Stocking up for the long haul

NaPoWriMo, Day 1.

April is National Poetry Writing Month. Everybody's invited. 

As a token of encouragement, I am setting the bar very low by my own first offering of doggerel. 
Send me a star for forgiveness! We all need to be generous of heart in Virus Time.

PUTTING THE CART BEFORE THE HOARSE

A cart full of groceries sits beside my auto door.
Even the bottom shelf is full, not like the times before.
We fear the lockdown looming! When can we get out again?
So we hoarders all are zooming to forestall the hunger pangs.

I like to shop for groceries, a few things every day.
I like to park and stroll around if the sky's not too grey.
But though the sky is blue this eve I hurried through the door
for tomorrow, we are all afraid, there won't be any more!

The grocery's now stocked with brands I haven't ever known.
The ones I like have gone away to someone else's home.
 I wish I knew who's ordering, I'd give them my advice,
for there's way too much of pasta, not a single bag of rice!

For COVID-19 virus now, I keep a watchful eye.
I wonder why my nose runs while my eyes are awfully dry.
I have a little cough, but that's been there a long, long time.
and if my throat is somewhat hoarse, a lozenge is sublime.

I'm not afraid of catching this darned virus as it spreads.
I'm afraid of dying of boredom if I can't get out of bed!
If I can't go out and shop for fruit, admiring how it's stacked,
then I may as well write poems, see how blippers will react.

Maybe blippers will forgive me for the silliness I spew
and they'll think of NaNoWriMos past and all that I would do
and they'll think of all the stars and hearts I generously gave
and they'll visit at my tombstone when I'm in my boredom grave.

Be well! Write a poem!


Addenda and corrigenda
Hmm. I seem to have replied twice. I often write replies from the Notifications page. I guess I forgot. Six verses overheated my brain. In keeping with my promise of a low bar, I have left my mistakes as is. 
Only God is perfect.

Oh, no. Back again to say that of course I meant NaPoWriMo, not NaNoWriMo, which requires the writing of a 50,000-word novel during the month of November. A unique form of suffering far from the joys of haiku.