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 "Quomondo sedet sola civitas. Vanity of vanities, all is vanity."
- Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited 

Maybe this quotation should be at the top of every author website.

Nevertheless, every author training course everywhere says every author should have a website, so at last, A Bit of Bruce proudly presents ... The Author Website!

For the manually inclined, just type brucemarsland.com into that bar at the top of your screen, and press enter.

For the mousers, click the image.  You know the drill.

A post about a feed about a blog

A bit of a bit of Bruce's poetry is for sale!

Yes, there are now two ways to own your very own bit of a bit of Bruce.

Option 1: Amazon

My very own piece of Amazon virtual real estate, in the form of an author page, is up and running.  It includes a feed from this blog, so don't get lost in the ol' click to infinity there.  Just choose a book and buy it.  Simple.

Option 2: Lulu

Or, if you're more of a kind of indy type of person who prefers to go to the authentic source, the alternative kicks involve heading over to my *other* author page on Lulu.  Get the feed direct from the horse's mouth, so to speak.  Hipster heaven.

Either way.  Hey.  Go crazy.

Quarantining: Poems in the Time of Corona

A collection of Poems in the Time of Corona, from this blog, is now available in a printed collector's edition.

Order and find out more at Lulu:
Quarantining: Poems in the Time of Corona

Support a poet. Buy a book.
Quarantining: poems in the time of Corona
Magnetic Resonance Imaging: lyrics of love and loss
Those Footsteps Behind: around the world in 50 poems

Covid-19: the mystery virus

Poems in the time of Corona

 
Support a poet. Buy a book.
Magnetic Resonance Imaging: lyrics of love and loss
Those Footsteps Behind: around the world in 50 poems

The hypochondriac shepherd to his love

Poems in the time of Corona

The hypochondriac shepherd to his love
after Christopher Marlowe

Quarantine with me in latex gloves
And we will careful measures prove
That keep us safe, as we lack meds
To stop us dying in our beds.

And we will monitor our chests,
Hoping our lungs are free of pests,
And if we laboured breathing note,
Check for a soreness in the throat.

And I will bring thee morning tea,
A thousand pills of vitamin C,
A cotton mask, a wi-fi key,
And meals delivered contact free.

If pink eye strikes us or pink toesies,
Which bode ill like old ring o' roses,
We will take oximetric scores
And temperatures and stay indoors.

If nettle wine loses its taste
Then to the clinic we will haste
To swab our tonsils with a stick;
Pray God we are not awful sick.

The shepherds' swains are feverish
So stay as long as is thy wish:
If prophylaxis thy mind moves,
Quarantine with me in latex gloves.




Support a poet. Buy a book.
Magnetic Resonance Imaging: lyrics of love and loss
Those Footsteps Behind: around the world in 50 poems

Let me count the days

Poems in the time of Corona

Let me count the days
after Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I shelter? Let me count the days.
I shelter all the morn and noon and night
My nerves can stand, as headlines feed my fright
And tell me I should stay here in my place.
I shelter unless shopping just by ways
Of dire need, for wines both red and white.
I shelter wisely, like owls at a height;
I shelter calmly, like bats in their caves.
I shelter with a six-foot rule to use
When I'm outside, for dread of others' breath.
I shelter with a mask I dare not lose
For loss of sense. I shelter fearing death.
Skype, Zoom, are all my life; and by the news
I shall still shelter months: sixth, seventh, eighth....




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Magnetic Resonance Imaging: lyrics of love and loss
Those Footsteps Behind: around the world in 50 poems

The Vyrus

Poems in the time of Corona

The Vyrus
after William Blake

Vyrus! Vyrus! burning bright,
Spread to ev'ry country's fright,
What infernal quarantine
Could help me not to breathe thee in?

In what place of ill-renown
Did thy proteins form thy crown?
In what air were they respired?
What the breath that hath thee sired?

At what market stall or lab
Did thy spiky fingers grab?
And when a human came to eat,
What soil'd hand and what live meat?

Vyrus! Vyrus! dirty rat,
Via pangolin after bat,
What infernal quarantine
Dare turn me vegetarian?



Support a poet. Buy a book.
Magnetic Resonance Imaging: lyrics of love and loss
Those Footsteps Behind: around the world in 50 poems

Daffodils

Poems in the time of Corona

Daffodils
after William Wordsworth

I pondered Covid in my house
Then at the shop where minor thrills
Were all there was to please my spouse:
A vase of mouldy daffodils.
Lone on the shelf, behind the glass,
Limp in a clump of dry, brown grass.

Nevertheless, I claimed my prize
And took my place within the line
Stretched from the checkout to the pies
Behind the baker's old 'closed' sign.
Ten thousand customers, I thought,
Had passed this way and coughed and bought.

Towards the cashier I advanced,
Not daring to adjust my mask,
Which tickled as my neighbours glanced
With envy at my golden flask:
Yes, I had sprightly swooped to buy
A Riesling that had caught my eye.

So now when on my couch I lie,
Made pensive by a sudden chill,
I take a sip of wine and sigh
How daffodils might make me ill.
At least I have some peaceful hours:
My spouse adores those bloody flowers.



Support a poet. Buy a book.
Magnetic Resonance Imaging: lyrics of love and loss
Those Footsteps Behind: around the world in 50 poems

Do not go out at night, stay in by day

Poems in the time of Corona

Do not go out at night, stay in by day
after Dylan Thomas

Do not go out at night, stay in by day;
To stop the rage of Covid, do what's right.
Since this began, my temples have turned grey.

We may not like it, but it is the way;
Support the nurses, clap, switch on your light:
Do not go out at night, stay in by day.

Return your concert tickets, scrap your play,
Or all those graphs will leap from height to height;
Since this began, my temples have turned grey.

Log in online and order take-away
Then use your balcony to fly a kite;
Do not go out at night, stay in by day.

When this is over, we can proudly say
We faced adversity but did alright.
Since this began, my temples have turned grey.

Go gentle with yourself; pour Cabernet.
Yes, you can do this; just keep up the fight:
Do not go out at night, stay in by day.
Since this began, my temples have turned grey.




Support a poet. Buy a book.
Magnetic Resonance Imaging: lyrics of love and loss
Those Footsteps Behind: around the world in 50 poems

Shall I compare thee? (Covid-19)

Poems in the time of Corona

Shall I compare thee? (Covid-19)
after William Shakespeare (Sonnet 18)
on the (probable) anniversary of his birth and death

Shall I compare thee to the Spanish flu?
Art thou more deadly and more disparate?
Tough minds do chart your likely spread in June,
And isolation's end hath long to wait;
Some said in heat Corona would be gone,
And your rank visage would in summer die,
A miracle, gold crowns burn'd in the sun,
With nature back to normal by and by;
But promise in the season had to fade,
Losing the halt of quarantine at hand;
Now we do shelter longer in the shade,
While contact under six feet's sadly bann'd:
   So long as breath can poison we must see,
   Such sacrifice of freedom sets us free.



Support a poet. Buy a book.
Magnetic Resonance Imaging: lyrics of love and loss
Those Footsteps Behind: around the world in 50 poems

To breathe or not to breathe

Poems in the time of Corona

To breathe or not to breathe
after William Shakespeare

To breathe or not to breathe, there is no question,
though there's Corona in the air to torture
our lungs, our viscus of outrageous fortune,
or defy balms against its novel troubles
and by inhaling end us. To cry – to weep
for all; and in weeping to fear our end,
with heartburn and blood pressure, nature's jokes
our flesh is prone to: 'tis an apparition
of sorts we must control. To cry, to weep;
to weep, perhaps despair – another foe:
for in despair feared death brings death for real,
and so we suffer nightmares beyond sleep
when we need hope – which is our cure
until a vaccine can restore our lives.




Support a poet. Buy a book.
Magnetic Resonance Imaging: lyrics of love and loss
Those Footsteps Behind: around the world in 50 poems

Hi, Windows!

Poems in the time of Corona

Hi, Windows!
A Philip Larkin montage

Erotic messaging began
in the year two thousand and three,
which was a little too late for me.

Now we live our daze online,

where Windows lets your mum and dad
mail each other from separate rooms,
discussing what's for lunch and mad
the restaurant sends you plastic spoons.

I'd bring the plumber and the electrician
running over the fields
to begin my kitchen afresh,

but instead there's Larkin's priest and doctor
on cable news
saying they were out of gowns,
showing a ventilator unbroken.



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Magnetic Resonance Imaging: lyrics of love and loss
Those Footsteps Behind: around the world in 50 poems

Marking time

Poems in the time of Corona

Marking time

How change arrives on supersonic wings.

Disaster flies at you, striking
before the boom of its approach.

Recovery plods behind, an exhausted
steeplechaser drenched in liquid mercury.

Isolated and restrained, the time from
Monday morning to Monday lunchtime

is stretched to a week in the rack.

Scribbled wish lists and to-do lists crumble,
giving way like ancient papyrus

to the sharp strike-through of cancelled plans.

In frustration, we grab time by the neck
to interrogate today about tomorrow,

but time won't squeal,

and so we beat and frogmarch time outside
to shoot it as we would a rabid cat,

then hurry back to find time has escaped
again and faces us on all sides

with the delirious tick of a thousand
atomic, quartz, and mechanical clocks.




Support a poet. Buy a book.
Magnetic Resonance Imaging: lyrics of love and loss
Those Footsteps Behind: around the world in 50 poems

Do the quarantine hop

Poems in the time of Corona

Do the quarantine hop
after XTC

I have learned it's a terrible time at the shop.
Don't come near me at the church or the corner bus-stop.
There's no nuts and no crisps available even for swap.
But I'm older now so I can buy beer at the shop.

Show me where do you stay,
Show me where do you stay.
It's time now:
Do the quarantine hop, boys and girls.

Call up the cool kids drumming a balcony bop.
Live-stream your housebound vlogs of rock and of pop.
You've had enough of solitaire on your laptop.
Grab a mic and a wipe, sing out and then never stop.

Show me where do you stay,
Show me where do you stay.
It's time now:
Do the quarantine hop, boys and girls.

I have learned it's a terrible time at the shop.
Don't come near me at the park or the corner bus-stop.
There's no hand sanitiser available even for swap.
Yes, I'm older now so I can buy beer at the shop.

Show me where do you stay,
Show me where do you stay.
It's time now:
Do the quarantine hop, boys and girls.



Support a poet. Buy a book.
Magnetic Resonance Imaging: lyrics of love and loss
Those Footsteps Behind: around the world in 50 poems

Just another Covid Sunday

Poems in the time of Corona

Just another Covid Sunday

Easter time,
and all the little Covids
are playing in the park,

chicks chirping, bunnies hopping,
kids sheltering in place

with Friends on repeat
and a bowl of last week's spaghetti,

as Yeats's falcon
spins silently out of view.

Our life is now
a survivalist game-show:
six feet or bust,
the latest loser.

As a century ago,
the brave are ordered over the top
with insufficient cover,

this time in scrubs
not ammunition boots,

this time with us entrenched behind,
cowering from an invisible air force,
applauding when we reach another sundown,

wondering if nature
will grant us resurrection,

another hour to come round at last,

to heal,
to find conviction,
transform, rebalance, set right.




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Magnetic Resonance Imaging: lyrics of love and loss
Those Footsteps Behind: around the world in 50 poems

No like like like

Poems in the time of Corona

No like like like

You've liked mine
and I've liked yours;

we've liked together, alone.

Like in a box,
like in isolation,
like a click on a like
like Heisenberg's like.

A like like no other like.



Support a poet. Buy a book.
Magnetic Resonance Imaging: lyrics of love and loss
Those Footsteps Behind: around the world in 50 poems

The Antidisenlightenment

Poems in the time of Corona

The Antidisenlightenment

We're screaming at science:
where did you go?

We've listened to doubters,
but now we believe.

We've elected naysayers
but now want to know:

the serum, the vaccines,
the drugs for relief.

We're waiting here,
science, come on!

But do shut up about climate change,
won't you?



Support a poet. Buy a book.
Magnetic Resonance Imaging: lyrics of love and loss
Those Footsteps Behind: around the world in 50 poems

A very quiet apocalypse

Poems in the time of Corona

A very quiet apocalypse

Sirens drowned
the perpetual sound
of wheels and engines
making time on the highway.

Some dire emergency.

That was yesterday,
or maybe last week,
perhaps last year.

Today the city is braced
on its couch,

strapped in for three months
of economy class turbulence,
with just a TV screen,
cheap wine, and salted peanuts,

twitching as nature
goes viral outside:

bad news kestrels
swooping on statistics,
bearing them aloft
and pronouncing doom.

Defending my keep,
I count tablets –
zinc, iron, vitamins C and D –
and scrub my palms
like the Scottish Queen,

as if she ever shopped
for bananas,

waiting for dusk,
a fluttering calm
deceptive like a ninja;
noctillionine,
the silence of the bats,

so still
I can no longer hear the road.




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Magnetic Resonance Imaging: lyrics of love and loss
Those Footsteps Behind: around the world in 50 poems

Social distancing

Poems in the time of Corona

Social distancing

Downloading
Sensory Perception (version six),

compressed file format,
debugged

of inessential functions
touch, taste, smell,

my system freezes.

For that brief forever time,
I hold my breath alone

in Universe (version one),

my only companion
a rotating blue circle

that curses and chides and mocks
before it sighs inaudibly

and spews up
pixelated thumbnails

of offline contacts;
the white screen of life.

Back in action now,
I update my feed,

my words digested
by webcrawlers

then shat back at me
as personally targeted ads.

One of them wants me
to buy life insurance,

so there's hope, I guess.



Support a poet. Buy a book.
Magnetic Resonance Imaging: lyrics of love and loss
Those Footsteps Behind: around the world in 50 poems