Prisnoer X 4 Poem by Paul Brookes

Locked in I'm tense wondering
there it is, that tense, the wrong tense
the sentence is not for life just for living
life is for being but we are intense.

so coiled in imaginationthose paper tigers growl,
howling at wolves at the door
soft maws, drawn claws scratching.

Isolation is for your own good they say,
as I go slowly mad, doors locked.
we are locked down.
I watch the free, smiling,
taking strolls in the park but not for me.

the masks and disinfectant infect, affect my mood
alcohol smell of gels sticky agents.

girls in summer dresses, blue, pink or floral
stroll in the park
crisp cotton mornings and dewy fresh eyes,
happiness perfuming the air with children's laughter

boys in shorts try to impress with one handed push ups,
carefree and dandy they stroll laugh an cajole the
girls who toss their curls coquettish.

locked in my oubliette
freedom of the mind is hard to come by
bars at the window are mental not metal.