Earlier in 2020 C Group members contributed to a file of poems and other writings focussed on the Corona virus pandemic.  The result was a file we called ‘A Viral Time Warp’. It comprises three sections: original texts (mainly poems) sent in by members; writings by published authors; texts in languages other than English.

We would like to share this file as widely as possible, not only with C Group members.  It is free to download from the link below http://thecreativitygroup.weebly.com/blog/a-viral-time-warp

or download it from attachment section below.

 

Sample poems

The Silent Cell   by  Jane Spiro

Invented borders, man-made walls,

but nothing holds back the silent cell. Its journey

is unstoppable, doesn’t flow that way.

 

We draw up laws, make up the rules.

but nature doesn’t listen, refuses to obey.

 

We privatise water, nationalise air,

but nature’s takes no notice of anything we say.

 

We like to think we come from different soils

but earth joins us all, and we are water, DNA.

 

As we step back, the mountain goats, dolphins,

freshwater fish, baby toads reclaim the day.

 

Oh little homo sapiens, we thought we ruled the world

but a cell we cannot taste or smell

has snatched our crown away.

 

The Germ  by  Odgen Nash

A mighty creature is the germ,

Though smaller than the pachyderm.

His customary dwelling place

Is deep within the human race.

His childish pride he often pleases

By giving people strange diseases.

Do you, my poppet, feel infirm?

You probably contain a germ.

(Submitted by Alan Maley)

 

La Rue de Bucy Maintenant (extract)  by Jacques Prevert

Où est-il parti

le petit monde fou du dimanche matin

Qui donc a baissé cet épouvantable rideau de poussière et de fer sur cette rue

cette rue autrefois si heureuse et si fière d'être rue

comme une fille heureuse est fière d'être nue.

Pauvre rue

te voilà maintenant abandonnée dans le quartier abandonné

lui-même dans la ville dépeuplée.

Pauvre rue

morne corridor menant d'un point mort à un autre …

 

Where is it now

that crazy little Sunday morning world?

Who has pulled down this terrible curtain of dust and iron on this street

which used to be so happy and proud of being a street,

the way a happy young girl is proud of being naked.

Poor street,

look at you now, deserted in a district itself deserted

in the emptied city.

Poor street,

now leading from one dead end to another.

(submitted by Alan Maley)