This poem was written in February 2021, to reflect how the minutiae of day to day life in each of our social bubbles, has become our news. Without places to visit, events to attend, the luxury of being able to invite somebody into our homes – without all of these things, simple, little moments have become the news of our days. We are even telling others about it through our screens – we have become simultaneously both newscaster and viewer.
“Any news?” she said, centring her head
In their weekly Zoom screen call,
“Oh, not really dear, I’m just sitting here –
A bit fed up with it all.”
With a nod and a smile, she sat back a while
To sip coffee from her cup,
Raindrops fell again on her windowpane,
“Oh dear, Mum,” she said. “What’s up?”
“Spoke to Blue-rinse-Lou, her from number two,
Had a parcel in the post,
She’s been feeling low, but she thought, you know,
She would make herself a roast.”
Sandra gave a sigh, she could almost cry –
Roast potatoes, Yorkshire pud,
All the family there, not an empty chair,
Back when Sundays still felt good.
“Do you remember Clive? Well, he’s eighty-five
And he’s just had his first jab,
Got a lift from Stan, in his delivery van,
Saved him calling out a cab.”
The screen froze just then, playing up again,
With Mum’s last words getting lost,
Has she fixed it yet? Bloody internet,
Oh, she’s back, but looking cross.
“Have you seen the count? Such a large amount,
I can’t watch the news no more.
Oh, Nadine dropped by with an apple pie,
Left it for me, by the door.”
Sandra’s take-away, left from yesterday,
Was an okay breakfast, right?
And it’s safe to say, her ‘Couch to 5K’
Is frankly out of sight.
“Saw Jane-with-the-twins, think she’s looking thin
And she didn’t say a lot,
I’ve not seen her Pete, up and down the street,
Not sure how much work he’s got.”
Sandra nods and sighs, as they sympathise,
Sees her Mum’s on mute once more,
For a technophobe, she has learned a load,
All alone, behind closed doors.
“Sandra, how about you -had much work to do?
Are you fed up with this rain?
What do you think, dear, will it be this year?
Will they let us live again?”
“Hope so, Mum, guess so, it is hard to know”
Sandra wipes a tear-stained cheek,
Her cat gives a purr, ruffling his fur,
“Call you back again next week.”
By Karen Honnor – taken from her book ‘Click & Connect – A Collection of Hope.’
All images belong to author.
Karen Honnor has had a life-long passion to write which has mostly focused upon her poetry and script writing in the past. With a few of her poems published and her scripts used by her local drama group, Karen always had a desire to write something more significant. Motherhood and a teaching career left little time for that but then beginning her blog and circumstances leading to her current career break would change all that.
With a long teaching career completed, Karen is now devoting time to her writing and to her family – husband, Stuart, grown-up children, Matthew and Zoe, and their furry cockapoo called Gizmo. Alongside all this, her usual commitments include much time with her drama group as Producer, Script-Writer and Choreographer. Though that has been put on hold for now, she remains in touch and promises to bring one of her bakes along when they next meet up in person.
Karen now has four books published, with her memoir and fiction writing supplementing her poetry. You can follow her writing adventure via her author website: karenhonnor.com