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Writing of the Week

CORONAVIRUS


Nowhere to go



With all his usual cafes closed, the writer has nowhere to go – except deeper into those unexplored recesses of the imagination. To explore the nooks and crannies of silence hidden among the spaces of an unfamiliar home now discovered anew. To sit encased by a silent fear and somehow turn that from wordlessness into words that communicated the subtle rawness of daily existence, not just as a writer but a human being.


A fear that is no longer encased by the distant chatter of strangers providing ceaseless security is now gone, at least temporarily. What is left to bargain with? Empty solace? Is that enough to force those pitiful words from their secret hiding places?


As it turns out, yes! In spite of all that nature has forced on the writer - this too has provided inspiration. For this writer, the uncaring silence is no longer an enemy waiting to ambush him, but a foe that can be alchemised for a knowing friendship.


So that every note of silence becomes a homage to a temporary severing from a cafe, the writer's temple, to his own inner church of the silent mind, in which beautiful writing shows the richness that was always hidden.

Wil Roach



Saw the light


Another prompt for writing group got straight to the point:

'Finally, he saw the light at the end of the tunnel.'


Coronavirus


All alone, all alone

with music and books and a mobile phone.

The death toll is rising and it’s hardly surprising

no one wants to be the last one left alone.

At home on the phone, avoiding the curse,

alone and less prone to needing a nurse.

Put down the novel, as what would be worse?

That you can’t read the last page from inside a hearse.

So we sit all alone, all alone, all alone

with music and books and a mobile phone.

Jim Piotrowski



Copyright Wil Roach & Jim Piotrowski


Photo credits Wix

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