Tuesday, 31 March 2020

Covid-19 (no.3)





How long is long enough? Count the phases
Of the moon, reckon the seasons, or try
Some novel measure. This time will slip by,
Even a most dread-filled moment passes
As winter with all its flooding has done,
And though spring proves perfidious, with wind
That bites and sharper squalls of hail, we find
Our narrowed world glistered by rape seed sun.

Let us all spend Easter at home this year,
Breaking bread and passing the wine, sharing
Comfort and anxiety: what’s scaring
Us is not being able to see what we fear.

Yet green globin pulses through all that grows,
And come Good Friday, I’ll plant potatoes.

                                                                                                                  Dave Alton


Wednesday, 25 March 2020

Covid-19 (N0.2)




Spring sun risen from winter’s tomb,
Daffodils invigorate us,
Meanwhile in bleak, sterile rooms
Lie the breathless respirators.
It’s warm enough, so it appears,
To crowd together in the stores
And, while grabbing for bread and beers,
Share in passing the deadly spores.

Seedlings are sprouting in their trays,
About the beds shoots pushing through,
Tend the garden these troubled days,
Close the gate on the gaumless few.

Depends on what we cultivate;
There’s choice or chance, free will or fate.

                                                                                                             Dave Alton

Wednesday, 18 March 2020

Covid-19



There are no rats streaming off from rigged ships,
No bell clanging crier calling out the dead,
No trundling overburdened tumbrils led
By masked spectres as the malady grips.
No crosses daubed over doors, though handles
And handshakes could prove fatal. Fast as fear
This plague flies, a traveller’s souvenir
Round the carousel of the world, dandles
Life and death without intent or purpose
Other than its own being. City shaken,
Markets deserted and futures tumbling.
The preachers of profit are at a loss,
While pubs are closing, last orders taken.
Lock all the doors…but the walls are crumbling.

                                                                                 Dave Alton