Thursday, January 21st: Pandemic Poetry Loneliness, love, and COVID reflections. Share Updated: 8:00 PM EST Jan 21, 2021 Thursday, January 21st: Pandemic Poetry Loneliness, love, and COVID reflections. Share Updated: 8:00 PM EST Jan 21, 2021 Hide Transcript Show Transcript UNIQUE ANTHOLOGY CAPTURING THE PANDEMIC THROUGH POETRY. >> ROUGHLY 129 AMERICANS ARE TESTING POSITIVE EVERY SINGLE MINUTE. >> WE ARE RUNNING ON EMPTY. >> COAST-TO-COAST, MORE THAN 104,000 AMERICANS HOSPITALIZED WITH COVID-19. ♪ >> I FEEL LIKE POETRY, PHOTOGRAPHY, PAINTING, DANCE, ALL OF THE ARTS CAN AND DO SPEAK TO ANY GIVEN MOMENT. >> IT TELLS YOU HOW PEOPLE ARE FEELING IN THAT MOMENT, AND IT GIVES YOU A REAL-LIFE GLIMPSE OF LIFE IN THAT MOMENT. >> WITH EVERYTHING GOING ON AROUND THE WORLD RIGHT NOW, I REALIZE THAT I NEEDED TO FIND SOMETHING THAT WOULD MAKE ME HAPPY, AND THAT WAS PROBABLY THE BEST WAY TO DO IT WHICH WAS POETRY. ♪ >> I THOUGHT, WELL, WHAT IF I OFFERED A SERIES OF EIGHT ONLINE WORKSHOPS FOR RESIDENTS IN THE STATE TO WRITE ABOUT THE PANDEMIC DURING THE MONTH OF APRIL AND PROCESS THE EXPERIENCE. WHAT IF THERE WAS AN ANTHOLOGY FOR NEW HAMPSHIRE RESIDENTS AFTERWARDS THEY COULD SEND THEIR POOR -- POEMS TO? ♪ SO MANY OF THEM WERE ROOTED IN HOPE AND THE DAY TO DAY TASKS LIKE CLEANING YOUR HOUSE, AND THERE WAS ALWAYS THE AIR OF THE PANDEMIC AND THERE, BUT THEY WERE ALL NOT CENTERED ON THE PANDEMIC, SO IT WAS JUST NICE TO SEE, OH, SHE WAS GOING THROUGH THAT, TOO. ♪ >> SOME PEOPLE ARE TALKING ABOUT THINGS LIKE GRIEF, POLITICS, OR PERSON LOSSES, MASKS ARE A BIG ONE, SOCIAL DISTANCING. >> HOW POETS SURVIVED DURING A PANDEMIC. THEY HOLD ONTO LINES SO TIGHTLY THAT WHEN THEY HAVE TO BREAK APART, THERE IS A TEA NO ONE EVER TOLD ME I WOULD MISS NOT TALKING IN THE COMFORT OF MY OWN HOME AND NOT FEEL LIKE A PRISONER, A CAPTIVE A HOSTAGE, A INMATE. >> GETTING DRESSED TO GET THE MAIL, A NEW EUPHORIA. BANDITS OUTFITS IN THE SUPERMARKET, MASKS, HATS, AND NO SIX SHOOTERS. HAIR GROWS SHAGGY, GRAY ROOTS THE NEW LOOK. MISS MY HAIRDRESSER. WE HAVE MY SON, HIS WIFE, AND M 13-YEAR-OLD GRANDSON LIVES IN CANADA AND THE BORDER HAS BEEN CLOSED. THIS YEAR, WE MISSED HIS 13TH BIRTHDAY, HIS CONFIRMATION, HIS PIANO RECITAL, ALL OF THESE THINGS THAT WE CANNOT TO RECAPTURE IN PERSON AGAIN. >> IN A TYPICAL YEAR, WE WOULD TURN TO FRIENDS OR COMFORT. THIS YEAR WITH THE PANDEMIC, IT IS HARDER TO COMFORT A FRIEND IN NEED. YOU CANNOT HUG A ZOOM SCREEN. THAT DISTANCE IS WHAT I HAD IN MIND WHEN WRITING THE POEM. A FRIEND’S ARM SETTLES ACROSS SHOULDER ASSUAGING WHOLE RECTORS OF PAIN. THE PAIN INDEX PIGEONHOLES OUR SHAKEN BONES INSIDE NUMBERED BOXES LABELED NEATLY AND LOCKED AWAY. ♪ >> I STARTED FEELING LIKE ONE OF THE THINGS PEOPLE ARE NOT REALLY TALKING TOO MUCH ABOUT IS LONELINESS WHICH I THINK WE ARE ALL FEELING. SUCH TIMES AND SUCH WALKS WITH NO ONE TO TELL A PRIVATE JOKE, A SECRET, OR A STORY JOKE. ALL DAY WALKING ONLY TO FIND ITS OW RAGGED SELF AT THE END OF ITS OWN FRAYED TAIL. ♪ SICKNESS IS NOW IN THE CITY. THERE ARE NO MORE FUNERALS, ONLY THE BODIES IN TRAILERS, FROZEN, AND OVENS ABLAZE MAKING US LOVELY LIKE CLOUDS. LEARNING HOW TO USE ZOOM, SPECIAL SHOPPING HOURS RESERVED FOR SENIORS OF NEEDING TO ASK GOOGLE, WHAT DAY IT IS. THIS MORNING, AS HER MAMA READIES TINY SPROUTS FO BACKYARD PLANTING, MY DAUGHTER DRESSES IN HER BALLET OUTFIT, ASKS >> TO PLAY THE BACKSTREET BOYS, AND EYES THEY SING ABOUT WANT TO GET THAT WAY, I KISSED THE TOP OF HER HEA AND WISH HER A GOOD MORNING AND SHE SAYS, GO HELP MAMA, DADDY. I WOULD LIKE SOME PRIVATE DANCE TIME. >> IT IS CALLED YET SPRING, AND IT WAS WRITTEN OUT OF A SENSE OF TRYING TO EXPLORE WHAT HAD NOT CHANGED. SNOWMELT SWELLS THE RIVERS AGAIN AND ASKED -- NESTS PENNED FROM ALDERS AGAIN. THERE IS NO SADNESS HERE, NO PLACE FOR SADNESS. SIMPLY AN OLD, OLD NORMAL. SPREADING THROUGH THE VERY AIR. >> I DID NOT JUST WANT TO PUT SOMETHING DARK AND DELIVER SOMETHING DARK. HOW DO WE FIND THE BRIGHT SPOTS IN ALL OF THIS WHICH IS KIND OF -- THAT IS THE CHALLENGE, I THINK. THE NURSE IN THE GROCERY CLERK ARE ALL OF US. DESPITE THEIR MASKS, I SEE THEM MORE CLEARLY. THE CORONA GLOW AROUND THEIR HOLY HEADS, THE STEADY BURN OF THE ONLY LOVE THAT HAS EVER MATTERED. I THINK PEOPLE WILL GET A FEELING FOR WHAT IT WAS LIKE FOR US IN THIS YEAR. >> I THINK THIS WILL BE A DOCUMENT THAT HISTORIANS SENT JOURNALISTS WILL BE ABLE TO POUR OVER AND CAPTURE A SENSE, A COLLECTIVE SENSE OF WHAT WE WERE ALL GOING THROUGH.