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Anais Vionet Jul 2020
arrgh!. Zoom didn’t connect? - more tech issues
USPS can’t deliver any more - Trump's America!
I wasn’t dragged & dropped - is wireless down?
no Facebook notifications? - ok, who uses that
My image wasn’t swiped! - I knew my hair was..
My email was returned? - call that Alphabet guy
No Amazon deliveries. - a probable traffic issue
FedEx hasn’t arrived! - there must be a mistake
I didn’t get pinned? - maybe there’s a pandemic
I wasn’t upvoted. - I question the entire process
No iMessages - maybe the upgrade was buggy
No likes? - is it me or am I seeing patterns here
a pattern poem about connections
MSunspoken Jul 2020
A tip of my hat
To the cumulus that looms
A prowling lion in the clouds
Signifies my doom

Now amidst the fog
All six senses ***** the air
Something must be lurking
-I reason a cat, but fear a bear

I cast aside my shadow
A cloak I once hand stitched
-My reason clatters to the ground
Patience snubbed into abyss

I curse my aching feet
Starting to lose their ground
-Yet not a bench within a mile
And not a soul to be found

My feet berate the dirt
Blindly running until I’m lost
I sit within the rain    
My mind jumbled in a knot

But then a second look
I see a peek of sky
Tonight the stars were silent
And now I see them shine
This was the poem I used for an ongoing contest. It was hard because I haven't felt motivated to write- but you won't see"the stars"shine unless you look up.
Piyush Gahlot Jul 2020
Need no *****, need no drug,
what I need is just a hug.

Boring routine, unexciting WFHs,
Sitting all day on computer,
just gaining weight and cursing China,
puzzled head coding and solving bug,
what l need is just a hug.

Missing the taste of Biryanis,
all those extra cheese pizzas,
above all that exotic street food and chai,
Even a simple bottle of beer.
**** this Virus is a real ****.
Need no fast food, need no *****,
Still, what I need is just a hug.

I need you close,
I need you here,
just beside me near,
spread your arms, cover me like a shrug,
I just need the warmth of your hug.
Savio Fonseca Jun 2020
This Evening I've started,
a bit early and I'm just,
one drink away.
From telling
The ****** Virus,
how bad a SOB it is.
Anais Vionet Jun 2020
I've passed the disenchanted one, in the empty hallway
I've heard the isolated girl, arguing in the mirror
I've seen the angry hermit girl reflected in the toaster
I've noticed the crazy girl, crying in the shower
I've enjoyed the whispers of the poet talking to herself
Her latest performance had the largest audience yet
the flowers were captivated but the cat left unimpressed
a short, corona virus' eternal boredom free verse poem
K E Cummins Jun 2020
The day the apocalypse ends
The women will have risen
Sweet potatoes from loam, tilled earth
Survival of the species, life and birth
Do not depend on guns, nor blood
But an unfurled sapling

When the children return to school
And the nurses display their strength
We realise the essentials
Our grandparents, our babies
Do not depend on algorithms, nor capital

A hand-sewn mask made for comfort
To defy the White Horseman
Means the women will have risen
The day the apocalypse ends
Anais Vionet Jun 2020
I've passed the disenchanted one, in the empty hallway
I've heard the isolated girl, arguing in the mirror
I've seen the angry hermit girl reflected in the toaster
I've noticed the crazy girl, crying in the shower
I've enjoyed the whispers of the poet talking to herself
Her latest performance had the largest audience yet
the flowers were captivated but the cat left unimpressed
A poem about the corona virus and isolation, boredom, and poetry and a cat
Anais Vionet Jun 2020
my life is full of learning, but I want more than learning.
I want more than silly things, but I want silly things.
I want more than this - viral incompleteness - with its worsening unease.
I want more than forever being enslaved to safe hospitality like astronauts in space.
We control heat with air conditioning - gravity with jets and communicate via satellites.
There’s nothing I can really do but trust in science, and patiently hope.
My wants may shine valuable, like silver, but they are, in reality, worthless tin.
a corona virus isolation poem
Anais Vionet Jun 2020
Trapped like Napoleon on Elba, cursing himself 300 straight nights.
There's no escape from MY desolate coast so I longingly wait nights.
The moon comes and goes on restless, disenchanted, chaste nights.
Will I be an old maid before the next dear and playful date night?
corona virus isolation poem
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