4 years... Daily fears. why do I stay?
because tomorrow brings another day.
Strong to survive this nightmare
Though nothing about it's fair
counter each negative with a positive
I've always been a leader, now, submissive
ready to reemerge, rebuild, and reclaim
wasting this precious life would be a shame.

Lockdown
Honk down
Lockdown
Run down
Lockdown
Fun down
Lockdown
Not down

Shushed until now
Respecter of no status
Not even the blue bloods
Even men of timber and caliber shivers
Ha! Uncle Sam trembles at thy blow

What a time for the atheist
To raise both hands skyward
A time to trust the unknown
In the hands of the one
Made known by nature

Neglect
by Michael R. Burch

What good are tears?
Will they spare the dying their anguish?
What use, our concern
to a child sick of living, waiting to perish?

What good, the warm benevolence of tears
without action?
What help, the eloquence of prayers,
or a pleasant benediction?

Before this day is over,
how many more will die
with bellies swollen, emaciate limbs,
and eyes too parched to cry?

I fear for our souls
as I hear the faint lament
of theirs departing ...
mournful, and distant.

How pitiful our “effort,”
yet how fatal its effect.
If they died, then surely we killed them,
if only with neglect.

Keywords/Tags: neglect, starving, dying, perishing, famine, illness, disease, tears, anguish, concern, prayers, inaction, death

This world was full of life, until
My place my adobe, entire fell ill.
Mundane chores at a standstill
As per God’s decree and will.

Such an ordeal, a temporary test.
For which a plea, a humble request.

At such a crucial time, try being your best.
Don’t congregate: at humanity’s behest.
Be, compassion faith & caution, your quest.
Neither invite nor be a guest.

Stay at home, have ample rest
Your sole confinement, Protected blessed.
Enjoying leisure with family is best
With love and utmost zeal & zest

Let us all hope and pray,
This Pandemic vanishes away.
Taking along worldly disarray
Never persist to our sheer dismay.

At the predetermined heavenly pace,
These Trying times train us, just in case.
We face global pandemic’s abnormal chase.
To grasp & tackle, each challenging phase.

Everything is going to be fine,
The world shall soon retrieve
its safe and secure confines.
Everything as usual and fresh,
With all its hustle bustle & shine

sometimes i look into your clear brown eyes and

wish you would like my pasty ones

but even though you've never clarified my deeply rooted knowledge

i know you agree with me, the flowers spurting from my mouth coated with a red, metallic taste

knowing this taste will not go away,

i blame myself

falling is all i can do

simple words are being said

the plain, brittle truth

forget about the plain girl he thinks

or so he acts

riling up in my throat is the metallic taste of blood

i can taste daisies, roses, and all sorts of blossoms

he is only slightly aware

sighing causes the petals to float out

and i hide my ink markings in shame

does he call me out?

or even think my name?

Sitting in a waiting room with twenty other men,
All waiting for the good doctor to come; and then,
I notice, we’ve been waiting for half an hour;
Some worried sick, just sitting with no power
To help themselves or others in the room;
Just waiting; and although there’s no more room,
Another one enters. No! Sorry! A pair;
Yes! Most people come with companions who care;
Or, pretend to care, and seek relief here.
They say, “He’s always late. He has nothing to fear!
He is the great doctor!” But why is he late?!
Is he watching? Is he smiling at our fate?
Or, is he sleeping with some pretty goddess?
When are you going to come Mr. Flawless?!
Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’m right; but if I’m right,
We are all waiting for him to ***, right?!
Forget it. This room makes illusions shatter;
All helpless, no relief; but, does it matter?

Having Touched You
by Michael R. Burch

What I have lost
is not less
than what I have gained.
And for each moment passed
like the sun to the west,
another remained

suspended in memory
like a flower
in crystal
so that eternity
is but an hour
and fall

is no longer a season
but a state
of mind.
I have no reason
to wait;
the wind

does not pause
for remembrance
or regret
because
there is only fate and chance.
And so then, forget . . .

Forget that we were very happy
for a day.
That day was my lifetime.
Before that day I was empty
and the sky was grey.
You were the sunshine,

the sunshine that gave me life.
I took root
and I grew.
Now the touch of death is like a terrible knife,
and yet I can bear it,
having touched you.

Odd, the things that inspire us! I wrote this poem after watching "The Boy in the Bubble": a made-for-TV movie, circa 1976, starring John Travolta. So I would have been around 18 at the time. Keywords/Tags: bubble, boy, Travolta, disease, illness, death, love, touch, danger, courage