Your words, your poems

New years eve we would weep as forests fell to bushfire
blood red skies caused by flames getting hotter and higher
animals lost we watched the earth come so close to the wire
Guilty hearts but still we planned all our new years desire

Booking holidays, resolutions we were hopeful as 2020 came
But overconsumption, corporate powers kept causing nature pain
Plastic pollution destroying seas yet it carried on the same
Global warming plenty warning we often felt somewhat ashamed

Euro exit some may say led by the idiot, pomp and vile
Americas own Trump himself paraded on impeachment trial
Still he fought with Iran so they then sent their deadly missile
Killing hundreds on a plane as we watched scared meanwhile

Out of nowhere lives were paused by a global virus catapault
Our lives altered and were changed coming to a grinding halt
Children's education placed on parents already feeling overwrought
Time to reflect as we ponder how much of this could be our own fault

Hope springs eternal and families bloom like budding flowers in a pot
Could it be that this breather would help to reduce the social rot
Online gatherings world love linking can this be the world we sought
Nature sad it took tragedy to make us humans pause for thought.

Written by Rhonda Walters (aka ronsrhymes), London, April 2020

The sign on the door: 

“Masks are mandatory in this store.”

Lists of complaints ensue:

Masks fog my lenses

Masks hurt my ears 

Masks cause my face to sweat

Masks make it hard to breathe

Masks make me smell what I exhale 

For me, masks are less of a burden:

I can make myself flashy and fashionable,

or I can wear those that belong in the trash following a shift. 

Masks mean that my smile does not matter 

when people look my way. 

Masks mean I owe no explanation 

about the frown that lives on my face. 

Masks mean my eyes are 

seen past my purple rims. 

Masks mean tone and vocabulary are finally

the valuable skills English teachers tried to instill. 

Masks mean I don’t have to worry about lipstick 

or a perfectly powdered chin 

or the blemishes on my cheeks.

Masks mean my transparent expressions

are at last the secret I’ve always wished to keep. 

What once was metaphorical

is now real -

no one can see how I feel

when only half of my face is revealed. 

Masks mean that I can be more like me. 

I can finally say I’m smiling underneath, 

and no one knows the statement is untrue. 

Written by  Makaila Aarin, Mississippi, USA, July 2020

Small daily pilgrimages

to the outside world, to find space

outside of these walls.

One foot in front of the other

showered by the colours of nature blooming wild,

pastel sunrises and lamp-like leftover moons.

These days blessed with the presence of days-eyes

squinting up through uneven blades of grass

that somehow seems greener than it ever did before.

A clump of five dandelions, cheery faces

turned up to the sun, makes me think of us

and I'm choked by a sudden lump in my throat

with the thought that I won't be seeing you

anytime soon. Still. I surrender the thought, the loss.

Still. My heart aches. My feet move on.

Revelling in these daily journeys, this hour of freedom,

hearing the sea as it crashes, feeling the sting of the wind

across my face, the burst of sunlight on my skin

and I breathe in like I've never breathed before.

Written by Emma Cunliffe, UK, April 2020

 In 2020 the world stood still 

We held our breath and waited 

We hoped it wouldn't be too long 

Before the tragedy abated.

We followed #Stay-at-home

Got good at cakes and knitting 

Growing veg sustainably

In our gardens, or just sitting.

Going out for daily walks

Or jumping with Joe Wicks

Home schooling took our days

Evenings we watched Netflix.

We didn’t forget our keyworkers

Friends and family to all.

We clapped on Thursday evenings

To keep their spirits from a fall.

As the days turned into weeks 

And the weeks went on and on

We wondered if our previous life 

Had simply vanished and gone.

If our old lifestyle was history

We finally asked, so what?

If some old habits were left behind 

Would we really mind one jot?

If we swapped our cars for bicycles

And bought only what we need?

If we made and mended and thrifted

And let go of our plastic greed?

If we looked out for the lonely 

And shared more with our neighbours?

The next time you need some help

Maybe they’ll return the favour!

If we put those window rainbows

Into practice every day?

Then maybe from this time on,

To our children's children we could say:

“Yes, child, I lived through Covid times,

Suffered loss, experienced grief.

But coming out of all of that 

We turned over a better leaf.”

Written by  Lucy Heuschen, Germany, May 2020

I live in contemporary dread,

A commonly held acceptance of doom

Dampening the last vestiges of light

In my mind’s already dimly lit rooms.

Floor space for foot stamping.

Head space for temple tapping.

These walls, one moment closing in

The next out of my reach,

The heightened shrill of scratchy din

To silent vibrations of dying screech

And echoes fading into those walls

To rest in nooks and empty hollows,

Shadows slip through cracks in floors

To places where I long to follow.

Loneliness is a state of mind,

What state it's in is undefined.

I live squarely in the new world,

A hand dealt by nature, steered by science,

A grave new world where narcissists

Are rewarded for incompetence,

And still the death toll rises daily;

A backdrop to disinformation

And hidden governmental failings

Designed to placate a nation.

As we look to the left, and we look to the right,

And we try to look forward we are tethered from behind.

Somewhere else the fires rage

Over devaluation of human life,

And anger soars in battle roars

Which is met with vitriolic spite

As the fire-armed, long-arm of the law

Cuts swathe’s across the smouldering land,

Some bend to place a knee on the ground

Some bend to wash their bloody hands.

Guilt that manifests through hate.

A flame that spreads at a viral rate.

A petulant enfant terrible,

Gargling convenient biblical psalms:

Claims he’s the messiah of free world

Whilst rattling the chains between his palms

And dissecting the honour of woman and man,

Rewriting the order of basic rights,

Threats to control subordination

With rubber bullets and canon strikes.

In cold, near dark compartments within my head

I live in perpetual, contemporary dread.

Written by  Marc Hawkins, June 2020, Cornwall, UK.

Dystopian days and inebriate nights
A pause in plausible thought
And fixation secured on essentiality
Education becomes academic
Are red peppers better than green? 

Written by Diny van-Kleeff, Hellingly, UK, April 2020

Eyes wide in disbelief,

I just can't believe that you just can't see,

My fair people's friend has become a thief.

I'm asked to ask please see your heart,

You know your heart.

Truly you know the effect of your choices,

Even with a thousand instincts drowning it out,

You do know what's beyond all those voices.

Or let your eyes tell mine,

You truly don't.

Truly I am maddened to fight for the day,

But that only seems to hasten the ruin,

You're way ahead of me on that anyway.

High on top of money,

Controlling the bottom line of guns.

Eyes wide in disbelief,

A one hundred year old ocean traveller chokes on a coffee pod,

A three year old war orphan chokes on grief.

Angry enough to contrive that,

You really are, I see that.

Truly, from exposure, you guard your insecurities

At the expense of everything, for no pain would be worse,

So it's safer to keep people on their knees.

But I'm told that you know,

You know something's not quite right with that.

Truly I enjoy the reverie,

Of your painful comeuppance and deserved suffering,

But of course in reality it would hurt to see,

Underneath it all,

The wounded child.

Eyes wide in disbelief,

As a light caught my mind's eye by surprise,

I open and turn towards a great sense of peace.

It's beautiful,

I wish you could see it.

Truly you choose not to see what you really are,

To remain unaware of what you're truly a part of,

It's even been proven you're made from a star.

In light of that,

Do your choices still sit well in you?

Truly we are all connected,

I'm asked to ask you please see your heart,

There you know how everything's caused and affected.

I wish you could know this beauty,

That would cause you to better effect.

I wish I could see it better myself.

Written by Chad Roberts, Seaford, UK, April 2020