Lincoln Lockdown Made Me Do It

We are COVID veterans together.

We have felt the suspension of plans and certainties, apprehension for our own health and for those dear to us, separation from family and friends.

These poems came about in the empty space, the clear table that COVID left in its wake. The palate cleansed allowed thoughts to percolate and mature; sights ‘seen’ frequently over many years were seen as if for the first time, the mystery and majesty of sunlight both in summer and winter, early and late.

When we have everything, we can never have enough but when we have less we can appreciate the gifts that surround us, the blessing of presence. Feeling separated, these were an attempt to connect with friends, family, myself.

Inside you'll find musings and bemusings on life after death, life before death, depression, dogs, cats, the wonderful world of nature around us, the mysterious world within us, politics, palmistry, children. Speaking of nature, she never got the memo. She just carried on. As should we.

Peter Jackson was raised in Ireland and studied Natural Sciences at Trinity College Dublin. In his late teens/early 20s, he hitchhiked extensively around Europe and to/from India. He was briefly a microbiologist before moving to England to join the Royal Air Force as a navigator flying mostly on Victors (air to air refuelling) and Sentry aircraft (the radar/eye in the sky), involved in several of the recent conflicts.

He married Helen Blake in 1973 and is the proud father of Owen, Orla and Niamh. He lives in Lincoln and Javea, Spain.