World Poetry Day 21st March 2020

World Poetry Day began in 1999 with the aim of promoting poetry around the world.

It’s an opportunity to appreciate the power of poetry and how it captures the creative spirit.

Poetry is one of our most treasured forms of expression. It can be simple or complex, challenge traditional ideas or convey love and loss.

In the light of current unprecedented events, my poem had to be about Coronavirus.


We are at War


There’s a new flu, Covid-19.

The origin? Bat or pangolin.

They say it began in Wuhan.

Now the whole world’s in self-quarantine.


Virus attacks lungs and airways.

Consistent cough and temperature high.

Cruise ships stranded for days and days.

‘Bring us home,’ the passengers cry.


Wear a mask, cough into your sleeve.

Elbow bumping becomes the new norm.

Elderly to self-isolate,

joining those with weakened immune.


Shoppers fight over toilet rolls.

Queues for rice, pasta and spaghetti.

Hand sanitizers all but gone.

Supermarket shelves left empty.


Social distancing, wearing masks.

Boris tells us to work from home,

Wash our hands to Happy Birthday,

Tourists get drunk in Benidorm.


Flights are grounded, the borders closed.

News reports, increased fatalities.

Pleas go out for ventilators.

Dow Jones fall breaks Economy.


We are at War.

Jacob and George are Seven

It’s hard to believe it has been seven years since we lost our beautiful boys, my grandsons Jacob and George. Granny remembers you and misses you every day.

On Sunday Josh and I had a Smugglers Adventure in Hastings. We’re collaborating on a Smugglers story and needed to do some research. This poem was inspired by our day out. I believe Josh’s cousins, Jacob and George were not too far away.


Smugglers’ Adventure


Jacob and George, now you are seven,

We wanted to ask, are there smugglers in Heaven?

Please can we smuggle you out for the day?

We’re going to Hastings, come with us to play.


Josh riding shotgun,

Jacob, scoot over,

There’s plenty of room,

Make space for your brother.


On the trip down the chat is football,

How Arsenal thrashed Watford two – nil.

You support QPR?

Let’s say no more…


Fishermen’s huts and smelly fish,

George is pinching his nose,

Jacob jumps from high sea wall,

We hold hands to cross the road.


Take selfies on the cliff railway,

East Hill boasts a splendid view.

But it’s West Hill that we want,

Who knew that there were two?


Hairy Jack tells a spooky tale,

The tunnels feel like sand.

Smuggler rattles door of gaol,

Josh covers ears with his hands.


Arcade claw and fishing game,

Tubs of two pence pieces.

Granite drops from giant crane,

Into the sea it splashes.


Throwing pebbles, do the floss,

Scrummy chips at Blue Dolphin.

Crazy golf, a hole in one,

Seagulls and trampolines.


Water bottle flips and Fortnite,

Merits of Switch v. PlayStation.

You’re tired now and, despite the fight,

It’s time to return you to Heaven.