Pools of Longing Sara L Russell, July 9th, 03:11am That it might come back to me, that sweet sensation, When i would reach out my arms across the cool light blue ripples and push off from the side. Then would i glide out across the water, as a white crane glides across the sunset, as a white cloud hurries brightly on a warm southerly breeze. There are trees when I go walking; butterflies and wild flowers too. They seem comfort enough for a short time, in parklands and along the lanes. There are trains I may never ride on, there are buses I am still rethinking, There is time enough for drinking in the the cafes and the bars; But oh my stars, what would I give to go back swimming, gliding weightless once again, free as the birds that skim the sky.

WHEN DREAMS GO VIRAL: 
Poems About COVID19 Lockdown, UK.


Biorhythms.
c. Sara L Russell 23/4/20
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When it’s eight o clock in the evening
and all is calm and still
the birds are singing their goodnight songs
and the air has a deepening chill.
I am almost inclined to believing
things are just as they once were
when we didn’t quite notice the bird’s songs
and time passed somewhat of a blur.

When it’s eight o clock in the morning
I may calmly be lying in;
a few cars slide by on the road outside
as I wait for the day to begin.
I am almost inclined to be worried
that today will be like yesterday;
yet the past gave each day something different
and our lives gave us something to say.

 Making The Best of It
Sara L Russell 17/4/20 (with video below)
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Make time for oatmeal

slap it on your face

A mask is always useful

Think about Mindfulness

enter the id

explore the more spiritual

Get into baking

throw nothing away

cut your own hair

A virtual pub quiz

almost the same

as being there

So here is Friday

a bit like Thursday

by another name

Here is a message

stay home save lives

be good, play the game

Here comes a baldy

With cold dead eyes

to tell you again

Here’s a comedian

saying the same thing

but makes it a joke

There’s good little children

there’s a good housewife

that’s a good bloke

Spring is forbidden

summer is cancelled

commerce has died

So dance in your bedroom

sing into your hairbrush

Pretend they all lied.

When Dreams Go Viral

Sara L. Russell, 31/3/20

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I will haunt those tree-lined avenues again

I will watch white seagulls circling in the sky 

I will once more see the Leidseplein in rain

Let this cocoon unfold its wings and fly

I’ll rebuild that club the council had pulled down

dust off my leather trousers and boot chains

I will browse the market stalls of Camden town 

Go on short bus rides; long trips on fast trains

I will wander free amid the aftermath

I’ll claw back all that seemed so out of reach

Swim in that rooftop pool again, in Bath

Throw pebbles out to sea on Brighton beach.

When freedom comes to grant us one last wish

When once more people meet, to drink and dance

You’ll be a dried-up smear on a petrie dish,

worn down and stripped of all significance.

Horses for Courses:

Sara L Russell 30/3/20

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So you went a bit stir crazy

The police all know your name

cause you sneaked out twice to Sainsb’rys

and you’ve only you to blame

so you try to go out walking

in a blonde wig for disguise

but you’ve got the neighbours talking

and even trees have eyes

And some pubs are playing lock-in

when they’re meant to be locked down

the rebellion is shocking

Throughout this deadbeat town

Don’t bother with explaining

if they catch you outside twice;

whether it’s sun or raining

you will have to pay the price.

I guess one mustn’t grumble

when one’s home becomes a jail

Just have an apple crumble

or some eggs laid by a quail

one might well pay a visit

to one’s Mummy, on FaceTime,

From Balmoral exquisite

To Buckingham sublime.

Exercise Yard

Sara L Russell 11/4/20 at 03:37am

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My path may be smaller

but it is strewn with flowers.

They cannot confiscate the spring.

In the small hours between

waking and sleeping

I find things to do

Between guessing and knowing

from planning to improvised

few things make sense any more

So I walk a shorter way round

and I forget not to admire‹

the blue flowers that festoon my path.