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Every breath, I breathed
Struggles to sail in the cool sunrise morn
silent cries
Fails to reach those anxious thoughts
Memories are hidden
Stored  away  
Beneath a broken heart
I lie here bewildered
I feel nothing
The things that used to be.
Are no more.
I crave yesterday
Like a lost vision
uncertainty
Everyday
Life
enjoyable
I long for the life I once knew .
Until then I sit
and wait
I wait .
haya Jul 2020
i was left alone
in the epidemic
All humans inside
Dystopian
I'm outside, seeing these horrible things

And i remember that i can't remember.

that I've probably forgotten
Where are my parents?
Where is my home?

No humans on sight, i think they're all dead
oh no, they're all inside it turns out,
I'm the one who's considered dead

Perhaps i am dead
because feeling alive is so distant and far away

And i can't remember.
Written somewhere in April, at the beginning of all the self-quarantining.
Michael R Burch May 2020
yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #1
by michael r. burch

plagued by the Plague
i plague the goldfish
with my verse



yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #2
by michael r. burch

sunflowers
hang their heads
embarrassed by their coronas

I wrote this poem after having a sunflower arrangement delivered to my mother, who is in an assisted living center and can’t have visitors due to the coronavirus pandemic.



homework: yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #3
by Michael R. Burch

dim bulb overhead,
my silent companion:
still imitating the noonday sun?


yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #4
by Michael R. Burch

Spring fling—
children string flowers
into their face masks



New World Order (last in a series and perhaps of a species)
by Michael R. Burch

The days of the dandelions dawn ...
soon man will be gone:
fertilizer.



Epitaph for a Little Child Lost
by Michael R. Burch

I lived as best I could, and then I died.
Be careful where you step: the grave is wide.



Not Saying the World Revolves Around You, But...
by Michael R. Burch

The day’s eyes were blue
until you appeared
and they wept at your beauty.



Imperfect Perfection
by Michael R. Burch

You’re too perfect for words―
a problem for a poet.



Stormfront
by Michael R. Burch

Our distance is frightening:
a distance like the abyss between heaven and earth
interrupted by bizarre and terrible lightning.



Splintering

An unbending tree
breaks easily.
―Lao Tzu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Autumn Conundrum
by Michael R. Burch

It's not that every leaf must finally fall,
it's just that we can never catch them all.



Laughter’s Cry
by Michael R. Burch

Because life is a mystery, we laugh
and do not know the half.

Because death is a mystery, we cry
when one is gone, our numbering thrown awry.



Childless
by Michael R. Burch

How can she bear her grief?
Mightier than Atlas, she shoulders the weight
of one fallen star.



Love Is Not Love
by Michael R. Burch

for Beth

Love is not love that never looked
within itself and questioned all,
curled up like a zygote in a ball,
throbbed, sobbed and shook.

(Or went on a binge at a nearby mall,
then would not cook.)

Love is not love that never winced,
then smiled, convinced
that soar’s the prerequisite of fall.

When all
its wounds and scars have been saline-rinsed,
where does Love find the wherewithal
to try again,
endeavor, when

all that it knows
is: O, because!



The Beat Goes On (and On and On and On ...)
by Michael R. Burch

Bored stiff by his board-stiff attempts
at “meter,” I crossly concluded
I’d use each iamb
in lieu of a lamb,
bedtimes when I’m under-quaaluded.

(Originally published by Grand Little Things)



The Folly of Wisdom
by Michael R. Burch

She is wise in the way that children are wise,
looking at me with such knowing, grave eyes
I must bend down to her to understand.
But she only smiles, and takes my hand.

We are walking somewhere that her feet know to go,
so I smile, and I follow ...

And the years are dark creatures concealed in bright leaves
that flutter above us, and what she believes―
I can almost remember―goes something like this:
the prince is a horned toad, awaiting her kiss.

She wiggles and giggles, and all will be well
if only we find him! The woodpecker’s knell
as he hammers the coffin of some dying tree
that once was a fortress to someone like me

rings wildly above us. Some things that we know
we are meant to forget. Life is a bloodletting, maple-syrup-slow.

Originally published by Romantics Quarterly



Keywords/Tags: haiku, epigram, epigrams, coronavirus, epidemic, pandemic, plague, mother, child, family, social distancing, life, death, numbers, numbering, mrbepi
Carlo C Gomez Jun 2020
Look closer...
the winding trail
is baked to perfection,
bearing the scars
of a caesarean section.

Only the snakes
dare travel along I-8,
one-by-one the seasons lie prone,
in heat this sun will castrate.

The burnt aspects on faces
don’t smile or frown,
they peer out as residue
to places perished in the wake of
a cityscape’s head trauma,
calling out to the heaven’s above
as they await her to rise
with wings from these ashes,
in anticipation for a day ne’er to draw nigh,
even the steady fall of acid rain
will fail to wash away such genocide.

A favorite haunt transmutes
into a ghost town,
burning into the ground
the heat seeps into the soul,
and the procession begins again
for whom the bell tolls.

Towers of steel melt
as popsicles on the pavement,
the sun’s punishment
is constantly transcendent,
the noise of sparks and hums
rattle the spine,
today’s forecast is a good chance
of saturnine.

Eerie colors at dawn
make for a spectral scenic view,
picnic lunch in the park
is categorically taboo,
the hunters of men
swoon in subjugation to this tyranny,
weather’s wrath was everyone’s destiny.

Live a little, die a little,
pretend it cannot happen,
but in the end we all windup
as peanut brittle...
Nisha Apr 2020
Beneath the surface danger lurked
Invading forces stealthily worked
Causing panic and suffocation across the seas...
A criminal virus in disguise, amidst busy life
attacked the human race....

Life's at a halt, powerless and crippled
Rags or riches we're all left humbled
Restless are the minds of many apart
Dampened spirit in every heart....
Humans escape to their forests
Animals roam free in zest
Hungry and homeless are penniless
While economy's gone for a toss....
Corpses lie unclaimed, burnt and discarded
Grief and sorrow have hungrily overpowered

Hospitals, labs and the police are warrior bees
There are other saviors too working tirelessly
A vaccine they say is on it's way....
Loved ones are spending time together
Waiting patiently for the storm to weather

Peace on earth as in the garden of Eden
As we settle in our nests during this isolation....  
Nature's joyfully healing, what a content feeling
Humans have joined their hands in prayers
They say God works in mysterious ways!

Scriptwriters see an opportunity
To reel the invisible entity
We'll get to relive the pandemic on screen
Hopefully dead and never to return....

An impending doom, who knew?
Time will decide a life anew!

©16/4/2020 Nisha/AryanAlisha
Esther En Qin Apr 2020
Genki desu,
I am fine,

self-isolation at home,
self-reflection,
self-relaxing moment,

read a poem,
write a poem,
bake a cake,
eat a slice,

time to heal,
time to help,
time to save,

you&I through this epidemic .
stay safe everyone .
Ashish Dube Mar 2020
Ajab si khamoshi hai
Hawao me ek roshani chhae hai
Logo ko bade arso baad fursat mili apno ke bicha rehane ki kyun ki
Corona ne chaaro aur koharam machae hai

Loga ko aj smjha raha is musibat me daulata kaam na aae hai
Bs ghar se bahar na nikalo sarkar ki itni hi guhaae hai
Phir bhi kuch sadko pe ghuma rahe hai
Shayaad unko baat smjha na aae hai

Dusaro ko kyun jokhim me daal rahe **
Waise hi itni badi aafat china ne laae hai
Doctor desh sb to lada rahe hai
Ab hume bhi saath mila kar ladani ye ladae hai

Swastha rahe ghar pe rahe.
This poem is relates to current situation, that means world wide this epidemic going very critical so this poem is basically in hindi language and poet wants to give us massage that we should stay safe at home.
George Krokos Mar 2020
Let all the warm sunlight in
and the new day to begin
for the night has now been cast
with our sorrows so to last
in those days lying ahead
that many will only dread
this modern epidemic
which is now a pandemic.

And that long finger of scorn
now points to where it was born
at a country that's growing
much too rapidly knowing
as it tries to beat the rest
in its own ambitious quest
to become a world leader
instead became a *******.

It has happened twice before
on this ancient country's shore
where a bad virus outbreak
by carelessness did so make
with a disastrous effect
for not being circumspect
doing the right thing but caught
and this virus to us brought.

The world is now on its knees
for a new vaccine that frees
man from the deadly disease
that's also spreading with ease
as all the casualties grow
and daily statistics show
called the corona virus
which is out to destroy us.

Unless a vaccine is found
to an early grave we're bound
the fate of most of mankind
a result of being blind;
too much pride and ambition
causing this sad condition
and man's own dire end to be
as foretold in prophesy.
_____
One of my latest poems on the current pandemic that's sweeping the world. I hope and pray that it wont be like this poem depicts at the end. God help us all.
Poetic T Mar 2020
It started with a cough,
  a thousand little teardrops
hung about the air...

then one fell upon another
      and the story doesn't end

there...

For a cough fell upon another,
and another didn't wash his hands.
Then one became more until
a city was on lockdown..

But the world isn't big when we
can descend upon the many lands.
But manners some do not have
     to cover there mouth to wash

now ***** hands..

So now the world is coughing
       finding it hard to breath.
But some never took another
and now there friends and family

weep..

So we have a choice, to stay in.
           to keep ourselves safe.
but not only us, but the
  department of health
and others don't you see.

Who are we fighting for,
                   not just you and me.
For the elderly and those of
   ill health.
For we must be vigilant.
Yes we may get cabin fever,
but its better than being

   dead, don't you see..
Mitch Prax Mar 2020
Dear diary;
this world is
falling to pieces-
I can see it on my screen
and I can hear it outside
my window.
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