Two new poems

What ye doin wi yersel?

After watchin billy Connolly and the artist from the isles

After watchin Russel t Davies in mumbles

After watchin Blues play Leicester city

After going to bed

After, After, After.

After sleeping

After getting up

After playing no2 in the bowls triples

After going tae bed with a snotty nose

After, After, After

After a wee dram.

In – flew- enza.

Another early winter morning 

Throat scratchy, head full of cold

Nose and sinuses stuffed before streaming

One dramatic sneeze after another.

A single sensor garden light 

Beams it’s triangle of illumination 

Out of darkness, from the Bark of the tree, 

Over dormant winter bushes.

Pull back the duvet to trudge to the kitchen

To empty the last cold relief 

Powder potion, topped 

With a dollop of honey and boiling water

Outside the early morning drivers

Flash past beyond the tall everlasting

Evergreens that survive the cold viruses

Year after year

Pandemic Working From Home recedes 

Cars, buses, bikes and trains 

Carry well people to their workplaces

They pump god knows what into the morning air.

The kettle transforms electricity into boiling water that

Melts the honey and disappears it into the yellow powder

That may soothe the throat to begin the day.

Why do poems appear with illnesses?

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