by Ryan Stone
Stuck in iso, ducking for cover
from this case of Rona doing
the rounds. Worse than the time
in ’89 when Mad Dog Murphy
won the footy grand final
and half the cheer squad came
down with the clap. Stewing
over dwindling bog roll supplies,
pondering what business a bat
had in a fish market from the start.
I wanna knock back a cold one, but beer
sold out one day before crap paper. So
I chucked a sickie, coz I was feeling
rooted, and sick of going apeshit
when me bludger mates ducked out for smoko,
only to find that the doc enforces
a deuce as soon as you cough.
At least I’m one of the lucky lads—
me missus is bonza,
and keeps the ankle-biters
in line. I’m sure this will pass,
as all things pass. Before long
she’ll be apples, mate.
Ryan Stone is an Aussie who has been practicing social distancing for decades.
Today's News . . . Today's Poem
The New Verse News
presents politically progressive poetry on current events and topical issues.
Guidelines
Submission Guidelines: Send 1-3 unpublished poems in the body of an email (NO ATTACHMENTS) to nvneditor[at]gmail.com. No simultaneous submissions. Use "Verse News Submission" as the subject line. Send a brief bio. No payment. Authors retain all rights after 1st-time appearance here. Scroll down the right sidebar for the fine print.
Sunday, April 05, 2020
AUSSIE SLANG ISO POEM
Labels:
#TheNewVerseNews,
Australia,
coronavirus,
COVID-19,
iso,
Mad Dog Murphy,
poetry,
Rona,
Ryan Stone,
self-isolation,
slang