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Lockdown


All shut away we weather a storm
Seeking projects or hobbies not our norm
We are kept away from all we love
Not a kiss or cuddle visit or hug.
For those departed a once happy place
No rhyme or reason age, sex, or race.
The economy takes a downturn
All business closed money we can’t earn.
We all look to a brighter time as we reflect
Remember to complete things we neglect
Lucky we are to have visual means
As we stay in touch talking our dreams.
Things we will do when danger is over
A trip to the beach or lay in fields of clover.
A visit to places we said we would
A fast pace before no time we could.
Make a change to our old style of living
Grateful to life, loss to those that have given.
Give to charity help those in need
Caring is a reward without greed
Those that give without care or thought
Heal those who have lost asking for nought.
To binmen, shopkeepers to all who continued
Give cheers and praise for all they’ve done.
Fearing not for their safety but working as one.
Our children kept home unable to play,
To live and grow in their own carefree way
Missing friends’ school and relations.

Sheridan
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Currently Popular Poems:

Becalmed

I can no longer dot the i’s, nor cross the t’s. A pale haze, like Sunday afternoons, pleasant after a glass of wine too many, drifts across my day. I am at peace. I find myself disposed to acquiesce, content to live life at this gentle pace, content, it seems, with how life’s focus, now diminished, takes on the softened blur of evening light. Something sharp is lost. But the time for mourning it is done. The wind that swelled the sails has dropped, the tide recedes, the fierceness of the sun is quenched, leaving the sunshine’s golden glow that speaks the lateness of the hour. A taste of salt upon my lips - no call for worry or regrets - a bitter-sweet recall of what has gone. Julia Duke
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Change

As  I stand with my feet in the ocean, and look at the setting sun, I think of how many me's, have stood in how many seas, but always stared at the same one. A snapshot of scenes in the movie of me, at various times of my being. A new version of me every single time; the same star I'm always seeing. It fills me with curious wonder, for the places that I may go; And the life that has yet to happen, and the things I have yet to know. Jess
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Seasons

To each a season: the planets Turn in Kepler's gyre, Swelling the mental weather, Fattening the wealth Of light and dark I weekly Feel in my own solitude. To each a season: a death Of what was hard and cold: A burst of sun to break My hoary sadness And gild the shining tower I build around your smile. But let's not talk of sun But speak instead of life And all the things I feel When living through mortality. The lovely times We feast and meagre times We only feed on memories. I have my seasons. Tim Holt-Wilson
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Pandemic

Piecing together all our hopes and dreams, joining the broken fragments of our lives, managing the pain of another loss, full of joy when finally together, society’s fabric hangs by a thread. Julia Duke
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A Way of Life

It’s become a way of life this summer, the canvas bag slung over my shoulder hoping not to need it hoping the sky will stay blue long enough to get a walk by the sea. It’s become a way of life this summer, wearing my green jeans, wearing a matching sweatshirt to keep the wind out, wearing green wherever possible to match my green cagoule in case I need it. It’s becoming a way of life, it’s true, this life of uncertainty which nags at the back of your mind and keeps you constantly looking up the weather on your phone. It’s a way of life, this anxiety which sends me scurrying for help when it mushrooms out of control in the middle of the night. Julia
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River Stour Haiku

Wandering the bend, Bending around the wonder Meander reveals. Freda
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From one frog to humans, or 'Go dig a Pond'

Burnt summer, Another hot summer Without a drop of water I wait It’s only June. With ochre hives And forgotten tones Of emerald green Parched fields and thorny hegderows. A dead speckled wood I’d rather eat fresh Is on the menu today, tomorrow unknown. A bleak summer ahead, Our long forgotten cousins Creep steathily unseen Waiting silently for clouds. A buttercup-yellow Marsh marigold forest Croaked from Floating reeds and choked crispy chickweed. Andrew Toms
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On The Beach

Mid-tide, I lay bemused, sun and breeze upon my face, pebbles hard and damp beneath my back, at peace; my ears and mind filled with boom and roar and rush and grate, eternal sound, unhurried pace of everlasting ocean, as its waves gather their brown relentless selves to crash upon the shoreline, white flurries marking their landing place. In that hypnotic space I wander back and forth in thought, that from the sea we came and that the sea will still remain, when, maybe our human race no longer walks the shores and no longer looks in awe at the ocean’s incomprehensible face. Jan Armstrong Photo by Mia Nicoll via Unsplash
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A Light Touch

Like a single pearl on a lupin leaf I sparkle, motionless, waiting for you to discover me. I like to tease a little, tickling bare limbs, making you shiver with delight. I like to be noticed. In summer I slip softly, silently into the bare earth, quenching thirst, satisfying desire. Winter storms excite me, lashing against windows, whipping up seas, splashing in gutters. You can have too much of me, you say. With scarcity I’m a precious jewel. Over-abundance brings disaster. Julia Duke
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Vivacious Freedom

With vivacious freedom I release My inner voice Thomas
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