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Virus

The sun is shining
But lying a fate that awaits
for some of us.
An insipid virus waits
Ready to pounce
Unannounced.
Some will survive
Some will not
We do not know
if this is our lot.
In the meantime
The sun is shining

Barbara Wright


(photo credit: Daniel J. Schwarz via Unsplash)

Poetry Theme(s):

Currently Popular Poems:

Lichen a Plenty

Lichen a plenty,  With your crispy and crusty Foliose forms Lichen reveals the Hidden substrate beneath. Ashley
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Forever Searching

Search the walls Scan the corridors Express the highs Scribble the lows Writing explores The state of my mind.   Judith  
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A Woodland Ensemble - Psithurism of the Trees.

The plane tree With paper-like rustle Elephant patches And scaly trunk. Memories And mellow whispers Of a darkest tempest Dropping the bass. Constable elms Whispering, suckering saplings Converting To beetle runs beneath. Ash- With minstrel keys playing harmonies masking sinister die back. Crataegus thickets The scratchy rasping may catch you quick. Whispering pines Bend forwards Reaching skywards Splintering the silence. Mother beech With spaltered Marks waltzing And humoresque streaks. Holly reigns in Summer solstice Days shorten And poco a poco winter returns. King of the woods Ships hold Forte and Table fast. Eric
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Hawk Moth

Hawk moth Waiting alone Tenderness revealed, In the Shadow of the Friary. Cushioned wind Stifling air Song thrush Beckons the Spirit of the summer. Afloat with thoughts Memories of Parched earth and forgotten Spheres. Suzanne
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Abbey Stones

Laboured stones Rough stones Stones of dismay Honest stones Pocketed stones Hidden stones Fractured stones Unstable stones Foundation stones Clumsy stones Ancient stones Split stones Abbey stones Stephanie
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Jungle Walk, Henstead Exotic Garden, Suffolk.

Broad-leaved trees, spreading palms, fingers outstretched, shield me from the sun’s heat. Beneath a green umbrella’s shade, the perfect spot on a blistering summer’s day, so cool, serene. Round, fluted lily pads rest flat on inky waters where golden fish glide, finding refuge in silence. A tiny oasis, place of shelter enfolding, embracing me within its safe circumference. Julia Duke
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Counterbalancing

Fleeting sideways glimpses smash a rib I fall silently on my wing repair I despair. Fragments and bones crush a thought I rise and counterbalance a further day. Paula
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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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Covid Funeral Haiku

To an empty room As she told their story The clean air vibrated Clare
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Ash Scar

Grey, lofty, sombre ash Fissured cracks monumental, fraxious ash. Porosity bedded in stone, with far receptive views to craggy tableland plateau. Deaths’ shadows brush a mysterious and scarred graveyard. Amplified crackles of pavements of gloomy fissures, dissolved joints. Bedding planes rubble underfoot, crunch on the broken ridge, speared and bony ash deaths’ whispers a skeletal calling. Stephanie
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