Bob Ward
Shards from a Lockdown Diary
began to write a diary in verse form, adopting the five-line Japanese tanka.
He kept this going for ten weeks compiling over 180 verses, which built up
into a patchwork of experiences, where the mundane and the threatening
constantly overlapped. This excerpt is intended to give a flavour of the entire work.
June 2020
Like an ink splash creeps
widely through blotting paper
contagion reaches
into our social fibres—
we become untouchable.
Confined to our house
we wonder how soon we’ll hear
an ambulance blare
through the streets of our grim town
on its way to the first case.
Our home’s an island
now like one of those cartoons—
a couple sitting
on a beach who stare across
vast seas of uncertainty.
Fetching medicine
I drive along the High Street
past the silent shops
slammed shut, cross-barred and bolted
against all trade in disease.
Three and a half hours
listening to ’line engaged’
to order foodstuff.
But while we fret, shop heroes
must scurry, scurry, scurry . . .
No Bank Holiday
for all those where the Front Line
remains reality
as they shield themselves in gowns
blue like skies beyond their reach.
Gorse powers the Heath
with Disney colour, topped by
whiffs of coconut.
Rules relaxed just a little
bring us back to the good Earth.
The harsh winds have dropped.
Hush as if a reborn world
considers ‘What next?’,
then a dove coos on the roof,
giving the signal to start.