Wrath n Bubble (life in isolation)

Posted: Friday Apr 24, 2020

The bubble is a fragile thing – of iridescent skin
and every size conceivable – they’re microscopic thin
the myst’ry of enquiring minds – is that these structures hold
the orb of flexibility – is wondrous to behold
And children time immutable – have laughed at bubbles flown
and with the skills of talk and walk – they learned to blow their own
we’ve learned with them to fight our fires – for tasks of work and play
but fun can fade when you are told – to ‘IN THE BUBBLE STAY?’

The rule of physics that applies – to hold the bubble’s shape
were governmentally applied – to us, lest we escape
the space within the membrane wall – in isolation there
and we, the sheep, stared dumbly out – from separation’s sphere
we had the chance to fill our orb – with things we’d really need
and chance was lost to clear the place – of things that make us bleed
the value of ‘necessities’ – was judged by what we saw
the toilet rolls, the bread and flour – were fought for, tooth and claw!

At first it was a bit of fun – with lots of bubble jokes
but we all love our elbow room – we’re not restriction folks
the problems expeditiously – by formula increased
the number of inhabitants – like swelling baker’s yeast
the quirks and ways of those we love – soon drove us to despair
and nerves we thought so robust, were – exposed, in poor repair
the lucky ones could ‘work from home’ – it seemed the perfect cure
but output meaningful is hard – while peace, one must adjure

We learned the oxymoron of – the state of ‘civil’ war
and then we fixed vindictive eyes – on those outside the door
to see them flout the lockdown rules – brought envy’s ugly twin
we called the cops, so long despised, – and dobbed the mongrels in
We honed our skills to razor edge – of situation whinge
consuming data megabytes – of Netflix garbage binge
the days have merged to hazy mist – in slaking boredom’s thirst
it only takes a little prick – to cause a bubble burst!

The bubbles that I love the best – are bubbles of the mind
For in these clouds of cerebral – I’ll never be confined
I mix the places that I love – with those I’ve never seen
Cascading waters of the bush – and vibrant mountain scene
The smell of kowhai after frost – and rata’s flowering scent
the whistling beat of kererū – and snap of breezy tent
The chains of curfew fall away – as their Achilles heel
was found to be the weakest link – for they were never real!