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Quarantining is a joke
We can’t go out and have fun
No club no sport no movies no shows
Really is fucken annoying
But if we think about
The fun we can have at home
Watching YouTube and Netflix
And we will bring our time
Letting trapper win oh yeah
Quarantining is a joke
No sitting on the beach
Can’t sit in the park
Talking to your mate
What a fucken joke it is
But if we follow all the rules
We won’t catch covid 19
And hopefully we won’t die
It is a jolly big sacrifice
But it is important
Just follow the rules the politicians say
And stay at home oh yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah stay at home
Quarantining is a joke
No watching bands at the clubs
No poetry slams or bingo sessions
Really drives me insane
But if we follow the rules
You can see all that on YouTube and on zoom
And have a party at home
Enjoying life oh yeah come on party dude
Yes rock and roll
No kareoke except for singing along on YouTube
Just listen to the authorities and you can still have fun even if fun looks like fading just have fun at home
a germ has infected
the Hello Poetry site
it is much worse
than a mosquito's bite

fast spreading
is its very nasty spores
in the layers of dermis
one sees its grubby paws

quarantining the place
is a massive task
as the germ has escaped
from its insecure flask

precautions must be taken
by all members here
remember to pop on
your safety gear

you'll all be wanting
to be informed of scourge
which at this site
has been having a splurge

the plagiarizing bug
is omnipresent be forewarned
and those who've been at it
should be well scorned
Amy Grindhouse Jan 2014
I remember
we would retreat
to the isolated solace
of our bedroom
Quarantining ourselves
from the strain of existence
in that murderous crushing
outside world
As we engaged in
things both metaphysical
and physical
I would rest my head
on your chest
listening to the enthralled
chambers of your heart
and if
my mind would not
quiet
you would tell me
'Be still.
Be calm.
Do not rely
on the words of
others.
Tell me something
in your own words.'
It was only in the comfort
of your utmost attention
that I felt at peace.
Anais Vionet Jan 2022
We’re busy all day long with studying and chapter summaries,
we’re stuck in quarantine. Luckily, I like my roommate's company.

We know that we have work to do as prep for upcoming classes,
but we know that it takes more than work to make young lasses happy.

So I talked my roomies into getting, a steak-n-cheese delivery,
instead of working fact-sheets, for our next term chemistry.

Dueling playlists cave-rave from the echos in our suites,
we’re having all the fun we can on opening quarantine week.

Some guys try for invites, like we’re throwing a private wingding,
but those texts go unanswered ‘cause we’re genuinely quarantining.

With the COVID blues proscribed - get that frown right off your face miss,
our studies are on schedule - and it’s time for some serious play *****!
Hammad Oct 2020
The world has turned
upside down,
distancing - is the new norm,
We are not supposed
to shake hands - anymore
The Paranoia has the world
In its claws,
Survivors are quarantining - at home,
and fear is running
through our veins
but we don't really need
millions of vaccines
that I am Sure
if we could just
have "A Contagious Cure"
that we pass it on
like a Virus...
David Hasselblad Aug 2019
Eaten Alive by Nothing

Surrounded yet alone,
Wasteland of desperation and despair,
Reaping rotting fruit, bloats, gnats, flyblown,
Longing, loneliness is never fair,

Lanterns and candle light to keep you warm,
Dancing shadows morph to devils,
Slitting despair bleeding, breeding ticks that swarm,
They feed and breed into hungry weevils,

Burrowing through chest to feed on carrion of rotting heart,
Also feeding on air from lung,
Heart along in solitude from ventricles shredded apart,
Alienating through truth, be still my lashing tongue,

Friends are always around,
Right until you need,
A lost letter of emotion sent outbound,
Lost but never found, devils take the lead,

Numb, in slowly boiling water like a frog,
Past scars of trauma a curse,
Can only feel so much before a clog,
Until you become cold, psychotic, or worse.

Break out the old smokescreen mask,
Smoke, laugh and smile,
Survivals your only task,
Foot in front of foot until your first mile,

Decaying down to skin and bone,
Each mile a greater distance,
Always harder when you’re alone,
Exhausted, running from the devils persistence,

Until a day you want to be alone
Quarantining spread this plagues fate of hate,
Feeling like happiness is just a loan,
Someone finally listens, too little, too late,

You hug your dark cloud,
With a thirst water doesn’t sate,
Ears covered, anxiety so, so loud,
Take a shot, a smoke, anything to placate,

An infested body no one wants close,
Insect army of traumas and abuses,
Each growing into a lethal dose,
At least for now, I still have my uses,
Anais Vionet Jan 2022
He passes through the room like a bubble in champagne, unattached, teflon coated, and somehow freer than the rest of us. “Jordie’s here,” Leong says in an excited whisper.

“Yeah,” I sigh, adjusting my mask, “saw him.” She smiles like a cat behind hers. Leong knows I’m crushing on Jordie and she finds it delicious information which she waves at me like a flag whenever he’s around.

We’re processing in, distancing and passing table to table. Leong can be with me because, as roommates, we’ll be quarantining together. Lisa joins us, she’s back from the restroom. “Jordie’s here,” she says, bouncing up on her toes to better scan the room.

I don’t look at him but he fills my horizon like a thunderhead. He’s all I can see, even when I’m not looking at him. We reach the end of a row of tables and bam, there he is, six feet away. He says hi, I say hi - I’m very professional as we exchange looping, harmless euphemisms for settling in for spring semester - then he’s called to the next station.

“If only we weren’t so busy,” I say, holding this fiction in front of me like a shield. “Yeah,” Leong and Lisa say, practically together, and smiling like thieves.
BLT word of the day challenge: euphemisms: substitute words
Michael Marchese Nov 2016
We've let fear become the novacaine
Like whiskey for the wounds
Swallowing denial pills
For truths that lie ahead
Injecting hopelessness
With needles of realities too real
For optimism's foreign policy
Behind our walls
We alienate the cure
To division's disease

A contagion known by many names
Ignorance is uttered most
A sickness in the veins
Of cancerous medical costs
A pestilence set upon
The amber fields of grain
A plague quarantining classes
In prison-bars and penthouses
A famine on the families
In this minimum cage

Where once we flew with eagles
Now we wallow in the dirt
Born into a dying world
Grown from selfish roots
Watered on pessimism
Bending to the will of hate's
Axe of opportunity
Cutting down the other trees
That dared to share the light of our
American dreams
John F McCullagh Apr 2020
We could start drinking but it never ends
As long as we're gone, we may as well
stay in-
quarantining
Staying six feet apart

You said it's easy but who's to say
That we'd be able to keep it this way
But it's easier
Staying six feet apart
You’ve been avoiding me right from the start
From all we’ve heard that’s probably smart
You know I'll never go
As long as I know
We’ll stay six feet apart

I'll see you on the street -you’re wearing your mask
and If I’m not- you’re gonna take me to task
Quarantining
Six feet apart

Six feet apart
Got to keep us six feet apart
So infection has no chance to start
You know I'll never go
As long as I know
We’re staying six feet apart
Mathew P Nangolo Mar 2020
The world is at war
fighting a bitter battle
a no gun or bullet battle

It's an unusual war
that requires us all
to kneel down

kneel down and fight
fight with a prayer
and through quarantining  

It attacks us like a whirlwind
and the flight is out of necessity
but fighting  is a necessity
#down
#covid19
Andrea Jul 2020
The suburb life has me talking this way
In fits and in bursts, a rainbow array
Until I find an alternate speak
I ask if you can please bear with me

I met a Sir in my cull du sac, grey
A man in a dark and stringy toupee
Concern I felt as he spoke to himself
And the echo still sits on my book shelf

The brew is new, I will chew!
Petri dishes... more than a few!  
Let my strong voice ravage through
The mask I wear to protect you

See my power over this
I’ll put my tears in this fist!
I curse the devil, you know
A mage I am, in mourning

I followed that man as he walked in his home
I asked for his name to put in a poem
He said his name is merely a disease
And there’s not yet a working vaccine

Stomp stomp I’m here I’ve arrived!
Here to save all of mankind!
From this piece of RNA
Plus keep other strings at bay

With Angel ****, feet and lips
The skillset on my CV
Microscopes and power bars
And all of my great technique

Covid 19 has me up in arms too
The quarantining and seeing too few
To curse the devil is brave as can be
But to dismember an angel scares me

I followed that man as he walked on out
This time dressed just like a true scout
In scrubs a sheild and everything else
Needed to fight a war on bad health

To work day and night the biggest fight
I have schizophrenia, so I am right
Wow! Hurray, without sarcasm I knelt
Thank you sir for the work you do, heartfelt
who of us
can remember a time
when our lives were normal
of chime

the advent of Covid-19
put paid to everything
whereupon we were ******
into a malady's ring

still mask wearing is
mandatory
so too quarantining ever
compulsory
and not to forget the lockdowns are
obligatory

on a pandemic occuring our
daily routines aren't set in stone
for we've got to be more
adaptably prone

the scourge of the virus
has been intrusive
it's affected the world's population
by being so disruptive  

we all hark back to the days
of free movement
and we're looking forward
to an existence of improvement
Autumn Dec 2020
I have not had to quarantine this entire pandemic until now
In the beginning I was an essential worker
working 40 hour weeks with my own apartment
Now I am stuck at home
in a non-essential position
quarantining because my bf had Covid.
test and test and test
and how do I not have it?
how do you go from being productive with depression to in a house with nowhere to go, nothing to do depression
So here I sit wondering how others made it through alive?
Onoma May 2020
what this is,

the enough of

the enough.

Quarantining.

(forty days in or out).

we have come between

ourselves.

judgement dying all over this place.

blessed be.
Mateuš Conrad May 2020
how not to quit smoking...
                          what a cods-wallop!
you can hear the stories of smokers
of a packet a day for 20 years:
perhaps they started in the vein:
of a rebellious teen:
going full cold-turkey and abruptly
quitting -
sometimes relapsing...

personally: i don't want to quit...
that there's a myth of coffee and cigarettes...
last time i checked...
there were the people who would
smoke when drinking alcohol...

the smell and the taste of tobacco...
come to think of it...
it was never to be coupled with
coffee: since we're not talking
apéritifs and digestifs and food...

we're talking... nicotine and caffeine...
and we're talking... tobacco
and coffee per se -
a balanacing act of the palette...

smoking always went together with
a bourbon...
never the coffee...
somehow drinking some hard liquor
while enjoying a cigarette...
is so much more...

   there's no need for a cigar...
but all this cold turkey crap and quitting...
i had to take an alternative route...

going cold-turkey for a day...
the thoughts were a problem...
smoking is less a physical addiction
after a while...
something... more... habitual...
during the day: i skipped the first...
and the second... the one with the coffee...
and esp. the ones after a meal...

but when i started looking for a night-cap
i said: ******* cold-turkey...
the day was finished...
    i don't want to: distrust the compliment
something gives another...

cutting down from circa 20 per day...
to 2... and these being smoked when
drinking bourbon?
the middle ground... always the middle ground...

never again: a cigarette on its own...
or with coffee...
most certainly no cigarette smoking
after a meal...
but when the bourbon comes out...
this entire day...
                 how to become more sensible...
pass the day: from one habitual missing
link to another...
taking up a jazz apple...
an orange... some peacan nuts...
fiddling with a toothpick...
everything concerning:
a delay of gratification...

                  and why quit in the first place?
well... covid-19...
the quarantining of healthy individuals...
which implies that...
the moldovians and the romanians
and the bulgarians are not travelling...

       the poles did likewise... once upon a time...
it's hardly a black market of cigarettes...
just... the currency differences...
so they'd sell a carton of marlboros for...
something in the range of...
good old days £25... a carton: 200 cigarettes...
£30 and £35 still pretty decent...
hell... sometimes even coughing up
£45 a carton... dire times...

but... buying cigarettes...
                      at the retail price...
in england... i wouldn't be a "recovering" smoker...
if: the whole "adventure" would be
suicide... i'd sooner have become
a crack-******* addict...

cold turkey day no. 1...
i might as well have just smoked
                  some crack-*******...
or drank 5 cups of espresso...
but since i haven't... drank 5 cups of espresso
and smoked a cigarette...
instead: drank some bourbon
and smoked a cigarette...
             well... it's a really fine balancing act...

the alcohol will have to be the cushion
that i do not over-step the boundaries...
i.e. smoke more than 2 cigarettes in
this session...
               i'll begin with 2...
after an entire day of cold-turkey...
let this be my Pavlov experiment...

        the effect will wear off as quick as
it comes... but to keep the glutton monster
at bay... the same dosage of alcohol...
all in all... to go back to the original
threshold... not this... numbed:
habitual goblin of...
                    the sanctity of a cigarette...
is not with a coffee in the morning...
or after a meal...
or just "anywhere" and at just "anytime"...

the altar of sitting perched on a windowsill...
bourbon in hand...
at the end of the day...
somehow wanting to spew some words
onto a paper...

like hell i'll quit...
but from circa 20 a day: at the lowest ebb...
circa 40...
                to 2 cigarettes a day?
with that compliment of bourbon?
measure! measure of all things!
           enough of what is necessary...
so that... it doesn't become habitual...
outside of the realm of sanctity...
                the ritual of addressing the bed...
many a times...
before that bed: will most certainly
become a coffin...

a sly drink during the day?
no... a devoid of importance cigarette...
at the beginning of the day?
no... but the sanctity of the evening...
well... that's as special as...
the first time someone turned on
a light-bulb!

— The End —