#pandemic poetry

[outragedtortilla]

in community do we find the STRONGEST action, change, and movement forward.

#poetry

#poetry #poem #community #pandemic poetry #pandemic #lucy dot txt

[and-his-hands-were-24-crows]

Discarded Hymns to Small Gods

Verse I: The Hanged Man

I pull my mask down when there’s nobody to see, To smell the green things. The rain. Stone. Petrichor.

The sign by the train tracks helpfully reads “Stop and wait 55 seconds.”

I stop. But nothing is coming.

Verse II: Three of Swords

I want to be a poet, I said. Ah, she replied.  You wish to rip out your heart for money. It’s different, I said, As though I knew better. It’s different.

Verse III: The Devil, Inverse

I want to describe it, I said. I don’t want anyone to think they’ve felt this before. Give me the right image to stitch in. The right needles All in a row.

Show me a feeling that nobody else has ever known, But which everyone will feel like a knife (Like a whisper) In the back Of the neck.

As though Hades looked at Persephone and said, “Nevermind.”

Did she feel those pomegranate seeds Rooted in her belly, then? A sour promise to return again And again And again To a stranger with the face of her winter husband?

Did she tell Charon as he took her home?

Verse IV: The Tower

(I open my mouth and ravens fly out, A great, ravaging unkindness of Reverberating fury, Black eyes shining, Beating their wings like bronze shields When all I wanted to ask was How was your day?)

Verse V: Ten of Swords

Do you remember, my sister, When we pried open the jaws of the divine To extract the red tongue of Heaven, Shrieking that now Now Now We have found God? I felt my ribs crack between those teeth, That great vise made of stars. I remember you screaming I see! I see! I see! As your eyes burned from your radiant skull.

Verse VI: The Fool, Inverse

This is my body which is given for Given for given for given the chance we would eat our own tongues, Toasting the deaths of all the screaming gods inside of us While I close my eyes so that you can’t see the quiet hiding place Where I keep my ghosts.

I caught one trying to escape through the river passages, The Traitors’ Gate; I gently gathered it back into me.

Stop and wait 55 seconds.

Petrichor.

Written May-June 2020

#24 crows poetry #pandemic poetry #original poetry #I've been thinking about this one a lot over the last week #2020 really dug in deep

[retrospeccd-writes]

So I found this buried in my notes, written when the pandemic still had a chokehold on the world. It was mostly a stream of consciousness, just spilling out how all the death seemed so needless and how unreal everything felt, but I thought I might share.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

780,131

It seems terribly strange, sometimes, living in the now and thinking of the "before".

Before 'PPE' and 'social distancing' became terms so familiar that the vinegar taste of them lingers for every hundredth time they're spoken.

Before masks, hand sanitizer, and plexiglass made everyday retail a bizarre liminal atmosphere; halfway real, halfway unreal, fully unsettling.

Before preventable death became an exhaustive stream of ticker tape on the daily newsreel, lives measured in scrolling font.

Before all of This, where there is yet to be an After.

Strange.

In my own little hemisphere of existence a single word often punctures through, frequenting even the most mundane: surreal.

When I realize my brain now marks every interaction as a risk, and measures safety in the cozy number 6.

Surreal.

There's a level at which my anxiety relishes in this new necessity of perfectionist avoidance, rejoices at the automation of wired awareness. It keeps it occupied, at least, while the months run through my fingers and take lives and the memory of Normal with them.

The chasm between what is and could've been is wide, and the small but stable spit of land I stand on is better by far than the cliff opposite. I know how the world could've looked from there.

There is no lack of gratitude for what I have in a world that seems so terribly intent on taking away

Stability.

Empathy.

Lives.

780,131.

#writing #writer #covid19 #covid 19 #pandemic #stream of consciousness #pandemic experience #living history #poem #poetry #pandemic poetry

[ramyeongif]

We sat under the stars not knowing that the skies would rage for months to come.

#poetry

#poetry #poetry community #poem #stars #pandemic poetry

[ramyeonpng]

when was the last time you challenged your taste buds to venture beyond the horizons?

#SupportLocalRestaurants

#foodie #local restaurants #pandemic poetry #poetry #food

[grouchydairy]

to be connected while apart, to not let distances time zones be a barrier in being together

#poetry

#poetry #poem #time zones #pandemic poetry

[eggwhiteswithspinach]

Though these times may have been tough -

https://medium.com/paper-poetry/community-78005688d50b / #poetry

#poetry #poem #community #pandemic poetry #pandemic

[junflower123]

Need the vulnerable to sacrifice their lives So everyone else can dine inside Rapid testing is such a hassle Gotta keep building up the capitalism castle!

They say it’s a beautiful landmark Well, I think it’s just a tourist attraction!

#writeblr #writing #WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF A PANDEMIC #we are in a pandemic #COVID-19 #covid #Omicron #pandemic #global pandemic #pandemic writing #pandemic poem #pandemic poetry #poet #poetic #poetry #poets corner #poets of the fall #poets society #dead poets society #poetry is not luxury #poets on tumblr #poets of tumblr #writers and poets #female writer #female poet #writerscreed #writerscircle #writerscafe #writers community #quarantine writing

[allweknewisdead]

The Second Coming (1919) - W. B. Yeats

The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.

#w.b. yeats #william butler yeats #the second coming #things fall apart #slouching towards bethlehem #chinua achebe #joan didion #poem #poetry #inspiration to other authors #pandemic #reading #yeats

[etakeh]

(source)

#sag strike #actors strike #plague #covid #pandemic #doom 2023 #poetry #plague poems

[outragedtortilla]

poised on the arc at the very top of the tracks, we can see around the bend, the exciting rush of excitement, reuniting with our friends, kickstarting the economy.

#PandemicPoetry

#pandemic poetry #poetry #poem #thoughts #ideas

[disasterhimbo]

there's laundry to do and a genocide to stop

By Vinay Krishnan

there’s laundry to do and a genocide to stop. I have to eat better and also avoid a plague. my rent went up $150. I’ll need to pick up more shifts. Twenty people died in Rafah this morning and every major news outlet is stretching the limits of passive voice to suggest whole families may have leaped up through the air at missiles that otherwise had the right of way. I just got a notification that my student loan payments are starting up again and my phone isn’t charged. My cousin got COVID for a fourth time and can no longer work or walk or even feed himself. The person across from me on the L train seems to fashion themself a punk rock revolutionary, but they’re not wearing a face mask, and that’s the kind of cognitive dissonance that makes me want to steal batteries. Fascists keep winning primaries for both parties, and I think I gained a few pounds. The CDC just announced there are no more speed limits on highways, and I think this Ativan is finally hitting. The NYPD farmer’s market only sells bad apples, have you heard that one? Listen it’s warm today, too warm for March. But I don’t have time to think through the implications because there’s laundry to do and a genocide to stop.

Source: https://x.com/vinayrkrishnan/status/1765428498573771235

#poetry #prose #my post #repost from twitter #palestinian genocide #genocide #imperialism #climate change #covid isn’t over #covid #covid 19 #pandemic #fascism #late stage capitalism #end stage capitalism

[photoshamanism]

Pandemic echoes

Observing in stillness, bereft of interaction.

Cold to touch, warm inside.

Startled by my voice muffled through the mask,

‘Art moves us, we stand still’

lyrics by Sam @pixandum

Thanks a lot my dear Sam for this inspiring collaboration. Love it!

#photographers on tumblr #spilled ink #artists on tumblr #black and white #original photographers #pandemic echoes #streetphotography #poetry

[ramyeongif]

Though these times may have been tough -

#poetry

#poetry #poem #community #pandemic poetry #pandemic #lucy dot txt

[ramyeonpng]

We sat under the stars not knowing that the skies would rage for months to come.

https://medium.com/age-of-empathy/the-future-unknown-e02d198be9f1 / #poetry

#poetry #poetry community #poem #stars #pandemic poetry

[grouchydairy]

poised on the arc at the very top of the tracks, we can see around the bend, the exciting rush of excitement, reuniting with our friends, kickstarting the economy.

https://medium.com/know-thyself-heal-thyself/on-challenging-the-status-quo-flying-dreams-niche-interests-and-more-a-poetry-series-943dfed12d5e / #PandemicPoetry

#pandemic poetry #poetry #poem #thoughts #ideas