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Some look too far
Some look too near

Some with gloves
Some with nerve-twitched pose

Some very old
Some grew cold

Some thirst no more
Some stare upon air

Some sit in gloom
Some in Doom

Some try to weep
Some with many tears

Into an empty space
Sit with silent men.
Druzzayne Rika May 2020
one step outside
and thousand thoughts in my head
five feet distance to maintain
the mask, check
the gloves, check
can I breath, I don't know
my heart pounding, yes
it is crazy, I know
but paranoia won't go
Empty streets, here I come
got to stock up the essentials
Dr Zik Apr 2020
Social distance is the best,
Waving hands and, not shaking
You can touch your, lovely heart
Keep a distance, of 6 feet
Social distance is the best

To keep safe your, inner side
Dust mask is the, best to use
If you need to, touch a thing
Gloves are the best, as tactic
Social distance is the best

If you are with, the hands naked
Tissue paper, you should use
Give up all type, wandering
Social distance is the best

If you are in, dire need of
Cooking, washing, or cleaning
Be determined, with full care
Social distance is the best

Go to market, for a while
On fix hours as decided
Your getup should, as guided
Mask n glasses, hands in gloves
Social distance is the best

Come in hurry to, clean yourself
Twenty seconds, wash your hands
Destroy all things, which you can
Social distance is the best

If shows these lights, your character
It will be a great honour
I will salute to, you man
I will with you, as a fan
Dr Zik's Poetry
Poetic T Apr 2020
Hi-** Hi-** it's sanitizing I go,
   With a pump and spray
    Killing covid 19 on my way

Hi-low Hi-low  I got a cough
Not going away,
Getting harder to breath.
  With a high temperature
   Its off to hospital I go...

Hi-low  Hi-low

Hi-low Hi-low  I'm here to stay
            Still feeling weak
  Harder to breath
But I'm social distancing
   More than I did.

Hi-low Hi-low no gloves on as
it doesn't protect as you,
more germs
   Collecting than you know.

Hi-low Hi-low

So many passing away,
  Doctors, medics
Normal people in every
   Walk of life,
I cried as I felt Hi-low

Hi-low Hi-low it's the way we go,
We have our high days and
Then lows..
When we just  want it over,
lock down h ere to stay,
but were alive and the peak is low.
Hussein Dekmak Apr 2020
When I ran into you,
Your face was cold, covered with a mask,
Yet your eyes were so warm and welcoming,
Sending me a thousand heartfelt greetings!

You were physically distanced from me,
Yet your heart, your love was running in my direction,
So close I could feel it!

Your hands were hidden under gloves,
Yet your soul was radiating on me with such warmth!

Hussein Dekmak
Edited 2
I am a healthcare professional (Medical Technologist). I work at a Laboratory  Hospital doing blood, and respiratory testing... Everyday, like my devoted co-worker, I walk into a storm fighting  the COVA 19 virus, trying to save one life at a time
Ash Young Aug 2019
I caught a glimpse of my hands in the reflection of a window
And thought they were my mother’s.
I’m wearing gloves from now on.
svdgrl Jan 2019
They’re supposed to keep you warm, while you hold things when it’s brick out.
But mine never fit right.
Sliding about but if they’re tight they’re too thin,
If they’re thick I can’t type with them.
When something fits like one, it’s supposed to be perfect. Sleek- form fitting,
Perfect match.
That hasn’t quite happened yet for me.

I should just hide my hands in my pockets.
I need to feel things, anyway.
I always lose them, anyway.
I sure know how to choose them,
Heat-tech and fingerless, mittens
and insulated.
What’s a middle ground?
Dirt is healthy, anyway.
I rather just see the ghosts, anyway.
C P X Mar 2018
If only I had a real scalpel-
Something to reconstruct my form
I'll snap on some rubber
Up to my elbow in sanitary protection
Slice my muscle away from my hip bone
Tear a clean line down to my navel
Open up my nakedness
Unwrap my skin and redistribute me
From my jaw to my shoulders
From my sternum to my pelvis
From my coccyx to my metatarsals

I lost hope a lifetime ago-
Simply an impossible fantasy
I was given a meatsuit too small
A vessel that will never adjust to reality
Up to my fingertips in warm protection
Layer after layer pretending to bulk up
Nothing hangs on my crooked frame quite right
I know what will fit
In the space between my eyes
I'm coughing on all the chemicals in here
And I was always told to go out with a bang

I need to lose this billion dollar industry-
The luxurious parasite that feasts
First on my distended abdomen
Then onto my mal-hued mind
Lastly on my desperate soul
Stab my disfigured thigh with blissful needles
Syringes to reshape this prison
Leaving scars, bruises, bruised
Better than the white mouths
That once kissed my misshapen arms
Up to the wrist in longsleeve protection

So now I'll tolerate alternate forms
Of self destruction or creation
Nonexistent torment kept under wraps
I'll settle with cutting the fingers off my gloves
Still unable to hide my hands
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