Poems & Virtual Pints

 For the duration of the Covid-19 Restrictions we are in Actual Poems & Virtual Pints mode. 

           Below are the responses to our first challenge in this mode - 'Laugh at the Devil'           

Home, Sweet Home

John Davies

We don’t do any school runs at the break of day

This virus is so catching we have to stay away

The government has told us you need to isolate

Now what on earth will happen to the country-wide birthrate?

The kids all need amusing, what on earth to do?

The neighbours all around us have a similar problem too

We cannot go to see them it’s just not allowed

The parks are all locked up and we cannot form a crowd

We tried the home schooling which wasn’t that much fun

Then, we got a soaking when we went out for a run

We played a while with Lego, then we had a quiz

I let them style my hair and it set into a frizz

Baked ourselves a sponge cake, none left in the store

Came out like India Rubber, you could bounce it on the floor

Whose idea was it to have a pillow fight?

The room was filled with feathers like a snow storm in the night

The shops have all been emptied, all the shelves are bare

Delivery slots are all booked up, it’s just not bloomin’ fair

The toilet rolls have vanished someone bought the lot

A spending spree has hit us we’ve gone and lost the plot

The virus isn’t choosy even Boris has it now

He tried his best to carry on with sweat upon his brow

There is a way to beat it as long as you don’t roam

It can’t get through your doors and walls so simply stay at home!

A Light-Hearted Virus

Dominique Spearey

(With apologies to those for whom this is no joke)

I turn the calendar to face the wall,

remove the clock, no more wake up call

and clean the car, inside and out

because there’ll be no more running about.


It’s such a relief to let yourself go.

Make up? Lipstick? Perfume? Well, no.

Grubby old joggers will do me just fine,

no more washing to put up on the line.


I leave off my watch, I can do as I please.

( That really wasn’t a cough or a sneeze.)

“Elderly people” can’t apply to me,

I’m as fit as a fiddle, it’s plain to see.


Sat on a bench overlooking the sea,

birdsong and breeze comforting me -

oh no! What’s that pong?  It’s the dog poo bin,

overflowing with bags! A right smelly sin


on this beautiful morning so fresh and warm.

I walk on, it’s exercise, so what’s the harm?

Ahtishoo!  Ahtishoo!  It’s hay fever - atchoo-

hay fever, not virus, no it’s NOT an issue……

Covid 19
by Ann Voaden

Covid - worse than the bovid

Mad Cow Disease

So please -

Do what is bidden

Avoid what may be hidden. 

Keep us ALL safe and well. 


Lockdown worldwide

And governments have tried

To guide us

With minimum rules and fuss. 

Stay away from parks. trains and bus, 

But many flout good commonsense.


Covid - worse than the bovid

Mad Cow Disease

So please -

Do what is right

By day and by night. 

Help STOP the blight of this plague. 


Holidays - a Thing of the Past
by Jim Bartlett

Some poetry reminded me
of holidays spent by the sea,

sunsoaked resorts on Turkish shore

of which we can partake no more,


of minarets where wails muezzin;

when rhyming that, this poet gets in

difficulties with his metre,

where femininity's a feature.


But, had he kept it masculine,

might not have got muezzin in.
Iambic Turkish dreams inspire

ghazals of Islam's call to prayer.


But, 'cause I'm rising se'nty nine.
in self is'lation I must rhyme.

Apostrophes here are a pity,

unnecessary were I eighty.


Cruise ships marooned, in ports confined,

and cancelled flights, an awful bind.

We can but dream of foreign lands.

Of holidays we've washed our hands!