Lockdown Dance

Lockdown Dance

Lonely in lockdown

I keep company with the colours of the many versions of myself,

all of them, dancing, wriggling, moving and shifting,

adjusting to a new idea of what it is to be

alive and thriving

a life-force, freeing themselves up from the conventions

of what it once was to be constrained, constricted and conquered by

the coiling, controlling, and certifying

constraints of Captains, Commanders and


Copyright of poem & image owned by Jay Cool, December 2020


Business As Normal

Business As Normal

Big surge. Fast spread.

No end in sight.

Breakfast briefing at Downing Street.

Full English.

Boris bursting with bacon.


Carpets bloody, but getting on with it.


As normal.

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, November 16th, 2020

Image by Pexels from Pixabay




Fifty million doses.

Enough for two and a half million people.

A good spread.

Not available yet.

But critical.

Plausible, effective and willing, but not able to

quite r e a c h t h e e d g e s

and not even able to land in the middle.

Not even a droplet

ready for roll-out,

as yet.

But a big, important – MEGA!

Potentially-significant microspread!

Copyright owned by Jay Cool

Inspired by Downing Street`s Coronavirus Briefing, Monday 15th November, 2020

Image by Ken Boyd from Pixabay


Total Lockdown – A Poem

Locked in.

Sprogs at school.

Hubby at work.

All breathing, mixing, inhaling.

And all due to return


And here I am. A mum locked


A sitting duck.


As always.

Copyright owned by Jay Cool

Image by Manfred Richter from Pixabay

The Travesty of The Ping

Locked in for eight days;

just two more to go,

before setting foot on the –

Not yet.

Not even one foot in and the other one out,

and yet,

today, I hear, not from the app, but from a voice transmitted upon radio waves:

“It is not illegal, people must remember, to go out to work, after a ping,


you must not, cannot, work if a member of Track and Trace gives you a ring.”

Just lost £300, the last days of a contract job (no sick pay included),

for a ping –

that was not, as it turns out, the same thing as being given a ring.

And if I had been given a ring –

not at all my thing –

I could at least have

pawned it.

Copyright of poem owned by Jay Cool and her empty bank account, 16th July 2021

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

Pressure – Silly-Savvy Poem


Lockdown, lockdown, when we going to lockdown?

Now we’re in, now we’re in, when we going to get out?

Lockdown, lockdown, when we going to lockdown?

Get us out, get us out, when you going to get us out?

Relax, caution, relax, caution.


Last one, hold on, last one, hold on.

Hassle, hassle – set it out!

When you going to get us out?

Too soon. Act soon. Hold on. Out.

Back in, back in, when can we go back in?

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, 15th February 2021

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Boris Looks Back …

Boris Looks Back …

It may be that we need to do things in the coming weeks …..

Take your time, Boris, why don`t you?

Wait until the problems pile up and then, perhaps, take action!

Tis always best to have the benefit of hind


isn`t it?

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, 1st January 2011

Image by 25621 from Pixabay

To My Beloved Boris

Dear Beloved Boris,

Mixed messages from you this morning.

  • The virus is out of control and further restrictions may be necessary.
  • Schools are safe!

Of all places, how can a classroom full of 30+ children, sitting in twos, who are not allowed to wear face masks[1], be safe? Where is the logic in your statement, please? All evidence available points to this conclusion:

Schools are lethal!

Pinch yourself, Boris and WAKE UP!

Best regards,

From a mum who is no longer sure whether she lives on the planet Earth or not!

[1] My child`s Heads of School will not allow him to wear a face-mask in the classroom, on the basis that they are following government guidelines which suggest that face-masks in the classroom can be harmful! What?

Looking At Where I Am

A poem inspired by Boris Johnsons Brexit negotiations, as reported by, BBC2 Newsnight, 10 December 2020.

Looking at where I am, I find myself at a dinner table, in Brussels, and

devoid of the anticipated fish dinner,

feeling downbeat, hungry, full of regrets

and with just

three weeks to go

before my people, The British, turn to feast,

in desperation, upon

each other.

Get a grip, I tell myself. Such an eventuality is really no big deal.

And on an upbeat note – unencumbered by Dom Boy, and unencumbered by the people –

it will be so easy for me, with such a very, very clear runway, to go that extra mile – and to


Complete and unadulterated sovereignty.

Better for Britain.

And, such is my situation that there is no

going back. Not for me. Now now. Not ever.

Copyright owned by Jay Cool, 11 December, 2020