Fresh Air Walk During a Pandemic

Fresh Air Walk During a Pandemic

There was rain that would not touch me,
followed by sunlight that surrounded me
but kept a respectful distance.

Even pollen seemed deferential.
Skirting the edge of the trail,
passing hikers offered a simple hello.

The birds treated it like any other day,
their distance a product of instinct,
mine a matter of discretion.

Cedar branches swayed in the breeze,
flinging leftover rain droplets,
a reminder that things could be normal again.

This is my poem for Day 2 of National/Global Poetry Writing Month.
It’s off-prompt, but I’m sharing it at
napowrimo.net.

Also shared with Open Link Night #263 at dVerse Poets Pub.

When Will I See?

When Will I See?

Different, this distance
in time of sickness. Neighbor
more distant than new moon
beyond my reach.

Within sight again,
soon enough, will it taunt me
with its presence, my neighbor
still out of sight?

This is my second response to Poetics: Now I Can…, from Mish at dVerse PoetsPub.
She offers the haiga shown above, with a quote by Mizuta Masahide,
“Barn’s burnt down, now I can see the moon.”

transmission remission ~ video poem

transmission remission

infection
               detection
manifestation

               insertion
conversion
               proliferation

reflection
               discretion
avoiding infection

               convention
detention
               behavior correction

solution
               concession
new orientation

               immersion
retention
               social suspension

connection
               deletion
self-isolation

               relation
cessation
               social recession

vexation
               sublation
full sanitization

               transmission
remission
               social reintroduction

Warped

Warped

I walk the walls,
my head around the corner
that lies beyond the door.
Precarious in this chair on the ceiling,
I cling to the fan that should not be
on the floor above me, spinning
me in starts and stops. In a world
of contradictions, I touch nothing
and everything at the same time.

Vertigo, my isolation.

This poem is my response to Reena’s Exploration Challenge #126,
where the theme is Isolation

Waking to the Truth ~ #writephoto


Waking to the Truth

Each passing day finds hope ever dimmer,
the happiness that once was ours shrouded
with darkness, and that bright horizon
now beyond our reach, making it harder to find
the truth within these lambent dreams.

This is my response to Thursday Photo Prompt: Lambent #writephoto
at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo, with her photo.

Credit to Tallis Steelyard (Jim Webster) for the term lambent dreams

COVID-45 ~ video poem

COVID-45

It’s simple, really, your method of bending
the base instincts of the masses.
Convince them that yours is the one true reality.
Smother them with promises, but deliver the opposite.
No one in their right mind would replicate you,
yet the pool of hosts open to contamination
by your vile presence grows exponentially.
If only they would wash their hands of you.

Surrounded, as your are, by sycophants,
the only thing missing is a crown.

This is my response to Poetics: “Bartender, I’d like to close out my tab-oo,”
the prompt from Amaya at dVerse Poets Pub.