Lockdown Poetry by Anthony M Baker

Up, Up in the Air

Up, up in the air,
London’s a ghost town.
But there’s less pollution,
So I don’t care.

Lock in on the last Friday
In the local pub.
Before the lockout has affected us.

Soup kitchens all akimbo,
So I dance at limbo.

They’re trying to stop us from being outside,
But there’s a resistance movement
To run, but not hide.

No pubs, no culture, no community,
Enough to send me loony.

It’s okay to die of loneliness,
As long as it’s not Coronavirus.

Food hampers delivered to my door,
Getting free food outside is the big chore.

It’s great meeting a stranger on the bus,
No police state in London for us.

It’s in times like these I know
Who cares for me.
Rather than those,
Who only themselves can see.

Me and my neighbours
Start a book swap club,
To counteract the boredom
That’s inflicted on us.

What a strange world it’s become.
Keep your distance they say,
As if I’m scum.

Up, up in the air,
The worlds going – I know not where.

Anthony M Baker

Photo by Leticia Valverdes