THE ASTORIAN • SATuRdAy, AuguST 8, 2020
B1
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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.
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wind and water reshaped the landscape into
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miniature farrowsand rivulets, diminutive voica-
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and seashdl whorls
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and
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were
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crushed, but instead nestled safely In «cùlptoa
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birds
with ^
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knobby knees hurried up and down, back and 'u,
forth, thefa rations soitTylng with them across
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the wet sand. When
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Nearby, a O
group
of nf
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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.
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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,
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[Ocubny for i news from oar almi^K+y Saijer.
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How Iona -to/s Virus w i l l \as\ i s anyoncs
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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.