Islesolation gallery

Are you a keen writer or poet, or perhaps lockdown has brought out your inner author. Share your creativity with others by clicking join in.

On the shelf

The old man sits in his favourite chair
Dreaming of times past and places where
He lived his former self.
Across the cluttered room on the shelf
Are photos proudly placed there by his departed wife,
Images portraying the family and friends of their marital life.

Among them also from days before
When he was a lad, and later soldier off to war.
The cheery face of Jock his stalwart mate,
They share so much ‘til a bullet sealed Jock’s fate.
He often recalls the sounds and horrors of that day
When they were pressed to charge to glory come what may.

Best not dwell on those times he sighed,
But looking at the portrait of his lovely bride
He focussed on his happy memories of wedded bliss,
Remembering how they’d met and shared their first kiss.
He gazed at the photo of the wedding guests in a crowd
Around them, she a smiling beauty, he standing tall and proud.

His thoughts then turned to the family they’d had,
Two children they’d reared when becoming Mum and Dad.
Pictures of each one lovingly displayed on the shelf
Recording proud achievements, showing days of happiness and health,
Sharing  Christmas dinners and summer holidays full of joy.
His charming, pretty little girl, his tough, cheeky young boy.

But the years have gone by and they have become grown,
Their career paths were followed, they found partners of their own.
So now the old man sits alone by himself
With all he cherishes  up there on the shelf.
He looks at them and says “those years were the best”,
And smiling he contentedly lays his head back to rest.

Chrissie Saunders.

Poem in Lockdown 

By Christine Cave of Carisbrooke WI


What a year it has been
Up and  down Round and round
                    Not going out
                    Hoping the Vaccine is the answer to be found

We do what we are told We do our best
But none of us are really at rest

Along the way we have lost too many
Life as we know it is not the same
This is for real it is not a game

                  We speak to fiends on the Telephone
                  Many people so alone
We face time family with no hugs or cuddles
every thing seems such a muddle

                  Deep down we know   it will end
Let us all hope it will not be to long
My dear dear friends.Until we all meet again

Shout Out the News!

Shout out the news, A vaccine has been found!
Broadcast to one and all living in fear;
In men of science our due trust is bound;
Such profound relief and hope is here.

Shout out the news, how brilliant are these men!
Whose research work will be our salvation;
Their knowledge was put to the test again;
And so they will rescue every nation.

Shout out the news, one hundred thousand die!
This deadly virus is everywhere.
Now, so many families mourn and cry,
Despite the medics dedicated care.

Shout out the news, COVID can mutate!
Observe the rules, wear a mask, stay apart;
Disregard advice – death could be your fate!
However hard, we must all play our part.

Chrissie Saunders

One Hundred Thousand Lives

One hundred thousand lives
Sisters and brothers
Fathers and mothers
Husbands and wives

One hundred thousand lost
Some who worked to serve us
Despite the deadly virus
Paying the ultimate cost

One hundred thousand deaths
People of this land
Part of the growing band
Taking their last breaths

One hundred thousand gone
Leaving this world behind
But we keep them in mind
As we must carry on

One hundred thousand lives
Sisters and brothers
Fathers and mothers
Husbands and wives

Chrissie Saunders


Sitting, watching, waiting, emptiness, nothing.

Gentle waves lapping at my feet, causing little ripples to form.

In the distance a shape, a ship? its sharpness breaking up the horizon line.

Greyness below, lighter above indepersed with clouds holding a darker hue.

In contrast, sitting proudly each side majestic cliffs rise from the ground.

Brilliance a whiteness nowhere else to be found.

Chalkiness with scatterings of purple and blackness the flints flashing a hint.

I am still sitting but now my eyes open.

I see the wonders, the wonders in my mind’s eye.

A rainbow those colours rising and forming into a wonderous arc.

To feel that sand beneath my feet.

 Feeling that water gently splashing around my toes.

The breeze gently blowing across my face.

I can see it all, not yet in person, masked up and distanced apart.

But in the distance the time will come, staying strong, staying safe.

In our quarantine Bubbles we can sit and dream.

 That time will come, Stay Safe, Stay Strong its nearly here.

Janet corbett
Parent of pupil carisbrooke college and V1 form
Alex Dempsey
Ben Homes

I followed a                star that              glistened in the         moonlight

To a                     place I thought I’d                  know

Where we might                  find the true                meaning of life

                 But it wasn’t                  so

Sometimes the                                more you learn

The less you know

There’s no-one who                       knows it all

Don’t say I told you so……..

I was lost

I was trapped in a bubble

All my bridges were                     burned

Just like a leaf that’s been blown thru a blizzard

Washed                    up in the gutter… gazing at the stars

I cant find my way            home

I’ve crossed the  crossroads

Ran round the round-a-bouts

Found the super highway

Got into cyberspace……… 

I followed a path thru the forest of words

Where it led I couldn’t  tell

I closed my eyes and then I made a wish

Threw a coin into the well

Sometimes the                          more you dream

The more you try

You’ve got to                            live in hope 

You’ll get it right this time 

I found my way into the city

The lights were bright and everyone so busy

Se them all running up from underground

Their lips are          moving but           I don’t hear a sound

Don’t stop better keep cruising

Find somewhere less confusing  

Mother Nature is singing her song

Go find someplace where you belong……..

I walked along still searching for the answer

Then I came to see

It’s there within …. every seed and every flower

And it’s here inside of me

Sometimes the more you look

The less you see

Just look inside your heart

You’ll find the key…………

Oh I was Lost……..

From- Rob’s Notebook

The Sound of Lockdown

The house seems quiet but is not silent,
There’s the tick tick of the clock on the wall
And a soft buzzing as the fridge clicks in,
The motor humming continuously.

Then music swells, softly filling the room,
Gently soothing a peaceful state of mind.
I am alone at home losing myself,
Losing myself in this exquisite sound.

A violin sweetly sings as does a flute
And the lilting tones of a harp join in.
The melody is haunting, almost sad
But so beautifully tranquil, so calm.

And its musicality casts a spell,
I move in a trance of fluidity,
Gracefully; studied Tai Chi movements flow,
A slow dance of balletic elegance.

I watch my hands slowly tracing circles,
Fluently turning, reaching out and up.
My mind and body melt in harmony
With the mesmerizing movement and sound.

Chrissie Saunders.

The View from my Window

I look out of my window across to the distant misty Downs,
And  in the beauty of this Spring morn
See spread before me a patchwork of lush green, bright yellow and rich browns.
Verdant pastures dotted white with sheep and their lambs newborn,
Fields of acid-hued rapeseed flowers,
A stately oak oversees the season’s change in the land
Which blackthorn blossoms decorate in frothy white bowers.

I look out of my window across to the distant misty Downs,
Caught up in thought and dreams of other faraway places
That I have known. There were exciting ancient towns
With grand historical buildings, people with proud haughty faces.
In the heart of the countryside simple villages,
Dusty streets, stray dogs sleeping in the shade of a tree
And humble peasants welcoming a visit to their cottages.

I look out of my window across to the distant misty Downs
Which have become covered in a ghostlike shroud,
The glorious countryside hidden with a thick cover of cloud
Rolling in from the Channel beyond, slowly and silently obscuring the scene.
But tomorrow I know my view will return, refreshed and renewed
As if all that was there had only been caught in a faraway dream.

Chrissie Saunders.

23rd March 2021

A day of reflection
So many people have lost their lives
So many people have been deprived
Of family and friends
Suffering from a strange new illness
Affecting every nation

A day to remember
Those no longer with us
Through illness and death
The spread of a virus

On this day a year was passed
Since Lockdown number one
Daily life dramatically changed
To combat and protect
Yet 100,000 deaths surpassed

Chrissie Saunders.

Grace Argyle

My Dream of Summer by Catherine Hoare

Despite a jumper a chill runs down my spine,
I gather warm thoughts to brighten the decline,
gazing beyond my rainy window, instead,
dreaming of perfect summer moments ahead:
cloudless sky reflected on the silky sea,
soft top cars, hair flying in a hot summer’s breeze,
glacé chocolate ice-cream melting in a cone,
afternoon tea with strawberries, jam and scone,
picnics; clinking glasses with chilled lemonade,
dosing on a blanket in the dappled shade,
waft of scent; evening primrose and sweet pea,
nectar drawn admiral butterflies, honey bee,
birds’ minor key chorus at the crack of dawn,
early morning dew drops clinging to the lawn,
barefoot children squealing in sheer delight,
dashing through shower rainbows of a hosepipe,
candyfloss, rise, fall of roller coaster thrills,
festival music floating across the hills,
church bells ring young loves united forever,
sand sculpture adorned with stone, shell and feather,
dogs paddling on the beach, glimpse of seagull chase,
best of all, sun shining fire upon your face.
Seems a distant dream when it’s a dull damp day,
the other side of my pane; seasons away.


Under the Sofa

When lockdown was very first mentioned,
A daily routine was what I had intentioned.
I started by doing all the Spring Cleaning,
Mopping, dusting, polishing, even leaning
Out to wash the grimy windows,
Diligence possessed me like nobody knows
And true to form, as advised,
Even made sure I exercised.

Then I took to gardening like mad,
Seeing it immaculate made me so glad,
And, being such a dutiful housewife
Nearly became a whole new way of life.
But one day when hoovering under the sofa,
I found a long-lost book and turned into a loafer.
The sun was shining, a deck chair beckoned,
I’d earn a rest is what I reckoned.

Sitting reading was such a pleasure.
What was the harm in a spot of leisure?
Relaxing, soaking up a bit of sun,
We’re told is good for everyone.
And very soon I just started to laze,
All activity vanished in a dozy haze.
With drooping eyelids, the book fell of my lap,
Oh well, maybe I’ll just take a nap!

Chrissie Saunders

Winter by Chloe Oxley

Coldness fills the air

Winter breeze traveling through

Heat up the fire ready for smores

Wrap up warm for the cold winter’s night.


One day lockdown will be a thing of the past. Looking from inside out knowing summer will be here soon and all this covid-19 will be a thing forgotten about. Lockdown was great at first. Doing a bit of work for school then playing xbox having great breakfast and lunch. And after my school work i make a cake. Dont tell anyone but im a top pastry chef. Im an expert at cleaning up the house. I just want it to all go away so i can come back to school to get a great education. I started reading a book called Saint Lucia simply beautiful its a great book telling me about the history of Saint Lucia. Ive been to Saint Lucia a few times. And everytime i go i discover something new. Last time i went i discovered the sulfur springs in a little town called Soufriere where my grandmother is from. And by the way my grandparents live in Saint Lucia. Maybe one day when Covid-19 will go away i am due to visit my grandparents in Saint Lucia. I like riding my electric scooter on my lunch breaks its been so cold i have to wrap up warm. Me and my parents have turned my front room into a mini gym i run on the treadmill for 20 minutes and i do sit ups, press ups and star jumps. Soon i have a gym-fit body. When i play xbox i really like playing fortnite, gta, ice hockey and strategy games. I like to enter gaming competitions to see how good i am.


Gemma Calloway

Photos by Jacob Mills

To have the strength to fall away, the determination to give in, the resolve to leave these walls behind and beg away my sin, is it so much to ask of you, to give me what I seek, to see the world in miniature and dance in purple streaks?

I see your face wife of mine settled, sitting still, how often I would glance at you, how often I do still, I hear you laugh upon the wind, your chatter on the breeze, your gentle whisper by the sea, your song within the trees, how could I think of travesty, how could I think of loss, your blue eyes glistening in my heart, your chilling glare like frost, yet now you are distant, stained parchment makes your skin, your blue eyes, dull and lifeless, peering from within, yet no inkling did I give to you of the love in which you taught.

I see your face brother mine, leaning by the chair, all trust up in overcoats, pomade in your hair, I see your face in clarity your youthful tingly smile, I often remember your strong legs how easy you’d run a mile, how could I think of losing you, how could I think of hurt, your strong and muscular  figure of yours, standing tall and alert, but now you are much older, colourless and stiff, your nimble body stagnant, the sheen wiped from your quiff, yet no inkling did I give to you, of the love your kindness wrought.

I see your face father mine, placed against the wall, how painful it is to think of you, to see your face at all, I knew your tended moustache, the keenness of your palm, how little Alfie followed you, the bitter scent of balm, how could I think of missing you, how could I think of strife, your steady soothing stillness, a constant in my life, yet now you have grown silent, your frame turned brittle and  cold, the scents that one enveloped you, replaced with damp and mould, yet no inkling did I give to you of the respect your presence brought.

I see your face mother dear stood next to your book, you gave your all to everyone, you never ever took, how sweet you would read to me the pride you took in words, how swiftly you would dart around, baking tarts and curds, how could I think of mourning you how could I say goodbye, your voice of pure solace sent drifting to a sign, yet now you do not comfort me, you shan’t help another soul,  life absent from your kindness, a barren gaping hole, yet no inkling did I give to your effect upon my thoughts.

For now my life is waning, I no longer know myself, my family and my friends dotted on the shelf, for soon I shall be lifeless, stagnant and alone my body weak my heart cold, a chill bleeding hole, yet not inkling did I give to you, yet now perhaps I ought.

Nobody came today by Peter Johnson

Nobody came today,
She fully understands, has lived so long,
Walked many paths, with many friends,
Enjoyed easy company, testing moments.

But now the light glows dim
The candle flame burns low
The ebb of life flickers faintly
For no one came to see her today.

Across her stress-strewn face
An anguish anchored deep within
Stifled in this silent lockdown
For no one came to see her today.

Shuffling around the four-room home,Jobs patiently completed, plates washed
Collapses exhausted in the old chair
But no one came today.

And yet, oh and yet, a hope rises within,
In calmer moments a hope that lives still
The look that says, Someone will come
Always there and always will be.

Her eyes light up, her heartbeat quickens
To echo the song of a far-off land
Approaching fast with the Shepherd
Who gathers at last all His sheep home.

Lily Cottage by Lucy Peckham

Back to the future: the cottage,
Moving day, missing school.
The magical wisteria flows over the gate and wall
Like purple fairies fluttering,
Standing so tower-tall.
Oh what it was to be at home,
How I miss my home sweet home.

Back to the past: my first entry,
Moving furniture in.
I tremble with nerves up the stairs,
About to take off again,
I climb up the second flight of stairs.
I stood there for a min.
It then began to feel like home,
How I love home sweet home.

Back to the present: leaving day,
It’s time to say goodbye.
Now I must sadly move away
To make new memories,
Find somewhere new for me to play,
Leave the house to others.
Thank you for my loving home,
I’ll always remember home sweet home.