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About The daily Astorian. (Astoria, Or.) 1961-current | View Entire Issue (Aug. 8, 2020)
THE ASTORIAN • SATuRdAy, AuguST 8, 2020 B1 WEEKEND Q BREAK CONTACT US Alyssa Evans aevans@dailyastorian.com FOLLOW US facebook.com/ DailyAstorian POEMS OF OF THE THE PANDEMIC PANDEMIC POEMS T T By ALYSSA EVANS The Astorian o avoid losing touch with friends, Dorothy Antilla came up with an idea in the early days of the coronavirus pandemic. Antilla, a 92-year-old resident of Raymond, Washington, created a poetry challenge. She started the challenge by writing her own pandemic-themed prose, then asked her friends to mail back a response. “Her letter included a poem written by her and a page of ‘Peanuts’ comics to help cheer their days,” said Senja Antilla, Dorothy’s daughter. Friends from Canada, Washington and Oregon participated, creating unique poems that encapsulate their experiences during the pandemic. GOT MAIL? By Beth Kandoll in Astoria There was a young woman named Dorothy She was told she must stay home remotely Away from her friends, near where the road ends round the corner from county seat South Bend. A stranger to no one She took pencil and pen And a game she devised that would send A message — a greeting — a challenge — and more A poetry contest uniquely her own. Now the contest had no rules and no winners No prizes such as hotel stays and free dinners The poets were told to stay home and look inward so the game was afoot and the players were primed with a challenge to put pen or pencil to rhyme. And write they did with such boisterous style that the mail lady could not help but smile at the volume of mail that was postmarked remotely To the bend in the road To a young woman named Dorothy. dea_r tv-iend'b, A.re ^ >e ^> r 'mnc^Vo ooo^Aer ^ Vlheti \\\fy penciE.’tn.a sVuiVi will et\df ^ OK, Lulled Vo cjo Vo Weep boretWn A ba»j I \^k.le waiVino ţ3aV\em\.W \- 0 \\4~ar ^ Whal Govenom ihslee ujA\ ôau * £ ôKouU we V^A cx aood book, bake £4 ÄÜ.°-pri il No. "1 VppA j-U l I rcjgçj\ < 'cnaev- roa*n . eed +n^ hrds . uxrfiiK +U,? l 4- ^ V ^ AnJ uJKvte a. peemi ; hummers |u SW ;* ui,Wi «nt-^o.^.53^5- Uots o\ Löve _ Dcar^-\\U Oneday cars stopped coming to the beach. \T s. % Receding seas washed dean the scars even as : i ţ, ’ wind and water reshaped the landscape into & aO-ff^ iX ¿rfsîA \ miniature farrowsand rivulets, diminutive voica- \1 , »» 'Wr T°' nues, and tiny crusted bluffs. Whole sand dollars and seashdl whorls rvuuns wa*hed wu*j>c<i ashore ranorc and aim were weie not 1 crushed, but instead nestled safely In «cùlptoa Muui. aj ujc snoreune, sowuis onca Diraswith yi sand Atthe shoreline, stream lined birds with ^ T knobby knees hurried up and down, back and 'u, forth, thefa rations soitTylng with them across X* 0 *'’ nun uicy .// ' - the wet sand. When they wcic were urea, tired, iney they ionic id. led A Vi C t plact down on spindly legs, resting peacefully in place. 'j -V, NMVhU. imum milt« a >£«% W ..L /.« y\ J.6 Nearby, a O group of nf gulls also took a breek o.-i rt U the dark and sparkling sands, undisturbed. An eagle coasted low over the water plOling back and reaching outio land ao* blcached and contorted root twistingskyward. "Though I had been there many times. 1 icfc as though 5 were seeing the place for the first time. K . On reflection, I never turn to the sea Ln search of U tfie boy lybv? In tl« grass, sjudy the in^ of dve yet anoiiier busy sheet, buc in the hope of finding beetle making its way through a miniature world. a place of peace and grounding, And now it seems Someday you too, will be making your way difficult to understand how it is that v/e have through your world- But for now. the worid can watt mistaken «ucha rich and remarkable habit« for a for little iXA'S. irtntc highway little boys need to lie in the grass and study the tick of the beetle. % f \ ,x\ ^ ■ A LAMENT By Rosemarie Leclair in South Bend, Washington “I’ve been too long under house arrest.” So this is very difficult to do my best. How do you write about the “pandemic?” Especially when you are not at all academic. I was inspired by what Dorothy wrote. I am sure everyone got her note. You know she used to teach, But she was never one to “preach.” So I will just moan and groan here at home, And wish that I could write a poem! Dorothy Antilla, 92, mailed a letter to friends asking them to send a poem inspired by the coronavirus pandemic. Si'Hina <x+ horn*, try ing do ike- |fe ae\ ^0qeJth&c vui+h -fner\d$ j so "bok off m<j bling. AN UNEXPECTED ADVENTURE By Jim and Fran Allen in Aberdeen, Washington Starting in October 2019 for five months in a camper van we traveled. By March our nerves were beginning to become a bit unraveled. We went lots of places and saw lots of things. Our travel pattern was like the birds with open wings. Through 18 states and 10,000 miles Most of the time our faces were all smiles. Along the way we began to hear of “19.” Our kids said “Come home,” but there were places yet unseen. We went for toilet paper at a store in the mountains of New Mexico. But did we find any? Oh no! The place was going crazy and people were getting rough. So I told Fran “That’s enough.” In three days of steady driving We finally were at our home arriving. Looking forward to not being on the go. But what we were greeted with was quite a blow. Staying home took on a different meaning. Now we watch the birds eat and the cat slowly preening. When we go to town our faces are not covered with smiles, but masks. “How much longer is this going on?” everyone asks. Nobody knows the real answer. But all this can be a life enhancer To take life a little slower and observe small things, as we should. And always remember no matter what, life is good. LIFE IN COVID By Carol and John Folk in Astoria Life in Covid- Oh what fun! Trying not to be scathing about the insanity raging. If this is my last year here may it be happy, peaceful and bright - with blossoms and sunlight - with FaceTiming grandkids - Zooming book group - planting and watering garden - scooping up slugs and transporting them way across the yard! Yes, life is precious - Whether slug or bug or 90-year-old or young Red, Blue - So far no one’s reported covid corpses tiling, Evtnj-H^i/*q5 locked Acvjm, hny kair /S cj<^Tcu\er y [Ocubny for i news from oar almi^K+y Saijer. AU tKe^ voteAs ^WeJ l and +he chores are all dcre „ Normally, & would ^ ior some* £^*1 * How Iona -to/s Virus w i l l \as\ i s anyoncs IOoidwinq Wca; oar world in +h.‘s So -fur y \ coj ,£H sit tV'+K my gin and +«ifc, Ar'ct dream of -f-hi?. ciiUj I «SomeujW 6Aofio, Vancouver Vancouver resident resident Sue Tuttle's Sue Tuttle’s poem. poem. by their political bent. I wonder whether the graves speak to our stupidity. Black, white, Latino — Americans, all If you live here, you’re my kin. So, dig up a little compost- Thank the little earthworms Water the spinach Treasure this one precious day. Life is better than NOT! COVID SPRING 2020 By Beth Kandoll in Astoria I think this robin would prefer we stay inside Wait out this lockdown. For several years it has built a nest Close to our house. It paces — ever watchful. We dig in the dirt Watch seedlings grow — protect them from predators And inclement weather It paces — ever watchful. We prune branches of overgrown shrubs Pull weeds Create new garden beds. It paces — ever watchful. We wash cars. It’s a yearly chore. Clean the moss and pollen from the crevices It paces — ever watchful. We wait for a return To a “new normal” Wait — until we can mingle without masks. Greet people on the sidewalk without crossing to the other side. We wait — ever watchful. We wait — somewhat hopeful. SOMETIMES YOU JUST NEED By Marcia Walker in Port Orchard, Washington Dear Dorothy, Roses are red Violets are blue Many people have “Covid” But hopefully not YOU! *4 Kate O'Neal, of South Bend, Washington, created this poem. Kate O’Neal, of South Bend, Washington, created this poem. UNTITLED By Jill Monson in Kent, Washington Here we are, at home with our thoughts Watching the rain and counting the drops. Even in quarantine I live in gratitude, always remembering it’s all about attitude. How will this play out? We don’t know. But on science and Dr. Fauci my hope does grow, that the suffering of many will soon lessen, and eventually there’ll be a saving medicine.
