Survivalist Failures No.3: Hone Your Hunting Skills © Kourtney Roy
By Sarah Allen
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Look at you there
with your side floppy hair
and your Superman boots
clinging on to the roots.
In your bed of daisies
when all the days get hazy
and the boundaries of crazy
Given the word
do you think you’ll stop me in my tracks
with your baked bean can that smacks
of a Covid plan.
Are you sure it’s me that’s trapped?
Who’s wearing the mask
as you put to task all efforts at last
By Ellie Ramsden
Dorothy’s been out for three days straight
Wandering about like she owns the place,
How dare she dig, peck and shit on my lawn
I’ll make her wish she never was born
But how will I catch this monster?
I’ll make a trap, that’s what I’ll do!
A can of beans, a stick and a wooden door
She won’t know what hit her when she hits the floor
Everything’s set as I climb into place
I want to get real close to see the look on her face
Creeping closer and closer, the minutes go by
I hope this little creature is ready to die
Dorothy approaches the can with intent
I’m ready to pull the cord, to end it all
But then I catch a look in her eye
A look that tells me she isn’t ready to die
What a fool I’ve been! I must stop this at once
Run away, I say, it’s not safe for you here
Dorothy squarks, I pull back, alarmed
And that was it, she was dead and
I watched as her head rolled down my lawn
Corona Capers No. 1
By Susan Brice
“Behold a door, held up but not beholden to any one.
The question is, who rules the roost?
The heroine who had never heard of 3M until the ides of March
and who thought that survival was a Bear Gryll’s party trick?
or the cock whose crow had only ever scared her until now
and whose tunes seem so familiar and soothing?
The answer is in the mind of the beholder, who holds the key to the door.”
In times of Coronavirus in isolation,
Survival has become the desired destination.
Avoiding neighbour’s has become the norm;
Climbing a tree even to keep us from harm.
When supermarket shelves are not reliable,
Foraging food becomes necessary for survival.
Honing hunting skills are where time must be spent to prevent starvation becoming the lament.
While the race continues to find the vaccination to bring restoration.
The population must hibernate and stay safe in this war of viral trepidation.
Henley The Red Hen
By Del Barrett
Henley the red hen lived chez Roy
And a very smart hen was she.
Her daily egg brought great joy
And was devoured with glee
But then one day, the virus struck
And all around the town
The shops, they cried “you’re out of luck
Today we’re locking down”
Empty shelves and cupboards bare
No scrap of food was found,
Then they cancelled the local fayre
“Stay home, stay safe, stay sound!”
They ate the beans, the loo rolls too
Pasta and rice were gone,
The coffee was out, no tea for a brew.
And all awhile the sun shone
Kourtney had an idea for a feast
Where Henley would meet her fate
She’d capture the little red-headed beast
With rope and a bit of old gate
Henley meanwhile, with great aplomb,
Stood erect and staring.
The knot that would release her bomb,
So red, so bold, so daring
Henley worked out Kourtney’s plan
She knew her end was nigh
Her destiny was coq-au-vin
Or even chicken pie
She flapped her wings, tried to fly
Remembered they’d been clipped
She really was too young to die
And lie in chicken crypt
She stamped her claws, faced her foe
And said “Let’s make a deal.
Three daily eggs I’ll lay in woe
And you can make a meal”
“Of daisies you have a-plenty,
They make a lovely tea;
Or a salad made with twenty,
Will be enough for thee”
Kourtney at first expressed surprise
To hear the chicken speak
But noted down the sound advice
That came from Henley’s beak
So she surfed the net for daisies
And found the hen was right.
Kourtney sang young Henley’s praises
And smiled with pure delight
The little red hen kept her vow
And thrice a day she laid.
Fresh egg and daisy salad chow –
The survival dish they made.