Pandemic Poetry–2021 edition, day 2

unicorn pool toy
Photo by James Lee on Unsplash

Yesterday’s writing went poorly, as I might have expected. But the weather was crisp, and our lockdown walk was a highlight of the day. 

Kia kaha New Zealand. Our bodies may be stuck at home, but our imagination doesn’t need to be.

A lockdown walk
Is a great time to talk
Of fantasy, fiction and fun.

If you had useless powers
What would they be?
Where would you go
If travel were free?

If the cat could speak
What would he say?
What would you do as
PM for a day?

If the sky were pink
And unicorns flew
Over lollipop meadows
Could you ride on them too?

If your body was stuck,
As surely it is,
In a physical rut
With your mind in a fizz,

Could you picture a world
Full of magic and light
Where your spirit could soar
On the wings of a kite?

Pandemic Poetry–2021 Edition

cat lying on a book
The cat illustrating proper lockdown behaviour.

I had a different blog post planned for today, but at 6:20 pm yesterday, the prime minister announced we were entering lockdown today. A case of Covid was detected in the community and, as it is suspected to be the Delta variant, the entire country is locked down.

So here we are again. I am thankfully no longer living in a shed, and there’s no longer a builder’s fence along our front boundary, but this morning I made sure there was a poem posted out front. 

Kia kaha everyone. Stay safe, wear a mask, and wash your hands!

We knew it might happen,
this déjà vu.
With Delta running rampant
our options were few.

We sigh, we might grumble.
It’s surely a pain
To be stuck here in lockdown,
in bubbles again.

But the reasons are sound and
the goal is quite clear.
We’ve enjoyed some rare freedom
for over a year.

If we can hold back the virus
a little while longer,
Roll out those vaccines
so the whole nation’s stronger,

We might just escape
the tragic events—
The overworked nurses
and hospital tents—

That much of the world
has suffered this year
As Delta’s roamed widely,
spreading sickness and fear.

So take a long walk,
join that meeting online,
Just hang with your bubble.
It’ll all turn out fine.

My First Book

handmade book--Rainy Day Thing

I was going through a box of old stuff the other day, and I ran across my very first ‘book’—Rainy Day Thing—a how-to about paper snowflake making.

I remember creating this book, back in 1979 in the weekly gifted class my school district bussed me to. I remember folding the snowflakes to use as examples in the book. I remember the smell of the rubber cement I used to glue them on the pages. I remember the excitement of making a real cover, and having my About the Author page laminated (Laminated! Can you believe that? This was back in the days when very few schools had laminators—we were still using mimeograph machines and chalkboards.) I even remember posing for the author photo in the school library.

I don’t remember writing my author bio, however, and 42 years later, I’m amused at what I wrote: Robinne Weiss likes to draw, play kickball, read and play baseball and play basket ball. She is 9 years old. She has a sister and a brother.

First of all, the grammar is shocking—no huge surprise there. My 9-year-old students are at least as bad. But writing isn’t on the list. (And basketball is? I don’t even remember playing basketball at that age.)

I know that I published my first poem at age nine, and at age ten I recited my poetry on the children’s television programme, Christopher’s Magic Cocoon. 

I know that somewhere in those years, I wrote a poem for my dentist, and he hung it on the wall in the waiting room (much to my later embarrassment). 

I know that I took a creative writing class in high school, and a poetry class at university. In my junior year of university, I wrote a children’s picture book (long gone, now), and published a few more poems in literary journals that no longer exist.

Author page from Rainy Day Thing

While in Peace Corps, I poured out poems, and even published a few, printed out at the Peace Corps office in Panama city and posted to magazines on my weekly trips to town. I started writing a novel (never finished).

As a Masters student in entomology, I answered essay questions in verse (I’m sure my professors thought I was nuts), and wrote regular articles for the PSU Entomology teacher newsletter, Bug Bits.

After graduation, as a professional heritage interpreter, I wrote articles for trade magazines and local newspapers (one even won an award). I wrote curriculum materials for teachers and other interpreters. I started writing another novel.

I’ve never not written.

But if you’d asked me if I was a writer, I would have said no until a few years ago. And when I did decide to close down my interpretation business to write, the decision was fraught with emotion, because even though I wanted to give writing a go, I wasn’t a writer

I’m about to release my 11th book (not counting Rainy Day Thing). My writing has improved a great deal since 1979, and my covers are no longer made of wallpaper-covered cardboard. I no longer list baseball and basketball in my author bio.

But after decades of denial, I admit I’m a writer. And I’ve been one for a very long time.

Oh, and yes, I still remember how to make a paper snowflake. Maybe I’ll write a book about it someday. 

Pandemic Poetry: Poem of the Day, May 12-13 2020

Again, I was so busy yesterday between work and painting, I didn’t get the poem up. So here are two at once.

The last two.

Tomorrow, we will shift to Level 2, in which most of us will go back to work and school. We’ll be able to meet with friends (in small numbers and with appropriate social distancing), and buy things in shops rather than online. Our classrooms and workplaces will look different, feel different. We will be nervous, excited, relieved, frightened …

But right now I have to say I’m damned proud of this nation and the heroic team effort that has gotten us to this point. There’s a long way to go before the virus is beaten, but the amazing leadership (and followers-ship) we’ve seen in New Zealand has saved lives and jobs–we only have to look abroad to see what we might have experienced without the swift and dramatic response we took.

Ka pai, Aotearoa! Go out there tomorrow and enjoy yourselves. Be safe, keep your distance, and wash your hands! Kia kaha!

Pandemic Poetry: Poem of the Day 9-11 May 2020


I’ve been so busy painting the new house, I haven’t gotten the weekend’s poems posted here, so here are three days’ worth.

Today, we’ll learn whether we’re moving to Level 2, in which most everyone will go back to work and school. It will be a big, and somewhat nerve-wracking move if we do. But it’s been amazing what Kiwis have done the past six weeks–the amount of teamwork, dedication and aroha they’ve shown has been inspiring. Ka pai!