Coronavirus poetry: With apologies to William Shakespeare

Many, many years ago a friend and Army buddy observed that  poetry in any form is like yak milk. You either like it or you don’t.

There is no middle ground. Nobody craves yak milk with the coffee some of the time — you are either all in or not.

Just like poetry. I wish, at the time, I had thought to ask him if he ever actually had yak milk but I didn’t. My guess is that he was just trying to make a point. Wish I had asked, but he did make his point.

When you look up great poets you get a wide variety of names. Some people list the usual suspects — Shakespeare, Emily Dickinson, etc. Others, probably wanting to show off how well read they think they are, will pick somebody most of us have never heard of.  Which is the point — the expert knows them and we the majority unwashed masses do not.

Which brings us to today’s offering from a retired fed, Anthony Corridore. He spent his entire 30-plus years at the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services, including back when it was known as the Health Care Financing Agency. He was an IT project manager and program manager, and a closet poet.

All the grim news about COVID-19 — the threat, the deaths, the family disruptions and economic toll — are with us 24/7. In addition to being scared to death, and rightly so, many miss loved ones, human contact, the regular routines. And we all wonder when this is over how our worlds will have changed, in big ways and in small things that will become the new normal. With that in mind, Anthony hoped he could bring a smile to all of us. So he penned these verses. Shakespeare it’s not, but considering the times, not to bad.  Hope you enjoy his poem:

I’ve got the coronavirus blues,
Stuck inside without a clue.
How long will this last?
No one seems to know.

Will I need to be tested?
Sure would like to know.
Will I ever go to a theater again?
Will I ever workout at the gym?

How many more months might this go on?
Has Fauci said to go?
Wo is me and you too,
Because we’ve all got the coronavirus blues.

Nearly Useless Factoid

By Amelia Brust

Since 1900 the town of Britt, Iowa, has hosted its annual Hobo Days, which is a weekend festival celebrating the legacy of the transient workers who criss-crossed the U.S. since after the Civil War – largely by train. Participants  set up a hobo jungle, sell crafts and provide free entertainment to visitors while the festival elects a King and Queen of the Hobos. Last year’s events also included the Toilet Bowl Race down Main Street.

Source: Britt Hobo Days

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