Tier 3

Tears before bedtime

And Tears before tea

Tiers before lockdown

Tiers- one, two, three.

Tears, it will all end in

And Tiers they will make

Tears on my face

And not Tiers on a cake.

Tears like raindrops

Tiers are rules

Tears for release

And Tiers for fools.

Tears show we love

Tiers – our cage

Tears make us fear

Tiers keep us ‘safe’

Tears are emotion

Tiers leave us cold

Tears of our youth

Tiers getting old

Tears with friends

Tiers alone.

Tears with lovers

Tiers- at home.

PreLockdown Tension

Prelockdown tension

Is too tight to mention

It doesn’t make me sore

I’ve been here before

We’ve all been here

We know the drill

But prelockdown tension

Is making me ill

Actually it’s not.

It’s quite okay

I’m thinking I’ll

Get through it

In the usual way

It’s all about compliance

It’s just like the first one

It’s not rocket science

It’s not a big con

And wash your hands of course

I know that you do

As England goes into

Lockdown Version 2

We know we won’t put up

much of a fight

As we all turn into pumpkins

At midnight.

Highwaymen Of 2020

We have become highwaymen and women

With our masks pulled tight

Over our nose and mouth

Now, we are in disguise

(But weren’t we always)

Wearing these things are either

An asthmatics nightmare


A rapists delight

False smiles that don’t reach the eyes

Can be hidden

As well as manic grins

And angry little pouts

All of our foibles, now safely

Under that little piece of cloth

The opposite is also true

You can see

The twinkle in the eye

Of the genuine smile.

Only Minds Are Meeting

What’s the point of a shower

And smelling like a flower

And having scented power

Of a freshly washed bod?

What’s the point of a wash

When no-one gives a toss

It’s a load of bosh

When stinky flesh is quashed

Does a tree still sound

When it falls to the ground

And there’s no-one there to hear?

Well, the same surely goes

If there is no nose

To smell a rose

That might be there.

But, I’ll do it for myself

And my hygiene health

And the perfumed wealth

Of a non smelly self.

Won’t hang like a bum

Accumulating scum

Scrub it all new

And smell like morning dew.

We can mess around with mud

And wallow in the crud

We can do what we dare

‘Cos there’s no-one there to care

(As long as we wash our hands at the end of it)

Oh, but in these lazy days

Of Covid crazy haze

If these four walls could talk

They would surely squawk

But hey, I can go for a walk


Still, I think I’ll just Twitter

Forget about being fitter

I’d much rather be eating

‘Cos sanity is fleeting

And only minds are meeting

Just now.