On This Covid Pandemic
The Chinese had a phrase for it –
‘May you live in interesting times.’
Double- edged, somewhat inscrutable,
As I read between its lines.
Intended as a curse it is said;
Perhaps we’re paying for our crimes?
As we live this life not led before –
Perdition’s paradigm.
THE ITCH
There’s a joy in scratching an itch
Which increases the more that I do it
The more that I try
I ask myself why
Can’t I give my whole future to it.
And when I eventually try
To give up the scratching, then why
Does this damned itch’s curse
Get so Intensely worse
That I must scratch it again or I’ll die?
The Poet: WHB – 2020
There once was a poet from Ross
Who said “Do not mess with me, cos,
I will write you a verse
Which will contain a curse,
And you’ll never get over the loss.”
An Indian poet from Mysore
Said, “Do not mess with me, or,
I will write you a verse,
And you’ll soon need a hearse,
To take you to knock on Hell’s door.”
A poet from Irish Killarney
Had kissed that famed stone at Blarney.
He wrote endless verses
All riddled with curses,
Enough to frighten an army.
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