Covid-19 and I try hard, Adepts, equals, bug and bard, Trying to make our work catch on Before our audience has gone. After Pangur Bán by Anon/Seamus Heaney
They flee from me that sometime did me seek; I’m lucky if I get an elbow rub From those that act so gentle, tame, and meek Who last night I was snogging down the pub. After They Flee From Me by Sir Thomas Wyatt
Good luck to you, don’t scorn the poor, You rather should admire us, For worldly wealth soon melts away Before Coronavirus, After Woman of Three Cows by James Clarence Mangan
But at my back I always hear Time’s shopping trolley hurrying near. After To His Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvell
Morning and evening Maids heard the goblins cry: “Come buy our toilet paper And you will never die!” After Goblin Market by Christina Rosetti
You’re right – “the way is narrow” – That’s why – you should wait – And yield me space – until I pass – At least – six bloody feet! After You’re Right by Emily Dickinson
That is no country for old men: the young In one another’s pants or noisy mobs Who spread their germs alongside raucous song, Since now the lousy bastards have no jobs! After Sailing to Byzantium by WB Yeats
Do not despair of man, and do not scold him: That doesn’t mean you have to hear or hold him. After Do Not! by Stevie Smith
King of neglected orchards: overlord of the empty M5: architect of the unvisited citadel at Tamworth, the summer hermitage in Holy Cross: contractor to the desirable new disease: soapmaster: money waster: commissioner of deaths.
‘I liked that,’ said Corona, ‘sing it again.’ After Mercian Hymns by Geoffrey Hill
We real cool. We Miss school. We
Sink booze. We
So choose. We
Get wrecked. We Infect. We
Stay high. We May die. After We Real Cool by Gwendolyn Brooks
This brand of soap has the same smell as in that big house he visited down the empty roads to see the survivors After Soap Suds by Louis MacNeice
My eldest sister arrived home that morning Because a Cuban doctor worked abroad. After Cuba by Paul Muldoon
Touching with two lips is a shyness I will have for a long time. After Tulips by Medbh McGuckian
Ian Duhig is the author of several awardwinning collections. His latest is The Blind Roadmaker (Picador)
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A Recently Unearthed Emily Dickinson Poem Because I could not step outside – Outside stepped in for me – My body shook and coughed and sneezed – I’ve no immunity.
Alone, I played my records loud – Some Drake and Miley Cyrus – My labours and my leisure lost – To the Coronavirus.
A Recently Unearthed Rudyard Kipling Poem If you can talk with crowds, but keep your distance, Or walk with friends – nor lose the common touch, If people stay away on your insistence, If you can drink alone, but not too much. If you can fill each unforgiving minute With books and music, writing, song and dance, Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, (Just cancel this year’s holiday in France.)
A Recently Unearthed TS Eliot Poem Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a couple going on a walk; Let us go, through all these half-deserted streets, No longer meeting Friends in restaurants or bars or clubs We cannot sit around and drink in pubs Until we spoil the night with argument Our tempers we will vent Until we ask an overwhelming question… Oh, do not say, “If only!” We’re stuck at home and lonely.
A Recently Unearthed William Wordsworth Poem I wandered lonely as a cloud#
Past Centra, SuperValu, Mace, When all at once I saw a crowd Of people gathered in one place, Beside the lake, the park infested, Each one of them should be arrested.
Corona Vespers with apologies to AA Milne
Little boy stands at the edge of the door, Glances behind, then looks down at the floor. Hush! Hush! Keep your hands clean! Christopher Robin is in quarantine.
At first it was good to be kept off of school He’s quite far advanced and is nobody’s fool But he missed out a party the day he turned six And he’s seen everything on iTunes and Netflix.
He can’t even play with his big sister Alice Who’s having a meltdown at Buckingham Palace A soldier’s life might be terribly hard But it’s easier now they’ve stopped changing the guard.
Little boy stands at the end of the drive He likes being out there, he feels more alive. Hush! Hush! Don’t get too near! Christopher Robin is shedding a tear.
Daddy is home and is working upstairs But rather than suits, it’s just sweatpants he wears. He no longer shaves and works out his frustration By just playing FIFA upon his PlayStation.
At first Mummy said she’d clear out household junk Then couldn’t be bothered so sits getting drunk The empties pile up but she says “I don’t care, It’s must be gone Wine O’Clock someplace, somewhere.”
Little boy runs to the end of the street He’s fast and he’s nimble, there’s wings on his feet. Hush! Hush! This is the day Christopher Robin is running away.
The playground is near but he sees it’s deserted It’s been that way ever since they were alerted To dangers the scientists identified Of sharing a roundabout, swing or a slide.
There’s nowhere to go and there’s no one to see He hopes this will end but there’s no guarantee How he wishes that he had his own time machine He’d go back to the months before Covid-19.
Little boy walks up the path to his house Though he’d love to just scream, he’s as quiet as a mouse. Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares! Christopher Robin’s stopped saying his prayers.
John Boyne's 12th adult novel, A Traveller at the Gates of Wisdom, will be published by Doubleday on July 23rd
These poems were originally published by The Irish Times: https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/books/viral-poetry-by-ian-duhig-and-john-boyne-1.4222227