Well, cherished offspring, it was basically a time of four-letter words. So here are five of them, in a poem. We were almost clean out of punctuation when I wrote it, but I’m sure you can still make sense of it. There’s a passing reference to Thomas Stearns in it, but don’t think I’m getting above myself. I know my limitations. I’m still calling it a poem though, or five.
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Quintet for a Quiet Pandemonium
News
Strange news from a distant land A slow tsunami ripples unseen in a far-off ocean A trickle of news drips unregarded into our news-feeds Stories the apocalyptic stuff of movies Rumours alien foodstuffs from unhygienic markets News strange distant unconnected consumed glancing briefly up from our TV dinners Eyes return from television to dinner unconcerned familiar foods from trusted providers low in sugar gluten-free fats and salt accurately recorded We are what we eat safe Weeks later holiday snaps loiter between phone and cloud scrolled carelessly in a carefree moment Now-distant memories captured further east trips and visits destinations driven by offspring studying in their global village free hugs at the crossing in Shibuya frenzied shopping down the hill at Harajuku fleeting cherry blossom in Ueno Park timeless temples in a futuristic conurbation How we chuckled posing miming with paper masks on the Yamanoto line What droll imitation of millions moving through the metropolis masked and mouthless commuters conveying a sense of other in a city of quite something else foreign to our open-faced lives experienced in a moment but only in passing Days later a strange message from a closer land neighbours almost Message almost lost amongst savings on airport parking offers of unsolicited affection webinars you cannot miss the usual torrent of junk mail Message found amongst electronic bids for second-hand clothes queries of holiday souvenirs offloaded Written in the most headless hopeless horror of the moment Sent when the tsunami is bearing right down on top of you Aiutaci per favore!! Are you in Japan? For the love of God, send Avigan. We are dying here.
Home
The fields are ploughed and scattered no good seed yet to bind them Brown fragile earth light and purposeless agitated whipped up bundled carried high and fast billowing waves of wind crashing over fences and foliage encasing windows with an impenetrable glaze inserting and insinuated into hair eyes and nostrils driving the locked-down housebound blindly homewards soiled and sandy And in the invisible air when it stills still a clear and present danger What we once touched we can no longer safely touch Where we once went we can no longer go Who we once met we can no longer meet still silent alone in a still turning world but where the dance is never a tango nor a quickstep but a sidestep an after you or before you but never with you Stillness broken only by the noise of numbers the crescendos of first and second waves ever more tallies kept of our mortality calculations made of our fragilities trundled in on gurneys and graphs left in rank corridors awaiting an eventual salvation The value of what we value is measured by the emptiness of a shelf The value of who we value is measured by our presence on a doorstep Applause unpaused in a street full of strangers Neighbours acknowledged on a road full of dangers This ribbon of a village without a bow pulled taut and tight connected but dispersed long rooted but populated with separateness and transience Steps taken weekly to spread only the message Steps taken closer towards a distance less anti-social Learning to convey meanings through heads nodded eyelines creased a hesitant hand raised waving and behind smiles masked a message of thanks and hope garnered by the clapping of hands
Work
She said
you find this much too easy
setting up base camp in our basement
directing operations from our dining room table
commuting each day to a spare bedroom
clean shaven
but barely dressed
I said
living inside this head
is never easy
and you have not seen
what I have seen
But actually
I am honoured
to have seen what I have
privileged glimpses
unintended or shared
into the lives of others
décor from different decades
questionable wallpaper
cluttered rooms or sparseness
carelessly filed physical formats of music
laundry unlaundered
noises off
drinks delivered
a supporting cast of
pets rampant
toddlers implacable
spouse passing by without mention
shotgun slung over his shoulder
Our technical skills have become more skilled
Our private lives have become more private
blurred professionally now
faded out to corporate backgrounds
or with shared stock photographs
room and window views
that hint
at unlikely colleague co-habitations
The place of work
is now a place of emptiness
a labyrinth of soundless corridors
doors and windows
barred and shuttered
and yet
in most of its fullness
the work of this place continues
This a place where lives were changed
where lessons were learned
where choices were made
where money was earned
This was a place of comings and goings
of to-ings and fro-ings
of rough and tumble
of shout and mumble
This is a place where questions were asked
and sometimes
were answered
where rumours began
and sometimes
ran free
if not always true
Its rhythm and fluency muffled now
the work of this place
continues
in the ether
on the screen
at the dining room table
in the spare room
or the room shared with spouse or siblings
and at a distance
imperceptibly
but with purpose
lives lessons and choices continue
Life
Nature inhales deeply
breathes out fully
relishes the freshness of the air
the exhaust fumes less travelled
the carbon footprints walking slower
lighter
with a gentler tread
sighs in relief
at the respite we have given it
reclaims the spaces
we have vacated for it
allows its seasons to run on regardless
if a little confused
snowstorms in April
heatwave in May
dazzles and delights
appreciates its wider audience
with less need to do
and more time to watch and see
expands its palate of long-drawn sunsets
refreshes every hue
blends lightly
the mix of air land sea and sky
paints its whin bushes an even brighter shade of yellow
this year
leaves its blossoms on display for just that bit longer too
knowing that if
in any year
we are going to need it or enjoy it more
then this year
is
that year
The therapy cat prowls confidently
fully clothed now
in his newly adopted role
providing succour to his humans
a comforting routine of entertainment offered
and regular demands made
food bowl replenished
treats between meals
fully serviced litter tray
First thing in the day
he throws himself on his back on the bedroom floor
legs akimbo
luring in waking human hands
to ruffle his stomach
scrag him pleasantly around the neck
He grinds his jaw on window patrol
rapid staccato yelps alerts to an intruder
daring to linger
by the edge of his kingdom
Throws himself four feet in the air
clatters claws against glass
and in a hasty flutter of wings
sends the pigeon soaring skywards
raises too
a comforted chuckle in human throats
He searches the warmest
most inconvenient places to rest
settles with languid ease
legs extended
paws crossed
a contented throaty purr
vibrates an invitation for a gentle grooming
now please
He promotes home-working well-being
guards against excessive screen time
lies on keyboards
blocks webcams with his most bushy of tails
purrs deafeningly close to the microphone
Job done
until
an outside door left ajar
a gust of wind from the unscreened world
brushes past his feline face
and his Achilles heel
Fresh air ruffles his mind
like infected air the minds of those he lives with
sleep patterns forever disrupted
terrors never unimagined
childhoods spent learning that the worst things
can happen
Therapy cat needs therapy now
Hope
When the first shot was fired
did they say
We’ll all be home for Christmas
When the first mushroom cloud burst into life
did they think
Soon we will all be safe
When the first lockdown was announced
did you believe
We’ll be back to normal by summer
It was always thus
keen illusions of permanence and safety
frameworks and facades
procedures and processes
with which we
shape build decorate order our lives
carefully constructing structures of the now
built on sands that will often
shift and twist
out of recognition
and far from expectations
lives that are lived in constant denial of the undeniable
always fragile
but determined to be fruitful
joyous
lasting
It was always us
unable to grasp a future that we cannot bear
nor carry imaginable burdens
more than one day at a time
agreeing reluctantly to be our own captors
but only for a while
these few days
this paltry number of weeks
expecting parole after three months
words of release and resolution
when normal returns
safe secure reassuring
illusory
We are further on the journey now
Journey’s end not yet in sight
but hope has jabbed and jagged its way into our hearts
as well as our arms
and though we surely know
the future we strive for is never the present we attain
if it is a better present
than the present now
then that is surely progress
at least
and worth striving for
Red lights near the brae’s peak
warn passing planes to beware
the long arching waves of news
slowly transmitting to a listening world
great undulations of information
peaks and troughs of stories
inundating the airwaves
Wiser now
we should heed the news
watch
note
become aware
hear with compassion
but not bury ourselves beneath mounds of empathy
suffocating
consumed by problems we cannot digest
by fears we need not yet face
but knowing
understanding enough
in our actual now
to take one step
then another
dancing slowly
but determinedly
learning from nature
to adapt and change
to grow into a new normal
to sense the sense of direction
living fully in the now
but with one eye firmly locked on a future
built from lessons learned
Spin Off 