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The Island of The Vaccinated

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Such jubilation every time a vessel

debarks a new contingent at the port.

So much relief when loved ones, wrested apart

for long, lone months are free again to nestle 

cheek to cheek, to hug and kiss, to jostle,

guiltlessly mingling among the singing throng,

siblings swinging siblings, making rings

to dance till dawn with no one a virus’ vassal.


Ravenous variants infest the water, revolving

slowly around the boat-people. Uneasiness spreads

as they perceive the creatures are evolving.

I snub the fiesta, stare gloomily out from land,

braced for a day when one discovers legs,

hauls from the surf, lugs doggedly up the sand…



◄ Hoopoe

England, low tide ►


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Stephen Gospage

Thu 10th Jun 2021 21:38

Thank you, Tim. The poor bloke waddling across the West Ham pitch in late December sleet did seem to sum up the pointlessness of it all. (Come to think of it, West Ham were often pointless!)

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Tim Ellis

Wed 9th Jun 2021 23:15

Thanks Stephen. Your Streaker poem also brings back some grim memories from the 1970s!

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Stephen Gospage

Tue 8th Jun 2021 17:10

It's grim but I love it, Tim. One of the best poems on the pandemic.

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Tim Ellis

Tue 8th Jun 2021 10:48

Thanks Greg. Sorry it’s a rather miserable poem but I am pessimistic by nature. I got my second dose on Saturday, and rather than feeling relieved my first thought was “how long will it be before a variant appears that’s immune to all our vaccines?”

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Greg Freeman

Tue 8th Jun 2021 08:25

Wonderfully skilled sonnet, Tim, examining the constant evolution of the pandemic. Many thanks for sharing it here.

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