring. The brilliant yellow of wattle and canola, and the orchards covered in white and delicate pink blossoms all herald the arrival of spring. Daffodils and their bulb cousins are dancing in the breeze. With flowers everywhere and change of season hay fever arrives. Will it this year? Maybe the face masks will put a halt to that as well. Sufferers can only hope.
Bees are buzzing everywhere and I was entertained by a pair of wrens in our garden. She was playing hard to get and he was trying hard to impress. Isn’t it wonderful how we can find enjoyment in the simple things that do not change? The sun rises each morning and provides beautiful sun sets each evening. The moon waxes and wanes every month. So please take a moment to enjoy the simple everyday happenings around you that Covid cannot change.
Heather Higgins
Pandemic
The new word is Pandemic.
It didn`t mean much at first.
Corona virus or Covid-19
Trump said `The flu at worst.’
But Dan was a little more anxious
and because I was 73
it was ‘ Isolation old lady.’
Staying at home was for me.
I hear the language changing.
Isolation is a new word.
There is lockdown and suppression.
But we are not going with the herd.
So the shops are closed
and our friends all stay home
and if nobody sees me
I don`t need a comb.
No coffee. No hair dressers.
No restaurants. No dates.
But I`ll embrace the curfew,
stay home and just wait.
It has a lot to answer for;
this Covid-19.
As my chin sprouts a grey beard
that should never be seen.
Thank heavens for masks.
Lynne Hume
Thought for the day
Covid, Covid you’re a star,
You’re the worst we’ve had by far
How I wonder why you are,
You have made the biggest mess
We do want you less and less
Please do go away, away!
And never come back another day.
Covid, Covid you’re a bar
To us doing things, even by car.
Go back to the bats
And leave us alone
Or we’ll get angry and moan and moan.
Covid, Covid may you cease,
‘cause we do need a long release
from your annoying great big hold
so we can go back to being happy and bold!
Selina Quilty
`UNMENTIONABLE DISEASE HITS SENIORS’
They speak of their heart ops. and cancer
Arthritis, replacement of bones
But the problem that nobody mentions
Is the drip on the end of the nose.
Your thyroid is all out of kilter
The liver is taking a doze
But these setbacks really are nothing
To the drip on the end of your nose.
You’ve battled through childbirth and toothache,
Gall bladder and stiff hammer toes,
Now Covid 19 has come on the scene
To add to your bodily woes.
You’re standing in line at the checkout
With credit card ready to show
When silently down it comes sneaking
The drip on the end of your nose.
You comb through your pockets and handbag
For hankies or tissues to blow
But there’s never one there when you want to take care
Of the drip on the end of your nose.
It isn’t hay fever or asthma
Pneumonia or lurgies unknown
So nose drops and puffers are useless against
The drip on the end of your nose.
You listen to doctor’s diagnosis
`It’s dilation, constriction I know
And I tell you there’s not yet a cure for
That drip on the end of your nose.’
I know when I leave this world’s troubles
And look for my well-earned repose
When I rattle those gates, Saint Pete will say `WAIT!
There’s a drip on the end of that NOSE.’
Pamela Wells May 2020
A BIT FORGETFUL THESE DAYS.
I remember that I needed “that
I don’t remember why,
I don’t remember what “that” was
No matter how I try.
I’ll go back where I was before
That’s sure to jog my brain.
I’ll turn around, go through the door
Into that room again.
Sometimes that works, it did last week,
And surely will today.
Stand quietly and do not speak
And see if that’s the way.
Gently let the thoughts rewind
Till what “that”was comes back,
See what pops into my mind
To put things back on track.
The dropped stitch in my memory
Just knitted back somehow,
Fog lifted, so at last I see
And I remember now.
I’m due to go to physio,
I need to check the date.
Should also check the time as well,
Don’t want to turn up late.
I know I’m not the only one
That sometimes ends up muddled,
I hope that as the years roll on
I don’t end up befuddled.
Meredith Arnold