There’s a croissant for my breakfast
Spaghetti bolognaise for lunch
A Hungarian tart for teatime
Danish pastries for my brunch
I Am Eighty
singing birds and lovely sun
dancing flowers, breeze, heaven
outside much much fun
I would like run run run
barring me this lockdown zone
I am eighty and I am alone
Anxious Days
Dark Circles around my eyes
Work through the long long nights
Couldn’t even see the starry nights.
I watched the patients brought in
A continuous stream running in.
Coughing and spluttering barely breathing.
Window Peer
I think it’s week six though I can’t be sure,
Before, when I thought last, I found out it was more.
I can see it’s a long time from the length of my hair,
When I turn my neck I can feel it on my collar, there.
Calling It A Day
As the day pulls the sun down,
I rest my violin, sitting as it is, chestnut brown.
Still keen about music sheets,
my search goes on for tunes with a good beat.
Together
Jackie Darnbrough, Mohamed Saloo, Jem Tovey, Tahera Mayat, Colin Hicks, Mohammed Barber, Mark Griffin, Sophie Patel, Mohammed Variava and Bilal Saloo
A beautiful soul has left us
A legacy full of care
Wise words to teach acceptance
Spread compassion everywhere
Ode To A Virus
Corona doesn’t care if you’re atheist or Anglican,
Whether you’re a Buddhist or have visited the Vatican.
This pathogen’s not fussy, there’s no discernment in a virus,
Not bothered who you vote for or that you don’t like Miley Cyrus.
Mother Nature’s Nemesis
Mother Earth embraces hope, in the absence of her enemy.
She smiles at our insignificance, our arrogance, the irony.
For Mother Nature flourishes, as we battle to survive,
She struts her stuff with joyous pride, as we contemplate our lives.
We Will Meet Again
Can you see the silent skies
and quiet streets and haunted eyes
Have you heard the expert voices taking charge, restricting choices
Do you feel the pain of nations
Counting death in isolation.
Do you smell the cleaner air and hear the birds and hearts that care.
Crocus
Winter’s darkened days
now stretching minute by minute
to meet a lightened sky.
And I emerge slowly,
verdant tip of spring,
peeping from behind
cold glass