The times they are a changing

Mar. 16, 2020

Early days of school closure. My “seomra” is my new classroom. I’ve been opted out of travelling to Manchester for the rest of the term. So all seven of us are at home group distancing. Still in a whirl at the speed of it all.

I am in awe of all the front line healthcare staff around the world who are working to keep us safe and care for us when we are not. They have my gratitude, support and respect.

There is plenty to keep us all busy and I still have a full programme of writing and reading to get through. It feels a bit surreal though and not a little disconcerting.

I have decided that this is a time for lighter to downright bad poetry to keep us amused and occupied. Here is my first venture.

I wish everyone who reads this to be safe and well with good support to help when needed.

Mar. 16, 2020

Young boys run loudly wildly through the house
flying Lego’s newly found killer drone

Grandad in his shed fingers the mouse
of his computer sitting reflecting alone

Television starts up Halloween Two
bringing the scared boys closer to Dad

Mother sits surrounded by not a few
Lego strewing the carpet not getting mad

Gran has just left the house on a visit
to one recovered from surgery not bright

A baby sits in it all quite spirited
squawking and bouncing in pure delight

The walls look like they might close in
slowly at first then rapidly squeezing

seven occupants reducing them to thin
rakes complete with brains freezing

Dirty delph is mounting as are calls
texts and mails checking that we’re alright

A new order descending in these walls
hopefully in peace and without fight

Peter Clarke