My covid story I rehearse … I tell its story In rhyming verse. To be in England Now April’s here; Come lockdown’s end I’ll give a cheer. I’ve lived alone In a bee-loud glade, And sung the song That covid made. Now let me dance With the daffodils, And no more seek For frills and thrills. A holiday I can’t afford; I’ll stay at home, Not travel abroad. A cold winter We’ve had of it; Let life begin, Lickety split.
With appreciative nods in the direction of…Robert Browning; W.B.Yeats; William Wordsworth; T.S.Eliot
Posted in contemplation, humour, Language, People, Poetry, Social History, Verse, Writing |
Tagged April, bee-loud lade, Covid, daffodils, dance, holidays, lockdown, song, Winter
Each day this week I am publishing a short 4-line verse, each one commencing with a well-known line, sometimes adapted to suit the context, from a renowned published poem. The general theme is that of Isolation.
( ‘April is the cruelest month’ From ‘The Waste Land by T.S.Eliot )
On T. S. Eliot: Pastiche #2
April is the cruellest month
But I’m glad that I’m alive.
I tell myself I’m fit and fine,
You’d never guess I’m eighty-five.
Posted in contemplation, Language, People, Poetry, Verse, Writing |
Tagged age, April, cruel, fit, month, pastiche, T.S.Eliot, well