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mjad May 2020
My friends tell me of their days
Same as mine
Texting, scrolling, napping, eating
Eyes glued to a screen till three am
The new night
Told it will end in two weeks
But there's no true end in sight
Ylzm May 2020
Adam's hand wrestled and bound:
unsubmitting, defiant, in anger, rages;
The Name of the upper hand is known,
but denied, and the Son of Man blasphemed.
Mark Toney May 2020
anxious heart made sick
anticipation postponed—
beware second wave


© 2020 Mark Toney.  All rights reserved.
5/13/2020 - Poetry form: senryu - © 2020 Mark Toney.  All rights reserved.
Sivakumar May 2020
When every day is a Sunday
where home is the whole world
Then time and space remain the same

What happens?
time has to be spent in some guise
you binge watch
you cook
you Sleep
you read
you eat
you speculate

your hobbies overdone
your to-do list remains empty
you get bored
you get feared
Suddenly time has become surplus
Space has become limited

Are you free now than ever
or Tied even tighter?
the past looms larger
the future seems bleaker
there is nothing new in the news
your compound is now your city walls

Seclusion and sanitisers have rightly
become the order of the day
gaining pounds and e-courses are quietly
accepted without any say
yes, social distancing keeps men away
originally, mobile phones were doing that anyway

Slow days and with no change,
time and space have become really one
Einstein is right once again

Many businesses have become online
But none seem to fall in line

The rotations have stopped
the buses, the cars, the trains
the machineries
the schools, the offices, the factories
The only thing that runs are days,
But also -
the TVs, the phones, the internet,
and the social media is extra busy

Everywhere there’s waiting -
queues for essentials
students for classes
travellers for destination
purses for spending
But nothing is happening

Cars didn’t vroomed
suits weren’t worn
nor shoes got dusted

Corridors are empty
Roads have become bigger
as the traffic got smaller
Highways got to go nowhere
Markets and malls are getting colder

Has The great run of Modernity halted?
Is Civilisation taking a breather?
has History paused?

But how long
None of us know

Still our hearts say
Finally, one day
Things will be back to normal

But on that day
would man have unlearned -
his shopping
his motoring
his dining
And all his material ostentations?

Would have this bare period
taught man to live a life that’s unhurried
That Thoreau & Wordsworth learnt in the woods
To live a life with just the essential material goods
A golden return our pristine roots

Would have man learnt to live a simple life
learned through these hard days?
Or would he rush to his former ways?
Will the world on that day be as normal
as it was or
will that day bring a new normal?

- R.Sivakumar
teachnew@outlook.com
Dave Robertson May 2020
The path ahead is unclear
the first few steps seem fine
(as fine is redefined by times)
beyond is cowled in green gloom
with definition hidden
but enticing

We pause and breathe
ask feet to tentatively tread possibilities
for surer surface

The line ascribed
by timeless river run
seems safe
and the possibility of kingfishers
is a draw indeed

But we have seen these river banks
lost to inundation
and irresistible weight

To realise this too late
would be fatal

so we collaborate in waiting
and make the call
I saw a kingfisher again! That’s three times in 44 years...
Sweet was that nudge of the exterior heavens
Rays of sun, typical yet perceived so illicit
“You can’t go out” says a lady from porch
“For everything you see guides to demise”

Smartest animal yet so frail we stay at our abode
Wind blowing from pane evokes a dream within
Scowled at the year but our nemesis was to blame
For once the earth kicks off we won’t fail it again
Jennifer May 2020
heed the air
for there are particles swooping
like vultures there,
with every breath death does prance
like a playful fawn,
and some ritual dance.
i never thought this bane would come
to this small world i live,
shutters closed, streets numb,
faces masked and souls glum.  
stare at the same four walls a day
at least i’m safe, netheless turning
dizzy. read, read, read till my eyes fray;
my ghost is ebbing,
flowing far away.
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