Bad Pandemic Poetry

At this point in the pandemic, as we hunker down for more isolation at home, the mind gets desperate for entertainment: there are only so many reruns of Seinfeld that you can sit through.

So my solution is to make up poetry about the pandemic. But not just any poetry; no, this calls for bad poetry, really bad poetry, so bad it will make the virus go away and never come back.

So here without further introduction are some bad but mercifully short poems about the pandemic.

Omicron: Be gone!
Will the virus
Expire us?

Not wearing a mask?
You’ll be taken to task

Huddled in my family bubble
I can’t get myself in trouble

“Give me liberty or give me death”
—the anti-vaxxer’s final breath

Two long years of hibernation
Can I bear more isolation?

At Dr. Kieran Moore’s insistence
I’ll maintain a six-foot distance

Teresa Tam has often said it
To sing out loud can quickly spread it

No more firmly shaken hand
The elbow bump’s the new command

Stick a Q-tip up my nose
I’ll come out smelling like a rose

If you want to stay alive
Use a mask—N-95.

I think I’m going to have a fit
Can’t get a rapid testing kit

To advocate for drinking bleach
Should be sufficient to impeach

Two jabs and now a booster shot
I suspect a Deep State plot

As I pass through the airport gate
They tell me I must isolate

When Covid happened on our planet
We should have passed a law to ban it

Without a proof of vaccination
I’m banned from Tims—no hesitation

Ventilators, ICUs
Neither is the one I’d choose.

COVID-19, COVID-19
Meanest virus I’ve ever seen
Hope they find a good vaccine
Or I’ll end up in quarantine
Where I’ll relax and eat poutine
Read Reader’s Digest magazine.
Making for an awful scene And so on…

That’s all for 2021. Have a good Christmas and New Year.