Jude Patrong’s King Covid

Over the pandemic year, creativity bloomed, many people found novel ways to express many ideas about the pandemic itself. One such person is local poet Jude Patrong.

The Valencia poet’s latest work is called King Covid the Man in the Moon. In a phone interview he explained that many of the stories and narratives told about the pandemic were woven together to form his latest poem. These were also coupled with Carnival imagery.

“Two months ago I decided to write a poem on the covid19 pandemic,” he said.

He called the poem Man on the Moon because Latin word corona means wealth and crown and which, to him, “is like a circle around the moon.”

In dissecting the poem, Patrong said the moon also has a lot to do with changes on earth and he wondered if the moon had a part to play with the pandemic. He also took some of the common stories told about the pandemic’s origins and wove it into his poem.

“They said, I don’t have any proof of it, that the bats are responsible for the virus. It is transmitted to animals etc. I thought about bats in vampire movies. Vampires where bats bite people and they are infected. So I thought of the bat and the moon.” He writes in the opening verse:

The moon ascended upon the wild west/

Bats delirious and erratic to and fro

Whence they came from Mount Tamana Caves

Midnight Robbers roaming the concrete jungle

Whom behind the mask?

Masks were also a recurring theme in Patrong’s poem.

“When I thought of the mask I thought of Carnival, revelling. Everybody’s wearing masks so I tried to associate it with Carnival.

He said revelling was not just mas(k) and ole mas. He said it was also chaos and confusion.

“Which I choose to document.”

He said masks were not only associated with revelling but they have also been used in performances and, even, death.

In his work, Patrong alludes to the late Spanish artist Francisco de Goya’s The Burial of the Sardine.

“The Burial of the Sardine was a celebration, like a revelling thing with masks and people dancing in the streets. That is what I thought of also in the poem…”

Goya’s website says, “The painting displays a huge number of people dancing...Most of the revellers are masked and disguised and can be seen dancing their way to the banks of the Manzanares.”

He addresses the issues of social displacement and sadness and despair caused by the pandemic.

At the end of his poem Patrong asks, “Whom behind the death mask?”

Patrong wants King Covid Man in the Moon to be part of a wider compilation but says that is going to take some time.

He has self-published three books of his work: The Beauty of Love; The Garden of Valencia and Poems of the Caribbean Sun. His book the Garden of Valencia was translated into Spanish.

Patrong said he is also a founding member of the Circle of Poets and has also recited his poetry at schools and other public venues. He began writing in 1995. He plays the guitar and back then, wrote songs.

“I would compose songs and put music to it but unfortunately I realised the music was not taking me anywhere.”

He said he went to work in Port of Spain one day and met a guy who showed him a book of poems he had published. Patrong then thought he could also take his songs and turn it into poetry and compile it in a book.

Patrong, a part-time worker at Carib Brewery, goes door-to-door selling his poetry and hopes to continue doing so once public health restrictions are lifted.

King Covid The Man in the Moon

The moon ascended upon the wild west,

bats delirious and erratic to and fro,

whence they came from Mount Tamana Caves,

Midnight Robbers roaming the concrete jungle,

whom behind the mask?

On dismal streets you can hear whistles,

shadows flitting from pillar to post,

Jaga-bats in the night-dress,

“picking up all kind of strangers”

vulnerable people could become afflicted by a malady.

Pipers stealthy up and down,

brass faces amidst the scene,

Jab-jab in working rubber boots begging bread,

gnashing of teeth,

one dollar to pay de devil.

J’Ouvert morning ole mas in the Croisee,

on First Street grimier man in front,

the shackled jab-molassie mumbling,

eyes wondering upon the crowd; handout,

the conga line stretching around a corner,

many bound unto his chain.

The multitude plodding along in their pajamas,

Sailors’ candlelight vigil,

others in colourful garbs,

those on the loose romping and gallivanting

in Goya’s Mask.

Wineos cavorting and accosting passerby,

queer faces brightly powdered amidst the melee,

weeping and lamenting,

whom behind the death mask?