A Week in a Day in a Lockdown Life
by Anisha Minocha
On Sunday, wilted blue, in some broken way
sit tired, dried eyes
which stay up till four-
waking, a dawning hope
of becoming something more.
On Tuesday, the same she lay,
with lullabies of slumbered ideas
to alarm clocks yawning-
a damp, canvased awning.
Harsh upon rain soaked glass,
Friday’s mardy moon
when it dipped too soon-
the outside just too bright.
At nine, or somewhere around that time,
teeth are brushed: thorough and thrice.
Followed swift by breakfast-
injected ink of paper weight pages
and sooted shards of downcast
At the desk, everything had been said
originality erodes in it’s tomb:
With a half- heart, poised pen apart,
failed words and sanity,
at home, feeling so far
Weeks marked by times crumbled apart,
melting into the cold fever
of distorted calendars,
watch, as they fall
like a house of cards.
But think of the beauty in it all.
Static, enviable, yet achromatic
screens are watched.
frozen, shelves clean, pristine-
suspended from another world.
Wait. Darkness looms, a soulless slate,
Like Friday, unmoved in shadowed clouds,
Suffocating skin that feels no wind.
Restless eyes, half closed on Keats
On this unmade bed of blank sheets.
Leaves waltz in the showered breeze,
open window. Untouched air.
Oh, to not drown in dust, sinking,
heavy as raindrops. To float in streets,
where nature walks free.
Anisha a 17 year old writer from Manchester, passionate about poetry and the power of words. As a climate activist, I have performed spoken word poetry at the Royal Exchange Theatre in ‘Letters to the Earth’. I have also written articles on religion, social media and events in a local newspaper, as well as blogging for students and libraries.Follow my blog for regular poetry and articles: https://ajmwritesonline.wordpress.com/ Twitter: @Anisha_Jaya
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