2.6 Finishing Line


I’ve done it,
I’ve crossed it,
My finishing line,
26 Poems are written,
Each a new line,
The clock has been counting,
And down went the time,
26 Poems were written,
In 2.6 hours of time.
***
Thank you for reading,
My London Marathon,
Please think of giving,
To those in need.

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2.5 Finishing Straight


That’s it,
I’m on the home straight,
My last leg,
The Mall if you will.
***
Although I’m not panting,
Or have a strain on my knees,
My brain is lagging,
And my thoughts are on cheese.
***
I am not athletic,
If I run I would wheeze,
But I can also say,
These poems were not a breeze.

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2.4 Last Ditch Plea


My time is almost up,
And there isn’t much left to say,
Thank you for running,
My marathon with me.
Before I close off,
With the final two poems,
Please let me take,
Two moments of your time.
There is a lot you can do,
This fight needs you,
Don’t be a covidiot,
Don’t believe what’s not true.
We need to do this together,
Shoulder to shoulder,
And remember the mantra,
Stay Home, Stay Safe, Save Lives.

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2.3 Global Pandemic, Local Solutions


To some world leaders,
This is a competition,
A global pandemic,
Being treated with local solutions.
***
If this was a cancer,
It would be like,
Treating the source cells,
And ignoring the spread site.
***
Or in another way,
If this was root rot,
It would be cutting the roots,
And forgetting the top.
***
We have a global pandemic,
With world leaders acting alone,
What does that say,
For the solutions going on?

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2.2 Exercise


Never has a walk,
Sounded so exciting,
As when you can call it,
Government Sanctioned Exercise.
***
It sounds like a task,
Something you must do,
For queen and country,
And government too.
***
So I take my leave,
And bid you adieu,
My time has come,
To go walking for you.

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2.1 What Day Is It?


Ever feel the weeks are becoming one?
Five work days followed by two off days,
But you can never remember which you are on.
***
Today was a work day of that I am sure,
But what type of day could tomorrow be,
Another work day that I must endure?
***
Living for the weekend has lost its meaning,
I am now living for the two off days,
That sit somewhere in between eating and sleeping.

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2.0 Covidiot


Speaking of new words,
One of my favourite,
Has got to be Covidiot.
Someone so nebulous,
Or arrogant or deranged,
Somehow thinks,
Nothing has changed.
Or the worst culprits,
The ones in the masks,
Arm length gloves,
That happily barge past.
These idiots are topped,
By only the best,
Someone so stupid,
They’d go and suggest…
The injection of cleaners,
Or use of UV light,
Without the knowledge,
Or the foresight.
A Covidiot of Covidiots,
The cream of the crop,
The orange one,
With the unkempt mop.

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