Oh COVID, oh COVID, oh COVID-Nineteen
Last year in Wuhan, you emerged on the scene
Your entrance was brutal, your path so direct
Not caring how many nor whom you infect.

So while we all quarantine, let us discuss
What this terrible crisis tells us about us.

On the one hand, we've all seen, with horror and shame
People pointing their fingers and trying to blame
The media, China, conspiracies, science
Endangering others through reckless defiance.

On the other hand, good people step in harm's way
Giving care and compassion and support every day
By inspiring us all and by doing their part
Using their head and opening their heart

So when it's all over, what will be the effect?
Will kindness take hold or compassion be wrecked?
Will reason prevail or will selfishness matter?
I hold hope of the former, but I fear for the latter.

Welcome to the Timeless Zone,
Vast as space and timeless as infinity.
A surreal dimension
Located somewhere between
A normal New Year 2020
And the imagined end
Of the Coronavirus Lockdown.

A dimension of sight, sound and mind
Taking us from the pit of superstition and fear,
To the sunlight of scientific knowledge.

The days pass endlessly
As we look for something to do
Again and again.
No meetings to go to,
Our year-planners and diaries
Consigned to being buried in dust.

Here we sit
In twilight:
Idly watching TV
Or catching up on household chores.
We take a daily walk
Even jog
And occasionally pop to the shops.

Shops that is, where you have to follow the arrows
Keep in your own little zone
Do Not Pass Go
Go straight to Jail –
I mean The Counter:
Once you have followed the maze
Of often empty shelves
Ransacked by Panic Buyers.

And at the counter you are served
By workers in gloves and plastic visors.
You must stay behind that line!

But mainly we sit like zombies,
Passing away the time.
At least the pressure is off:
Nowhere to go
Nothing to do.

But look!
A sign up ahead.
Maybe a crossing.
I hope it says
“The End”.

Paul Butters

© PB 19\4\2020. With due credit to “The Twilight Zone” TV series.

The morons of Michigan gathered to fight
and to protest the COVID lockdown;
To claim they're entitled, by God-given right
to do as they please in their town.

"You won't take my freedom", they rail and they shout.
"Don't care if I'm wrong or correct.
To Hell with the freedom of everyone else
that I claim every right to infect".

The strangest assortment of people turned out,
with Confederate flags and their guns;
Every anti-press, anti-vax, anti-brain lout;
Every fool and their daughters and sons.

Did their great orange leader entreat them to stop,
lest the crisis become far more dire?
Of course not! He praised them and riled them up
and heaped further fuel on the fire.

So take-up your pitchfork and pick-up a torch
and dress in your white robe and hood
and lay waste to truth and good sense as you scorch
all that used to be selfless and good.

We started to hear of a new virus in Wu-han, China, early this year.
Began in an open-air market, with a bat, they said,
It had the same name as a light Mexican beer.
While we were still travelling and teaching,
It became something serious to fear.
Deaths on the rise everywhere, and lockdowns began,
Into the brave new world of isolation we peer.

So we are cooped up at home, experiencing connection of a different kind,
Realizing even with all our technology we were not prepared,
And our plans for the future seem to unwind
As we are so uncertain now,
Our fates suddenly revealed as all intertwined.
Those who keep working help us see compassion,
As we wait for the vaccine the scientists are hoping to find.

Corruption in governments and leaders leer
Quarantine laws slow and inconsistent.
Calamity soon ensued, and conflicts that were already here
Continue to put the poorest of our world at the most risk.
There has to be a different way to steer
Our society onwards and afterwards...
What will be the story the new generation hears?

COVID-19  forces confrontation.
We must take a long hard look
At what else is communicable besides disease,
At our common fate, contingent on each other,
At capitalism, as it wavers and our stock markets crash.

The creation of more borders, the continuation of bitter divides will not do.
Can we grasp hold of our commonalities, see clearly how human we all are,
Capable of contracting the same deadly pathogen?

This pandemic can be a call.
For a more compassionate and cooperative world,
For living together more carefully,
To refuse to stand for cruelty and wanton consumption.
Perhaps this will harken the paving of a new path,
the creation of a new code,
So we can take better care of our little blue marble in the sky.

day zero
the in between—
when it hasn’t quite sunk in
yet you stand at the edge of an awakening
you wish you never had
through blaring thoughts and bleak musings
i say
it’s but a dream
only, it’s not

day zero
the nostalgia of what once was
and has been
yet can never again be
ultimately, it’s not the fear of where i am
but that of uncertainty
that of where i’m supposed to be

day zero
denial in every corner of my mind
with no way of picking the truth apart from lies
those told by leaders, those told by us
“it will all be over soon”
times are turbulent
but that on which my hope is anchored
is not

day zero
i am tired
tired of anticipating what inevitably is to come
when i say im tired,
i mean
i'm exhausted
of the way things are handled and the
direction things have gone
why
that at such a time
all that's been done is less good
more harm
but trust that there’s always
a ray of sunshine
a silver lining
behind the clouds—
that at such a time
let it shine

day zero
the clock strikes one
one, two, three
then a couple thousand
the clock strikes two,
two, three, four
no one goes out the door
the clock strikes three,
three, four, five
terminate those who fight
the clock strikes four,
four, five, six
it has come to this

day one—
it is here.

Piecemeal, a Coronavirus poem
by Michael R. Burch

And so it begins—the ending.
The narrowing veins, the soft tissues rending.
Your final solution is pending.
(A pale Piggy-Wiggy
will discount your death as no biggie.)

Keywords/Tags: coronavirus, plague, Trump, final, solution, stat, statistic, number, ratings, reelection

Dark clouds, bright moon
The sky painted with ashes
Twinkling specks of white
Another night gashes

On the devoid streets,
remain untouched puddles,
No child to jump in them!
Empty corners, empty benches
No child to blow bubbles

Only the stray cats meow
Puzzled and surprised
No sellers, no gamblers, no families
Why's everyone inside?

So mighty is this unseen enemy
Wearing Harry's invisible cloak
No feet, no gun, no sword
yet it kills nearly every folk

It gracefully ballets with loneliness
The streets are now his
This place once used to be
A stage for the poor kids

This place was once
Something else
It was a place, where
Merriness never blunts

Mornings, bakers delivering eggs
And folks running to jobs
Ladies catwalk, holding baskets
whilst children enjoyed corns on the cob

The singers sung songs
By the deep wells
And in the green lawns
The old ones, planted bluebells

This place once echoed giggles
The children played "ringa ring o roses"
And the sun too admired
their pockets full of poses!

you can only have one
box of eggs she said
but we have to make omelettes
for five
well you just can't have them
she reiterated
now cashiers are making
culinary decisions in my household

Sitting in my house,
Stuck inside, can't play outside
Trapped by a virus
But in the midst, I see Mom
And remember why were fine