Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
death terrorizes the world
suffering strikes fear
far and wide
individuals attempt to restore
while questionable governments limit
people lay in captivity
the walls growing bigger
closer
the reality of death
suffering
all becomes too much to handle
a hero
a nurse
a loved one
welcomes comfort and restores

once we are through
conquerers
escaping the thick autumn-winter bush
spring will be on the horizon
death behind us
giving way to life ahead of us
death behind us
a defeated Covid-19
kainat rasheed May 2020
It was February 2020,
Exam season,
Six o'clock in the evening,
So the news spread,
"In the country's largest city,
Two Corona patients tested positive"
Life was in its own wave,
I asked for a small prayer,
"Just don't want to give any exam tomorrow"
A five day holiday was announced on T.V,
i was fully  happy,
about that,
I will not have to get up and go to school next day,
i slept  all the  day,
and,
posting memes on Facebook,
Uploading status on Instagram,
then,
It was the last day of the holiday,
I was afraid that now there will be exam ,
But then  ,
an announcement came " a month holiday "
The number of patients kept on increasing day by day,
First two, then twelve, then three hundred, and then a thousand,
then after someday,
Home and me,
These four walls,
myself and old memories,
good mornings were turning to fearing days,
because the lock down happened ,
the markets closed ,the parks closed ,
the malls closed ,the banks closed
the  court close ,the business closed
traveling band  
It just took a month,
I saw a  whole new  life,
When the police had tears in their eyes,
Standing across the praying area, he said with folded hands
and said ,
for God sake ,
Stay away from here and protect yourself and your family,
The guards patrolled at night,
i will never forget the horn of the police car,
But the country's poor have lost their livelihood,
their children went to bed hungry,
The laborer did not receive his earnings,
I saw anguish in some eyes,
I saw this long line of beggars,
Who only had to live up to the morning,
I saw a doctor in the hospital,
And those in uniform on the streets,
No one wants their loved ones to leave them alone,
I saw those who gave their lives,
I saw those who saves others lives,
Everyone had to save the country,
I saw the plague was same for both the king and the slave,
I saw years in a year,
I saw helplessness,
I slept myself all the days ,
My country's markets are closed,
The roar of my streets is gone,
some dreams should  remain dreams,
Some desires force us to put masks on our faces,
Some mistakes leads to  distances,
Today is May, I have only one wish,
I want to spend the day at the roadside,
and Let me put heat of  sun in my eyes,
I want to look at it until its rays dissolve in my tears,
I want to tore this year's page from the book of life,
and someday,
i wish ,
announcement on TV will come that "we have got rid of this epidemic covid19".
ADMIT IT!
I screamed at my reflection.
YOU'VE BEEN DEAD SINCE THAT DAY
I yelled at the tear stained face.
When he left you died.
The distraction that was keeping you happy,
left.
You have nothing.
Now you're so empty.
So numb that it hurts,
just admit it.
Francie Lynch May 2020
Who dares enjoy your gold with you?
What good is it Midas? It's contaminated.
When will you, if ever, enjoy it again?
Where is your preferred seating now?
Why persist with your follies? Don't touch me.
There are no shows, theaters, arenas, ports of call, restaurants, flights, etc., where the rich can spend their gold. And anyone who makes a profit out of our misery, may they have the Midas Touch.
Tamara Lynn May 2020
With the state of the world right now, the only thing that we’re sure of, is that we’re not.
I hope you all are staying safe and well during these uncertain times 🖤 We may not have much certainty in the world in 2020, and nothing is guaranteed, but the power of human love and connection makes it all so worth it.
Zhavaed Haemaed May 2020
The Price of Sanctity

Hazy.. blind, I can't see a thing,
Sweat; an ocean__and I drown.
Trickling, feel rivers down my spine
Scorched, an all too normal tryst.
Elements, lost; wasted in the heat,
An itch; how quitely it goes ignored.
This headache. **** this headache
Someone get me a salve.
2 hours !
Twice has the clock ran by,
5 more, er..
But, can I last any long ?
Water ! No water ! No fluid
Traverses in to / without _
Hell ? No, it is dead men walking.
Heaven ? Has there ever any been?
Natural, welcome to the new order.
Living, shall never be any the same.
Working in a CoViD 19 ward. Inside the PPE. These thoughts came to mind as I jotted them down.
Ashwin Kumar May 2020
Forty five dark days
Forty five desolate days
Forty five depressing days
With every passing hour
I go from depressed to hopeful
From hopeful to furious
And back to depressed
The vicious circle goes on and on
With no end in sight

Forty five dark days
Forty five desolate days
Forty five depressing days
As the first lockdown is extended
The sense of despair grows stronger
My temper grows shorter
My insecurities, buried till then
In the dark recesses of my mind
Suddenly rise like a tsunami
And flood my brain and heart
Leaving a massive trail of dead cells in their wake

Forty five dark days
Forty five desolate days
Forty five depressing days
As the second lockdown is extended
I become increasingly on edge
Every little frustration comes to the fore
Whether it be the delayed salaries
Or being cooped up in a small house
With five family members
And thus having to endure the sheer cacophony
Of the Mahabharat and Ramayan
Blaring on the TV every day
Or simply the torrid climate of Chennai

Forty five dark days
Forty five desolate days
Forty five depressing days
How long will this go on?
I have been patient till now
But at some stage, I am bound to snap
And then you will find
That when the going gets tough
The tough get going
However, I get dangerous
So, think carefully, dear Prime Minister
Before you announce another nationwide lockdown
Unless you want to land yourself in quarantine
My 3rd lockdown poem!!
Don Bouchard May 2020
Who is he,
The man in the sweaty tee-shirt,
Standing in the center
While cars **** round
The roundabout?

He holds a digging tool,
Remains of weeds clinging.
He waves at a city parks truck
Rounding on its way
To the main building.

I know him.
We taught together once.
His doctorate in ministry:
Servant lives and how to lead them;
Mine in words and letters,
And how to read them.

I wonder as I drive away:
The tenuous lives we lead;
No predicting whether next year
I'll be learning with students
Or pulling weeds on a highway.

Vicissitudes of Life...
Next page