Do good men count sheep
As they enter dreamless sleep.
And bad men count heels
(And, losing count of deals
Done for fun
Fall into a troubled sleep)?
Do good men cherish each part
Of a lover’s heart.
Whilst wicked men
Take up their pen
When a girl departs,
And immortalise them in art?
The BBC reports that:
“The Dutch government has issued new guidance to single people seeking intimacy during the pandemic, advising them to find a “sex buddy”.
The National Institute for Public Health and the Environment (RIVM) says singletons should come to an arrangement with one other person.
But pairings should avoid sex if one of them suspects they have coronavirus, the advice says.
The guidance comes after critics said there was no sex advice for singles”. (See https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-52685773).
This advice strikes me as humane and eminently sensible. It is unknown how long the COVID-19 (the Corona Virus epidemic) will persist, with many believing that there will be periodic outbreaks until a vaccine is available and widely distributed.
Some scientists remain sceptical that a vaccine will be discovered in the near future. Whilst others point out that no vaccine for the common cold has ever been found and that this may be the case with COVID-19.
Here in the United Kingdom those in relationships where advised (when the Lockdown was introduced) to choose one place of abode and move in together rather than moving between different houses/flats. However social distancing rules mean that those not currently in a relationship should not be entering into one.
Whilst individuals (both single and those in relationships) have differing sex drives, and some have very little desire for sex, sex is (for most people) an inate (and frequently) strong drive. Denying those who happened to be single at the time of lockdown the right to find intimacy with a willing partner strikes me as cruel, as it denies a section of humanity the right to indulge their desire for sex with a willing adult with the same desire.
There are, of course risks with contact of any kind during the COVID-19 situation. However these need, in my view to be balanced against the psychological damage which may, I believe be caused if those single people (who wish to) are not given an outlet for their healthy desire to express themselves sexually.
It simply is not reasonable to say to people wait until a vaccine (which may never be found), is in place before you find a long (or short-term) sexual partner.
Yesterday evening, I ran a quiz for friends on Zoom. One of the questions I posed was who wrote these lines:
“My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
‘Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,—
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
Singest of summer in full-throated ease”.
The answer is, of course John Keats, the poem in question being “Ode to a Nightingale”.
Along with “Autumn”, “Ode to a Nightingale” is one of my favourite poems, written by a poet who died at a tragically young age.
You can find a wonderful reading of “Ode to a Nightingale”, read by Stephen Fry here,
.
Caught up in thought
Amidst these spring flowers.
How many hours
Have I spent
Denying that our time is lent.
Then, birdsong
Breaks through my useless thought.
And I recognise
That human eyes
Do not see for long.
And that I ought
To fill my mind
With birdsong.
Yet, I find
That my brain
Oft runs like an express train
And will not be still.
But, sometimes, its just the sky
And I
And the poignancy of birdsong,
That will not last long.
There was a young lady truly divine
Who spent much of her time online.
When on the internet
Her name was Yvette.
But she was Ted when not online …
He digs.
She
Indifferent is,
But likes what he
Will give
To dig.
He digs
A hole
And, therein, looses his soul.
She
Indifferent is
But likes what he
Will give,
To dig.
He has dug
Many a hole.
Her hug
Is cold.
But she
Likes what he
Will give
To dig.
I enjoyed this poem by Veronica, hence the share.
I would give my last breath to be with you - We can't find solace in a wistful dream: No pain is greater than a brief adieu! Amidst the galaxy's celestial view, By night and day, my earthly fears grow thin: I would give my last breath to be with you. The sorrowful farewell hits me anew: Your trembling hands, eyes - desperate and grim - No pain is greater than a brief adieu! This ruthless anguish I cannot subdue: Your spirit comes to me - sublime, yet dim. I would give my last breath to be with you… Alas, the woeful memories pierce through My heart, immured…
View original post 45 more words
There was a young lady named Lou
Who said, “I never will politics do.
My nextdoor neighbour
Always votes Labour.
But I’m a Conservative through and through!”.
Girls in short clothes
Still go by.
But, the pubs are all closed
And I
Feel the unreal, steal
Over England.
One should not
Shake a hand.
But the weather is hot
And girls in short clothes
Go by.
But the pubs are closed
And I
Voice the unspoken,
“How many little communities will reopen?
And how many die?”.
The pub is part
(And sometimes the heart)
Of local society.
How much variety
Will we lose?
Its not merely booze
But birds of diverse feather
Coming together,
Through diversity in unity.
I have the park.
But thoughts dark
Come to me.
Girls in short clothes
Still go by
But the pubs are closed
And variety
Can, so easily die.
There was a young lady named Maude
Who, feeling extremely bored
Said, to miss Bess,
Let us both undress”.
And the general unsheathed his great sword.
K Morris - Poet 