by “Lice Brews” Ueda
A bee flies about
a lavender in full bloom—
a nice place to be.
by “Lice Brews” Ueda
On a walk, two paused
by purple flowers in green,
lavender verbena, vetch,
and violet bluebonnets.
“Lice Bews” Ueda is a haikuist of the small.
by “Wired Clues” Abe
seven-inch, yellow-green grass,
she drove to Texas before
the virus quarantine hit.
“Wired Clues” Abe is a poet uniting New Millennial scenes with traditional Japanese poetic forms. This week the Governor of Texas said drivers coming from Louisiana would have to self-quarantine themselves entering Texas.
Doctor Ai Fen Has Been Disappeared
by Lu “Reed ABCs” Wei
At Wuhan Central Hospital, she was one of the first—
Ai Fen—who tried alerting others of the virus curse,
She said it passed from humans, but the CCP said don’t
spread rumours to the folks, like that, desist, stop speaking—No!
Two weeks ago she did an interview—she was upset—
so many deaths, Li Wenliang, o, she could not forget.
If she had known, she’d have told everyone, though she was warned;
she “would have fucking talked” despite the CCP’s damn scorn.
She was director of emergency and management,
and recently nobody ‘s seen her. None knows where she went.
The Last Words from Her Phone
by Lu “Reed ABCs” Wei
A river—flows beneath gray sky, gray empty, vast and wide,
A bridge—of steel crosses it; it goes from side to side.
A clock chime—rises over it; its faint sound barely heard.
That is the message from Wuhan; there is no other word.
Aye, when will it be over—this great plague that ‘s crossed the Globe?
Aye, when will Earth be healed from—these agonies untold?
Aye, when will Life again be focused on the good and true?
Aye, when will Time release Us from such misery and rue?
We hear the message—quiet, clear—its purport loud and here.
It penetrates, aye, fen and street and vast, gray atmosphere.
Lu “Reed ABCs” Wei is a poet of China. The CCP (Chinese Communist Party) has done everything within their power to expunge Dr. Ai Fen’s interview off the Internet, and now she herself is gone, the last message on her phone in Chinese: “a river, a bridge, a clock chime”. Also disappeared are Fang Bin, Chen Qiushi and Li Zehua, three citizen journalists who reported on the coronavirus in Wuhan and dangerously posted videos of overwhelmed hospitals and corpses piled in a minibus. Where are they now?
Doctor Deborah Birx on the Coronavirus
by Dr. Weslie Ubeca
The seriousness of coronavirus had been missed,
because of scanty data from the Chinese communists.
On Tuesday, Doctor Deb’rah Birx, said medical experts,
were at a disadvantage till they got precise results,
like those that came from South Korea, France and Italy;
and then they could assess the data more successfully.
She said when they observed the numbers coming from Hubei;
of 80,000,000, only 50,000 caught this plague.
She said they thought this was like SARS, but now know it is not;
“It’s so incredibly contagious…nobody knew that.”
Dr. Weslie Ubeca is a poet (not a doctor) of medicine. He has been influenced by writers, such as Edgar Poe, John Snow, and Gottfried Benn.The first coronavirus patient in New York (March 1, 2020) was a woman who had traveled in Iran. By April 1, 2020, there were over 83,000 positive coronavirus cases in New York with over 1900 deaths.
The King of Thailand Is Self-Isolating
by Daw Buricselee
He is the King of Thailand—Maha Vajiralongkorn—
and by official name of Rama X is also known;
and like so many others, he ‘s gone in to quarantine,
self-separating from the population, like a king.
He’s booked the Grand Hotel of Sonnenbichl for his stay,
in th’ alpine town of Garmisch-Partenkirchen—locked away.
He’s stuck in Germany, so far from his Thai palace gates,
and here he’ll be till the coronavirus dissipates.
At sixty-seven he is vulnerable to this plague,
so with his concubines and servants he’ll self-isolate.
Daw Buricselee is a poet of Thailand. Garmisch-Partenkirchen, in the south of Germany, has a population of around 27,000.
by Budi Eas Celewi
In Indonesia drones are disinfecting from the sky,
all over Surabaya—epidemic panic fright.
From Turkey’s Grand Bazaar to bridges found in Mexico,
in India on migrant workers—disinfections grow.
But these impressive measures have been criticized as well,
by specialists of the disease containment—this is hell.
They say it is a waste of time and nation’s resource stock;
and it is also a health hazard—it’s a toxic block.
And in Jakarta disinfection chambers are set up,
to offer passersby a blast to rid themselves of yuck.
Budi Eas Celewi is a poet of Indonesia.
The Swedish Way
by Lars U. Ice Bedew
In Sweden, the approach to covid-19 is unique;
no lockdown has been recommended in this latest week.
The Swedish Public Health decides what actions they will take,
not politicians will decide what to initiate.
They won’t allow the human desperation of Wuhan
to be repeated in their land; they do not want that stand.
And so, one sees the bars and restaurants are filled with folks;
although 2,000 people are infected, on life goes.
So what will happen, time will tell. Which is the better way?
To live in lockdown purposely or live life day to day.
Lars U. Ice Bedew is a poet of Sweden.
A herd of Kashmir goats has wandered in to Llandudno;
in Wales they are strolling through the streets where none now show.
The animals who roam free on a nearby headland jut,
because of the coronavirus have come for a jaunt.
They have been eating unattended gardens they may find,
and on the flowers that they like, they willingly have dined..
Upon Great Orme promontory Kashmir goats have lived,
since during the long reign of England’s Queen Victoria.
And here the remnants of those goats once used for shawls and such
are roaming where they want, or are contentedly ensconced.
Bard Eucewelis is a poet of Wales. Llandudno is a Welsh town of about 20,000.
by Birducee Wales
Love falls where no stream goes; no swan glides on its flowing sea.
The waters of the heart push in their tides unceasingly.
Time’s roaming ghosts with glowing heads pass through the darkest night.
No flesh bedecks the speed that travels past the timely sight.
A candle in the glassy holder flickers in the wind…
the World turns upon…the spindle…in a spinning din.
Dawn rises up before the eyes, set in the bloody skull,
and slides across the skies to reach the lunar push and pull.
O, searing eyeballs see the flashing lasers of the mind,
as round they go in wild circles where the West Winds wind.
Birducee Wales is a poet of the Welsh, an admirer of the poetry of Dylan Thomas.
Some Barren Hills
by Aldi “Screwee” Bu
He gazed upon the sun-glazed, grassy hills before his eyes,
arising beautif’lly up to those pleasing azure skies.
How sweet to see such loveliness in nature so displayed.
He longed to climb such scenic wonders any sunny day.
O, here coronavirus is not overwheming so,
out in the country, ah, beond the traffic on the go.
How gorgeous are those fuzzy furze and bushes bounteous.
And though it’s but some barren hills, they seem so sumptuous.
Out here among these hills, coronavirus has no legs.
It’s glorious, o, marvelous, to be free from such plagues.
Aldi “Screwee” Bu is a crazy poet who loves to go on scenic trips.
Shopping For Groceries in the Coronavirus Epidemic
by Carb Deliseuwe
We drive to see how many cars are in the parking lot.
Should we attempt to buy food and necessities, or not?
We take the risk, although we know no safety ‘s guaranteed.
We want to buy the things we want, the things we think we need.
These trips are rare—more than two weeks since the last time I went.
We move alert, aware of social distancing, intent.
But customers are greedier, negotiating more;
some shelves are emptier, though fewer folks are in the store.
We purchase items carefully, but quickly, resolute,
self-checking out, attempting to be calm, composed, aloof.
And at the end, it doesn’t hurt to take a couple swipes
from plastic, cylindered, antibacterial hand wipes.
Carb Deliseuwe is a poet of food and shopping.
by “Recluse” Ed Biwa
Spring’s brusque arrival,
sharp discords, curt, flat birdsong,
plucking the biwa.
“Recluse” Ed Biwa is a poet of Japanese poetic forms. The “biwa” is a four-st