in this age of spikey virus.
Seated on this old veranda
poetic thoughts? They tend to wander.
So, we must settle on a theme –
a nasty virucidal scheme.
Ode, pantoum, or toxic sonnet,
something hot under the bonnet?
We need some really heavy verse
to shake and shock this evil curse,
to liberate us from its grip
before it gives us all the pip.
We need a poem like ivermectin,
so, while you’re busily selectin’
what to put in Christmas stocking,
write a rhyme that’s truly shocking
to Omicron, that’s floating free –
deprive it of its liberty.
A poetic mask, N95,
to keep us safe and well, alive.
Please use your mouse to good effect,
write a poem that will deflect
the virus’s unpleasant spike,
lines that say how you dislike
its attack on every nation,
its tendency for bad mutation.
Do not wait, do not delay:
kill this thing ‘fore Boxing Day!
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