2020 - Ian Duquemin



I thank two thousand and twenty 
As it really wasn't that bad
The gifts that it gave were plenty 
If you think of the treasures we had
Like silence, and time for thinking 
Rest for our weary bones
Love to share with our families
In the comfort we call our homes 
Air to breathe, unpolluted 
Strangers now saying hello 
Helping each other, and lending a hand 
The stars once again on show
A year is not something to squander 
As another is now in our past 
So I'm hoping the next one will be much the same
And the lessons we're learning will last 

Ian Duquemin

Christmas 2020 - Trudie Shannon



Mary was pregnant.
She didn’t know
The how, the why or the when
Until the angel came and told her the news.
His mask was a bit askew
And she could have sworn that a bit of beard was poking out
Seemed unlikely but..
So you’re having a baby he said
His voice was muffled as all voices are
Through fabric.
She thought he said baby but hoped he hadn’t
I mean she and Joseph hadn’t, …..you know
I mean what with covid and all that
They’d barely been able to be in the same room
Their dwellings were tiny hardly regulation two metres.
It’s all very holy the angel said
This Virgin birth stuff and you’re the chosen one.
Mary somehow didn’t feel special just shocked
And half wished Hannah was in her shoes
She wasn’t fond of Hannah.
When the time came
She was straddled across some donkey’s back
Seasick with swaying and longing for a bed.
When they got to that place, a lousy stable for the birth of a God
She felt both outraged and couldn’t care less.
All those exercises, deep breathing Hah!
With a mask on!
But she did it.
She grimaced and groaned and birthed her son
And laid him in the cow’s manger, swaddled and masked
She’d made sure that in her layette
She’d stitched a dozen tiny masks but
She felt irked knowing her baby would not know his mother’s smile.
Then the shepherds all turned up, headdresses swathed about their faces
Bearing a couple of ewes and a lamb
And then the kings too, each one sporting a bejewelled mask.
And such  timely gifts
A two metre rule, a miniature jewelled mask
And a bottle of hand sanitiser scented with frankincense.
Mary was exhausted, rested her heavy head on Joseph’s shoulder
She could tell it was Joseph, he smelled of wood
The shepherds smelled of sheep
And the Kings just smelled mighty rich.
The baby mewed in his manger
Mary lifted him and raised his mask and he suckled
And it was Christmas
And the angel on high sang oh so loud his Gloria’s to the world
Mask free and sporting a luxuriant beard.

Trudie Shannon

Image : after Pixabay - CCXpistiavos


December - Tony Gardner



There was frost this morning on roofs so dull and white

A chill outside was trying to come in here and bite

Then the sun made an appearance and it faded out the rime

But couldn't raise the temperature, it's well past summertime

The day was dry but sunny though the temps just wouldn't rise

And the wind's been cool but easy yet it chills you cold inside.

But tonight the wind is howling and the hail is shooting down

It seems that Winter's serious in spreading misery 'round

But it can't kill childish belief learned sixty years ago

Tonight Santa and the reindeer are flying through the snow.

Tony Gardner

Image : Pixabay - Prawny

Shepherds - Richard Fleming



They wore masks when they arrived,
maintained social distance,
looked for hand-sanitiser 
but couldn’t find any
(the stable was ill-equipped),
fell to their knees
hardly knowing why
as, overhead, the brightest star,
their lodestone,
hung suspended.

Richard Fleming


Well-Heeled - Donald Keyman



With not a twinge of guilt
In designer house custom built
Virtue signallers one and all
Watching the poor go to the wall
Vapid celebs with no sense of shame
Pose for selfies by a private pool again
They’ve got everything they could ever want
Off the back off their silicon front
On the red carpet at a Hollywood bash
Urging the poor to give all their cash
Their hypocrisy makes me sick
They must think we’re flipping thick.

Donald Keyman

Image : Pixabay - Engin Akyurt

Is This A Cold? - Kathy Figueroa




I’ve got the sniffles and “the runs” too
Is this a cold, or maybe the flu?
I’m so tired ...should I crawl back in bed
...Or drink more tea and take zinc, instead?
 
I’m feeling hot, my throat’s getting sore,
Why can’t I taste the food anymore?
Is this a COVID-19 attack?
...Or am I a hypochondriac?
 
I really don’t know what’s ailing me
And hope that it’s just an allergy
But I’ll still stay home and isolate
My regular life will have to wait

Kathy Figueroa

Image : Banksy

Laptop Blues - Richard Fleming


It’s a stand-off.
I try to stare it down
while it stares back, unblinking,
its flat, inscrutable face
giving nothing away.
I must stay focused.
I’ve won these battles
in the past
but this time
it’s got the upper hand.
What I need now
is the doorbell,
an unexpected visitor,
so that I
can break
eye-contact
and walk away
without losing face.


Richard Fleming

Xmas Won’t Be Cancelled - Diane Scantlebury


Santa’s sleigh’s been decommissioned
Rudolf furloughed, left in a field to roam,
Overweight, over seventy, Santa should be shielding
Boris has told him to stay safe at home,
When travel corridors closed, the final fly in the ointment,
Santa devised a cunning plan,
To bring some cheer and avoid disappointment,
He’d disguise his sleigh as a shiny, red delivery van,

Xmas wouldn’t be cancelled by Covid
He was determined not to be beaten,
When there were presents to be delivered
And mince pies to be eaten,
He’d follow the rules
As he set about his task,
And over his beard 
Wear a tinsel trimmed mask,
He’d put each parcel by the door 
Ring the bell in every instance,
Stand well back when he heard footsteps
To keep a social distance,

Santa would do his duty
As he’d done every year with pride,
He’d make the nation’s children happy
When virus forced them to stay inside,
For if Xmas isn’t to be cancelled
We all have our part to play,
Listen to the science and be sensible
So that brave Santa can save the day!

Diane Scantlebury

Theatre of Bad Dreams - Stephen A. Roberts


We played to empty houses when we started out
Now it’s just the same because no one is about
No more cues for the actors to enter
Just exit stage left, right and centre
The show now must not go on 
In crippled and Covidious Albion
Do everything the government asks
Bring on the mummers in costume masks
Do not cough and do not drink
This thing is more dangerous than you think
Keeping out the diseased hordes
Means that players can’t tread the boards
No more showings of Macbeth
In case the audience catches their death
The future now is so uncertain
The theatre faces the final curtain
And as the lights go down on Piccadilly
I rehearse my final soliloquy

Stephen A. Roberts

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