I’ve got the isolation blues.
I feel I’m going to blow a fuse.
At first, it seemed a happy day:
Twelve weeks off work on full pay!
But now, alas! I’m feeling sad
And hoping that I don’t go mad.
This is not the life I’d choose –
I’ve got the isolation blues!
The mono-block has all been cleaned;
The flower beds are looking preened;
the fence looks smart, without a taint
(Up to where I ran out of paint!);
The desk’s no longer heaped with stuff
But still my soul cries out, “Enough!”.
These humdrum tasks cannot diffuse
The cursed isolation blues.
I can’t get out to have a drink
Or hear a poem to make me think.
I’d strum a tune – the thought’s a must;
The problem is, an E-string’s bust!
And now, the rain is tumbling down –
No wonder that I wear a frown!
The media, full of horrid news,
Compounds the isolation blues.
The pile of books is rising high –
Anthologies reach to the sky;
half-finished prose works, stuffed in files,
All stretch along for miles and miles;
And yet I spat – oh, foolish thing!
With Yanks who think that Trump is king.
Their online sycophantic views
Increase the isolation blues.
I want to do my conscious bit
And find some work for which I’m fit.
My own job’s tasks are office-bound;
A role for me cannot be found.
And so I try to fill my time
By churning out some sorry rhyme,
then tell myself old Milton’s fate:
They also serve who stand – and wait.
And so, dear friends, I have to stay
At home to keep the bugs at bay.
Responsibility is key,
Although it is frustrating me.
the longer we all stay at home,
The surer we’ll get out to roam
My empty diary I peruse –
The cupboard’s running out of booze –
I’d even rather go a cruise! –
I hate the isolation blues!!!
by James Murdoch Ewing