Quarantine
Forty days and forty nights in lock down
Breathless for inhaling my own air ad infinitum
Could be worse if I was left out to dry in the desert
Isolation in my own four walls in solitude
Puffing and panting from the magic scented flacon
Fragrant innocence of lost childhood in terminal decline
Slimming down expectations for a slice on the road to Nirvana
I light sandalwood from a candle of flickering dreams
Perfumed ideation adamantly adheres to waxen resolve
It's only over when the slim lady sung a tune of lifting reprieve
I hope that she has been told when to bow for applause
And that the virus chokes on the curtain of epical demands
Like a bat out of hell I run round in circles along my four walls
Loose count of repetitions as I pace an eclipse of boredom
Enact biblical scenes with a teddy bear and ragged dolls
Lego figures dance a concert of doom with swift ballerinas
Trinkets on the mantlepiece rejoice in prominent position
Count their blessings and have their day in the lime light
Super powers of alien invasion penetrate my face mask
Order my persona to reveal resilience and count down
The apocalypse for when the gloves are off and insanity ends
03rd April 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
