Covidiocy - Donald Keyman

Am I one, one of the seventy-three?
Waiting by the phone ever so anxiously
Checking my temperature and my sense of taste
If I’m about to die I’d like to see my killer’s face
To check for empathy and some sense of shame
A realisation of the gravity of their selfish game

It seems highly unlikely that they lived alone
It could have been your lodger or you perhaps used their phone
Did anyone not realise there was a spreader in their midst
Maybe you lived with them or were someone that they kissed
You might well have taken their empty glass to the bar
Helping to spread that virus to people near and far

The exponential potential of your actions cannot be ignored
You need to ask yourself if it was a luxury we cannot afford
A text message arrives it’s from the States again
Telling us to obey the rules if we’ve half a brain
I still don’t yet know if I’m one of the seventy-three
Waiting all alone to gasp for air and die needlessly

Donald Keyman

Covid Insanity - Diane Scantlebury

So strange the silence
That descends upon our towns,
As stunned, we retreat
To the isolated safety of home,
Forbidden to socialize,
Afraid to roam,
Our lives turned upside down
By a virus,
That’s truly gone viral,
We plunge into selfish anarchy
In a downward spiral,
The worst and best traits of humanity,
Stirred up by the fever
Of Covid insanity.

Diane Scantlebury

Self-Isolating - Tony Gardner

I've been stuck inside for five days straight
It's so flipping irritating
I'm not allowed outside my gate
I'm self-Isolating.
The dog is not a happy boy
He finds it so frustrating
He's chewed the head off every toy
Since we've been Isolating.
He misses all the exercise
Sits by the door just waiting
He cannot seem to understand
Why we're self-Isolating
The missus doesn't seem to mind
She is so placating
When we get wound up and enraged
Through self-Isolating
Suppose we shouldn't feel this way
But 'til this starts abating
For all our sakes we must put up
With flipping Isolating.

Tony Gardne

Something's Gonna Get Ya - Stephen A. Roberts

The dinosaurs never watched TV
But they knew they’d die eventually
Just something in the air they sensed
Wasn’t right, it was no coincidence

Bronty craned her neck to see
The approaching calamity
The Sun had gone she wondered why
No Pterodactyls crossed the sky

Tyrannosaurus wasn’t bored
He was working on his hoard
His massive bones were later found
With a pile of creatures all around

Even Stego the herbivorous charmer
Felt an itch beneath his armour
And worried that there might be a chance
That he’d soon run out of plants

So each of them found their own way
To face their final judgement day
And one by one they fell down dead
Asleep forever in their fossil beds

Stephen A. Roberts

The Death Song - Ian Duquemin

This song's about the night I died
The knife. My blood. My suicide
I bet my soul that no one cried
No angel came, so someone lied

The veil of life and death was thin
It brushed against my butchered skin
I took a peekaboo within
My death on show. My mortal sin

I hoped someone would welcome me
And see what others failed to see
A soul who longed to be set free
His shame that held no dignity

So here I am, and still I'm lost
Who sacrificed and paid the cost
Whose pieces shattered, stained and tossed
Now crumbled into ash and dust

The grave awaits, so dark and deep
A place for my eternal sleep
To bury secrets sworn to keep
In silence where I sadly weep

Remember me as nothing good
A child, a man, misunderstood
Who longed to love, but never could
As every living person should

Ian Duquemin

True Romance - Richard Fleming

It may have been a fling to you
and little more. To me it was
the world I’d built our future on.
You threw me down as though I were
a paperback you’d read and liked
but hardly loved: a hollow book.
Abandoned, desolate, bereft,
I felt my love was quite enough
for both of us. I begged you stay.
You laughed and said, things end, don’t weep,
discard one book and start another.
You left without a second glance.
I thought ours was a True Romance.

Richard Fleming

What a pity, about Aunt Kitty - Tony Bradley

Aunt Kitty used to stay with us,
for a fortnight, once a year
after 2 weeks of her Scrabble
we’d had enough, of the crafty old dear.

She’d bring her own Scrabble set with her
and with it, her own set of rules
but every game, she’d move the goalposts
and make us all look like fools.

She liked to play for money, not a lot
we’d start maybe with a pound in the kitty
but she’d win, almost every game
raking in the quids, saying "what a pity."

Last year, sadly, her eyesight failed
so no more Scrabble, for poor Aunt Kitty
Scrabble was her life, so she passed away
we miss her shenanikins, and "what a pity."

Tony Bradley

Diet Chocolate - V. Bean

Monday morning, it’s chocolate time
mustn’t forget the washing, on the line
Monday lunchtime, chocolate again
just a few squares, well, make it ten
Tuesday morning, . . chocolate . .yes
Tuesday lunchtime fish, no chocolate
Wednesday comes, I’ll have some chocolate
Teatime now. .oh look, we’ve got chocolate
Wednesday night, I had a dream about, . . .chocolate
Thursday lunchtime, we ran out of food,
but luckily, we found some chocolate.
Friday morning, a mouse in the kitchen
the little bugger was eating our chocolate
Friday evening, we caught the mouse,
let’s eat the mouse that ate our chocolate.
Saturday, fell asleep, eating my chocolate
had to wash my clothes, the chocolate melted
Sunday morning, no chocolate, on a fast . .
Sunday lunchtime, fasted 3 hours, now, . .
chocolate, at last.

V. Bean

The Rhyme of the Obstinate Boy - Tony Gardner

I rested so sad and downhearted
In the fields where the buttercups grow
Where the cows chewed the cud and then farted
The only music they know
The drone of the flies was sweet buzzing
And the Crows were a-cawing on high
Then I thought once again of my cousin
Who I last saw in Ardingly
He was chewing the grass and chanting
The Rhyme of the Obstinate Boy
Who refused to say Grace at the table
But was full of such curious joy
I do not pretend to have knowledge
Of such wonderful words that are said
But I try to keep on bib bib bobbing
And to keep my fingertips red
So that's why I sit in the stubble
Where the cows fart and buttercups grow
Sad and depressed and downhearted
It's the only joy that I know
     Know know know
         Know know know

Tony Gardner