Kevin Michael Bloor

In Lockdown Days

There is no schooling anymore,

nor seeing friends we saw before.

For teachers, teaching’s tide is turning

and bridge to learning’s broke and burning.

 

There\'s no safe haven anymore,

no sanctuary on any shore

from savage storms and sea’s tsunamis,

and plagues, now marching in like armies.

 

There is no freedom anymore

locked down behind our own front door.

Our government, we know, is trying,

but truth they tell us sounds like lying!

 

There is no good news anymore,

just bad news, which begins to bore:

cruel cops and curfews, protest, pleading,

race-riot-rage, and black boys bleeding.

 

There’s no containing anymore

this virus; it\'s a senseless chore.

Of safe advice we\'re sick and tired;

we\'re restless, wrung out, worried, wired!

 

There is no hanging anymore

\'round shops and parks; the world’s at war

with Covid-19’s cruel contagion,

mad mocker of the mighty nation.

 

There is no meaning anymore,

now dissonance does darken door.

And symmetry, that rhymed with reason,

has turned on us with traitor’s treason.

 

There is no laughter anymore,

just mocking mirth, and furthermore:

all joy just jangles like it’s joking;

good cheer, we cherished, now is choking.

 

There are no lovers anymore,

no god or goddess to adore.

The passion in our hearts is chilling;

our veins, with pestilence, is filling.

 

There is no future anymore;

an open grave’s the open door.

And hope, that dove of peace, is lying

in lockdown days, on deathbed dying.