Painting by R. Pistoni‘At Sea with the Virus’ by Damian Robin The Society December 15, 2020 Covid-19, Culture, Humor, Poetry 8 Comments based on a true story My wife’s in bed with lowered head and even lower mood. Her chin’s on her chest and she’s not impressed though at least she’s eating her food. Her smiles are few (one’s way overdue), this downtime’s, I hope, but a blip. I’ll leave it at that or I’ll feel like a rat on the brim of a sinking ship . . . . . . But . . . . . . but . . . we’re not to be sneezed at by a bug like a kumquat pierced with pomander-ball cloves . . . We’re weath’ring the weather, we’ve hist’ry together, we’ve survived in old ways, bays, and coves . . . . . . Butt . . . . . . butt . . . . . . As time goes on, old times seem gone, the effort of joy makes us weary. Invisible fears weighed down by tiers . . . we’re battered and blinkered and bleary . . . My wife’s soon depressed, my son gets depressed, my daughter’s on anti-depressants. It’s what you get if you bubble and fret in a family of close obsessants . . . But O, and also, each brain and torso invisibly stormed and demeaned by the careless spill adapted to kill by that communist dragon fiend. Damian Robin is a writer and editor living in the United Kingdom. NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)Trending now: 8 Responses Jeff Eardley December 15, 2020 Damian, I enjoyed reading this. Perfectly timed for the forthcoming misery of a possible lockdown Christmas. You have summed up what we are all feeling today. As a friend of mine often remarks, when there is light at the end of the tunnel, it normally means a train coming the other way. Reply C.B. Anderson December 15, 2020 A very nice image there, Jeff. And good of you not to have taken credit for it when you could’ve. As cynical as this might sound, you have a friend worth listening to. Many of my own friends have gone over to the dark side, and it will take some time to repair the old relationships. Reply Damian Robin December 18, 2020 Cheers Jeff, I don’t think there’ll be a Christmas lockdown as that would make for the opposite of crowd control. A chilling tunnel image. If only such trains had a public timetable and kept to it. Reply C.B. Anderson December 15, 2020 Yeah, but my butt hurts from sitting down all day reading about this virus which kills very few but has allowed the power-hungry to destroy state and national economies and revoke the natural freedoms we grew up expecting to enjoy. But I guess a billion Chinese can’t be wrong. There have been revolutions before, and there will be revolutions again. God willing, we shall be so lucky as for that to happen — anywhere and at any time. Reply Damian Robin December 18, 2020 Sniffled viruses may kill and go, And revolutions clang old toll gates shut As through our shattered windows changes blow . . . But no rebuttal for a hurting butt. Reply Margaret Coats December 16, 2020 Damian, the rhythm is rollicking enough to ride over its rough spots. It suggests a light tone, but you change tone in each stanza, it seems, creating an overall mood of uneasy uncertainty. The last line settles it all unpleasantly. Structured with care in a very unusual manner, but quite effectively. I’ve come back to it several times, and think it repays reading again and again. Reply Damian Robin December 18, 2020 Thanks M for a technical overview of what came fairly natural to me. Very useful, positive, and affirming. Sometimes refining only makes a piece 2% better and kills the spontaneity.. I’m touched and grateful. Reply C.B. Anderson December 19, 2020 Yes, Damian, Maggie C. never leaves a stone unturned, nor ever misses a beat. Her character reminds me of what I’ve always said about good whisky: Scotch that’s twice as expensive is only 10% better than the standard expression. This is due to both the principle of diminishing returns and to the fact that age is not an automatic sign of merit. She is ageless and has learned how never to waste a word. Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
Jeff Eardley December 15, 2020 Damian, I enjoyed reading this. Perfectly timed for the forthcoming misery of a possible lockdown Christmas. You have summed up what we are all feeling today. As a friend of mine often remarks, when there is light at the end of the tunnel, it normally means a train coming the other way. Reply
C.B. Anderson December 15, 2020 A very nice image there, Jeff. And good of you not to have taken credit for it when you could’ve. As cynical as this might sound, you have a friend worth listening to. Many of my own friends have gone over to the dark side, and it will take some time to repair the old relationships. Reply
Damian Robin December 18, 2020 Cheers Jeff, I don’t think there’ll be a Christmas lockdown as that would make for the opposite of crowd control. A chilling tunnel image. If only such trains had a public timetable and kept to it. Reply
C.B. Anderson December 15, 2020 Yeah, but my butt hurts from sitting down all day reading about this virus which kills very few but has allowed the power-hungry to destroy state and national economies and revoke the natural freedoms we grew up expecting to enjoy. But I guess a billion Chinese can’t be wrong. There have been revolutions before, and there will be revolutions again. God willing, we shall be so lucky as for that to happen — anywhere and at any time. Reply
Damian Robin December 18, 2020 Sniffled viruses may kill and go, And revolutions clang old toll gates shut As through our shattered windows changes blow . . . But no rebuttal for a hurting butt. Reply
Margaret Coats December 16, 2020 Damian, the rhythm is rollicking enough to ride over its rough spots. It suggests a light tone, but you change tone in each stanza, it seems, creating an overall mood of uneasy uncertainty. The last line settles it all unpleasantly. Structured with care in a very unusual manner, but quite effectively. I’ve come back to it several times, and think it repays reading again and again. Reply
Damian Robin December 18, 2020 Thanks M for a technical overview of what came fairly natural to me. Very useful, positive, and affirming. Sometimes refining only makes a piece 2% better and kills the spontaneity.. I’m touched and grateful. Reply
C.B. Anderson December 19, 2020 Yes, Damian, Maggie C. never leaves a stone unturned, nor ever misses a beat. Her character reminds me of what I’ve always said about good whisky: Scotch that’s twice as expensive is only 10% better than the standard expression. This is due to both the principle of diminishing returns and to the fact that age is not an automatic sign of merit. She is ageless and has learned how never to waste a word.
