Tag Archives: coronaverse

Coronaverse alphabet

Less shit. Image credit: unknown.

March has seen a series of alphabetical posts on Zenrinji on a coronaverse theme, many focused on inadequate responses from government and certain members of the populace to the pandemic.

Forms including acrostic, limerick, nonet, senryu, sestain, sonnet, tanka and triolet have featured alliteration, rhyming couplets, doggerel, humour, parody, and satire.

You may recognise some of the moods — anger, anxiety, bemusement, despair, disdain, disbelief, sadness — these verses are intended to convey.

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Zoom call

© C A Lovegrove

Thank heavens for Zoom!
Proof against gloom!
Where’d we be
without our TV?
And social media
has never been needier
on laptops and phones,
replacement for drones
for spying on friends,
for gossip, and trends.

When plague years are done
where will we find fun?


Today’s coronaverse is brought to you by the letter Z.

Year clear

© C A Lovegrove

Twenty Twenty, what a year!
As it spun on and on some thought,
Let’s get the worst over now
and then it’s back to normal.

And now it’s Twenty Twenty-one.
Okay, so it went on a bit longer,
and it’s got a bit more messy,
but Twenty Twenty-two will see us clear.

And when it’s Twenty Twenty-three
What’ll we tell ourselves then?


Today’s coronaverse is brought to you by the letter Y

X placeholder

Disease X,
a hypothetical pathogen
capable of causing
a future epidemic.

That’s what they told us.

Disease X, the placeholder name
for the very serious threat
posed to human health
by unknown viruses.

That’s what they told us,
back in 2018.

Disease X, on a pathogen shortlist
prioritised for research
by the World Health Organization.

That’s what they told us,
back in 2018,
but we didn’t listen.

Disease X, the sure knowledge
of a serious international epidemic
from a pathogen currently unknown.

That’s what they told us,
back in 2018.
But we didn’t listen.
And then it was too late.


Today’s coronaverse is brought to you by the letter X.

Washing hands

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Wash your hands for twenty seconds,
After touching outside things.
Sluice your mitts with sanitiser,
Healthy lives such cleansing brings!

You all know what’s needing doing,
Otherwise we spread disease.
Utter disregard spells danger,
Reproduction rates won’t ease.

Have yourself a merry soaping!
Add clean water — don’t be tense!
Need we ask?
Don the mask!
Social distancing makes sense!


Acrostic coronaverse, brought to you by the letter W.

Update daily

Do you search for daily updates,
cases new, jabs, even death rates?
Data junkies, figure monkeys,
number mystics need statistics,
searching out the numbers’ meanings
but forgetting human beings.
Each and every Covid sufferer
is a father, child or mother,
sister, uncle, aunt or brother,
not a cipher, A N Other.


Today’s coronaverse doggerel is brought to you by the letter U.

Super spreader

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It’s lack of social distancing I fear
each time some numbskull prances near,
it’s then a twisted new refrain
comes fast, unbidden, to the brain:

“Tonight the superspreader bugs are gonna find me, gasping out for air,
wheezing, needing care,
feeling like I need a prayer.”

What’s the problem with these chancers,
inching close like bloody dancers?
Do I need a six-foot stick,
or do they need a damn good kick?

“Superspreader bugs are gonna mind me, I may need a pill,
yes, I’m sure I will
if someone in the crowd feels ill.”

Each time some numbskull prances near
it’s lack of social distancing I fear.


With apologies to Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus. This coronaverse brought to you by the letter S.

Reproduction numbers

You’ve heard of reproduction numbers,
the rate one person spreads disease;
if more than one it’s bad news,
less than one it’s better;
let’s all do our best
to bring it down
to something
nearer
0.


A nonet for today’s coronaverse, brought to you by the letter R

Quarantine times

Forty days isolation,
that’s how it used to be
for Venetian plague ships,
quaranta giorni;
forty days for new mums,
impure until churched,
forty days for Jesus
in the wilderness,
forty days for fasting
in the time of Lent,
forty days of penance:
that’s how long they spent.

So stop your moaning
when told to quarantine:
it’s only fourteen bloody days,
not half a lifetime.