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Random thoughts and poems (and photographs) written in the grammatical tense "Future Imperfect".

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David Horton

Tag: coronavirus

Pointless

July 28, 2020July 28, 2020 by David Horton, posted in History, media, poetry, politics

We all spend

our lives now

trying not

to become

data points

on a graph.

Tagged anxiety, coronavirus, covid-19, family, History, media, poetry, politics, scienceLeave a comment

Brave new world

May 9, 2020 by David Horton, posted in climate change, History, poetry, politics, science, tax

If you think after

Coronavirus,

corporations

will stop

exploiting

workers,

will stop

trashing

the world,

will stop

supporting

wars,

will stop

buying

elections,

will start

paying

taxes,

you’re living

in a parallel

universe.

Tagged coronavirus, History, poetry, politics, religion, science, tax, warLeave a comment

Imagination

March 30, 2020 by David Horton, posted in atheism, History, poetry

Worth

remembering

in these

frightening

times – all

imaginary

friends are

equally

imaginary.

Tagged atheism, coronavirus, History, poetry, religion2 Comments

Blissful

March 29, 2020 by David Horton, posted in gardens, poetry

The Butcher Bird

singing,

beautifully,

from the old

dead tree

this morning,

doesn’t know about

coronavirus.

Tagged animals, anxiety, Australia, coronavirus, gardens, poetryLeave a comment

Absent friends

March 24, 2020 by David Horton, posted in poetry

The road

outside my farm,

always busy

with commuter

traffic, is

empty, this

morning, as

far as the

eye can see.

Tagged Australia, coronavirus, poetryLeave a comment

Above ground

March 23, 2020March 23, 2020 by David Horton, posted in poetry

Any day

without

coronavirus

is a good

day.

Tagged coronavirus, poetryLeave a comment

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Memoir

Hammering on the mind’s door

“I think we are well-advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind’s door at 4 a.m. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends. We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, forget who we were.” Joan Didion

A few of the themes

Consequences

Two cultures

Repeating patterns

Nature and nurture

Catcher in the Rye

Doorways

Prophet not without honour

Blood

Deaf

Smell

Building reserves in good times

Recent Posts

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  • This little piggy
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  • Room with a view

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