Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"hayfever" poems
Strong spring winds and summer breezes Only add strength to my sneezes I cannot breathe...I'm on my kneezes I'm only good when outside freezes I need a kleenex now I cannot breathe with pollen flying I swear to god that I'm not lying My eyes run so...I feel like crying My chest hurts bad...I think I'm dying I need some meds and how I wish I lived inside a bubble Then I'd have no breathing trouble Can someone build one on the double? My throat is dry and full of rubble I need cough mixture now I dream of snow instead of summer My hayfever makes life a ****** I need something so I feel number The problem is that I feel dumber Please knock this out...kapow Hayfever is my one affliction My eyes and throat are full of friction I take my meds, they're my addiction My throat is suffering from constriction Somebody help me ...now!!!
0
Jun 3, 2012
Jun 3, 2012 at 8:00 PM UTC
Hayfever
I remember all of the stupid things. The gap in my first love's fringe that appeared only when she was flustered, or torn between *** and G-d. The nursery teacher who resembled Jane Goodall and sat with me whilst my hayfever was too potent to play out in the sun. I remember the exuberance of heat on the concrete slabs in my first back garden. How my mother would take boiling water to the empires of ants that would find life in the cracks and crevices between my footfalls. I remember how silent they were through oppression and death. I remember my first sight of the ocean. How serene it looked in the distance, how unforgiving and cold it was once I threw my whole weight into it. The shivering donkeys on the beach, agitated by the ice-cream crowds; the man who handled snakes for a living and persuaded me to touch a killer. I remember my first guitar and how I stared at it helplessly for two hours, like a teenage boy on his first sight of a ****** The first sad song to deliver a feeling never experienced, but communicated; how adults failed to answer the questions that music gave forth effortlessly. I remember when you started leaving kisses at the end of your messages, the formulaic gaps in time before I would hear from you again; your costume of nonchalance. The way you appeared in the wasteland hours, playing the therapist with your kind words and history of neurosis. I remember the sheet of plastic that shielded me from the rain as a child, the rubber wheels of my carriage buckling through puddles and gaps; the first exposure to nature's lullaby, as I fall asleep through storm and traffic. I remember how easily sleep once came, and how I resisted it all the same. I remember my recurring nightmare. A big red button and the doors of hell; some spectre of infinite density that caterwauled for the destruction of all things human, all things new. The way my mother's arms were infallible, the priest's glare, omniscient; the revolting concept of a cigarette. I remember all of the useless things. The rings around my grandfather's eyes on the only occasion I saw him cry. Kissing Rebecca on the lips, cementing our love with tree sap and the promise of an endless summer. I remember the first time I felt sad without having a reason to be so. I remember the shine of the room when I took pills for the first time; the incorrigible thirst for water and the racing confessions that followed. I remember how it felt, the first time I trapped someone in a poem; how easy it was to forget them once reduced to words and half-truths.
0
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
Useless Memories
I remember all of the stupid things. The gap in my first love's fringe that appeared only when she was flustered, or torn between *** and G-d. The nursery teacher who resembled Jane Goodall and sat with me whilst my hayfever was too potent to play out in the sun. I remember the exuberance of heat on the concrete slabs in my first back garden. How my mother would take boiling water to the empires of ants that would find life in the cracks and crevices between my footfalls. I remember how silent they were through oppression and death. I remember my first sight of the ocean. How serene it looked in the distance, how unforgiving and cold it was once I threw my whole weight into it. The shivering donkeys on the beach, agitated by the ice-cream crowds; the man who handled snakes for a living and persuaded me to touch a killer. I remember my first guitar and how I stared at it helplessly for two hours, like a teenage boy on his first sight of a ****** The first sad song to deliver a feeling never experienced, but communicated; how adults failed to answer the questions that music gave forth effortlessly. I remember when you started leaving kisses at the end of your messages, the formulaic gaps in time before I would hear from you again; your costume of nonchalance. The way you appeared in the wasteland hours, playing the therapist with your kind words and history of neurosis. I remember the sheet of plastic that shielded me from the rain as a child, the rubber wheels of my carriage buckling through puddles and gaps; the first exposure to nature's lullaby, as I fall asleep through storm and traffic. I remember how easily sleep once came, and how I resisted it all the same. I remember my recurring nightmare. A big red button and the doors of hell; some spectre of infinite density that caterwauled for the destruction of all things human, all things new. The way my mother's arms were infallible, the priest's glare, omniscient; the revolting concept of a cigarette. I remember all of the useless things. The rings around my grandfather's eyes on the only occasion I saw him cry. Kissing Rebecca on the lips, cementing our love with tree sap and the promise of an endless summer. I remember the first time I felt sad without having a reason to be so. I remember the shine of the room when I took pills for the first time; the incorrigible thirst for water and the racing confessions that followed. I remember how it felt, the first time I trapped someone in a poem; how easy it was to forget them once reduced to words and half-truths.
Continue reading...
72
ignite the flames of memory amazing in their strength and synchronicity cavorting with fibonacci numbers, expanding exponentially dust motes spinning crazily life exploding, destabilizing, imploding without a   whimper or a warcry these are the high days of spring verdent and fecund glances fervid and askance lead to *** under the still warming sun
0
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 5:24 PM UTC
hayfever
November is a month i dread, all the marking... all the words ..... ideas clutter up in my head.... all the hopes and ambitions weigh heavily on my back. the first day, my birthday hip hip hooray!!! then a rushing, pell mell downward track of red pens and meetings going on and on and on planning, prepping, late night stressing then, when not at work, not shirking, just not working hoping to give the brain a rest am bombarded... like i am ******** in cheer ...continual messages of christmas is near.... coffee and carols, shopping and angels harking, harking, joy to the world, fa al lalala... Santa queues truly not an Ebeneezer but Christmas teasers in November make me grey around the gills fish out of water lamb to the slaughter and running on empty, always empty, just want one day... when the world would stop hassling and just go away no end of year parties... prentending to be hale and hearty with all sorts of colleagues and academic smarties no presentations of budgets.. thinner than last no we could not fast this area, to be on line no it's alright, it will be just fine while sculling copious amounts of cheap, cheap, nasty red wine. no hangover from said feast... no,  you be the one to corner the beast. no more standing with mothers and others watching children in a god awful christmas play and clapping and chatting while little bettsy recieves an award for knitting a sleeve and george gets one for adding fourhundred and forty please, please show me the door..... not to mention hayfever, daylight savings and more but all this seems trivial... when I consider the blight of my life... in the stakes of annuity. the month of November has a great heart Movember...a charity of moustache art has an fanatic in my big, bluff,bloke for a month he curries and cares for the caterpillar  that grows on his lip... a fuzzy flecked monstrosity with the mange and a weird flip. November a month of avoiding the succour of contact.... with that thing, my toes curl now thinking of it.... tho I try not to react (after all charity begins at home) november november truly you are the *** last year he bought the ****** thing a comb yet in the end you are but a month and it seems I survive you year after year thank god for take away meals and long cold beers....
0
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
Thirty days....just 30 days
November is a month i dread, all the marking... all the words ..... ideas clutter up in my head.... all the hopes and ambitions weigh heavily on my back. the first day, my birthday hip hip hooray!!! then a rushing, pell mell downward track of red pens and meetings going on and on and on planning, prepping, late night stressing then, when not at work, not shirking, just not working hoping to give the brain a rest am bombarded... like i am ******** in cheer ...continual messages of christmas is near.... coffee and carols, shopping and angels harking, harking, joy to the world, fa al lalala... Santa queues truly not an Ebeneezer but Christmas teasers in November make me grey around the gills fish out of water lamb to the slaughter and running on empty, always empty, just want one day... when the world would stop hassling and just go away no end of year parties... prentending to be hale and hearty with all sorts of colleagues and academic smarties no presentations of budgets.. thinner than last no we could not fast this area, to be on line no it's alright, it will be just fine while sculling copious amounts of cheap, cheap, nasty red wine. no hangover from said feast... no,  you be the one to corner the beast. no more standing with mothers and others watching children in a god awful christmas play and clapping and chatting while little bettsy recieves an award for knitting a sleeve and george gets one for adding fourhundred and forty please, please show me the door..... not to mention hayfever, daylight savings and more but all this seems trivial... when I consider the blight of my life... in the stakes of annuity. the month of November has a great heart Movember...a charity of moustache art has an fanatic in my big, bluff,bloke for a month he curries and cares for the caterpillar  that grows on his lip... a fuzzy flecked monstrosity with the mange and a weird flip. November a month of avoiding the succour of contact.... with that thing, my toes curl now thinking of it.... tho I try not to react (after all charity begins at home) november november truly you are the *** last year he bought the ****** thing a comb yet in the end you are but a month and it seems I survive you year after year thank god for take away meals and long cold beers....
Continue reading...
86
Roses are red, Violets are blue. I have hayfever. ACHOO.
0
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 4:50 PM UTC
RAR
Hang the folk-singer in a straight-jacket. Let him out to entertain the pained, and to allow him his vanity of seeing one thousand t-shirted candles echo back to him, his own face. Let him board the train to nowhere-town. Give him time to walk a recovery, to indulge in a sorrow that was too often left ignored. He'll come back with a black eye, cradle and all. Kiss your divorce on the mouth, as you filter his coffee. You're coming out of your shell, and out of the house, you're meeting for coffee again, in the sun-glass shade of the afternoon. Hang your clothes out to dry by the river. Let yourself have a hayfever bout in the grass. Allow your new freedoms from the tyrant, that had long kept you anchored in the past.
0
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
Adjourn
Blindfolded taking great care to aim true to loves path Cupid arched his bow and sneezed, letting loose a gold tipped arrow too soon. ''Shit'' he muttered to himself in Latin, wiping his nose on a bare forearm. ''More heartbreak, I hate the ******     summertime....... .......I really should wear something with sleeves''
0
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
Hayfever
I love my sneezes. They render me helpless. I totally surrender to that nanosecond of being blown apart. A dandelion seed wafting and riding the buffeting breezes and sneezes.
0
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 3:34 PM UTC
Hayfever
i am asthmatic i found out that i have hayfever when i was around 10 years old recently, i discovered i have a deviated septum sometimes, i think i wasn't designed to breathe but it is you who takes my breath away when i see your face i feel a blow to my chest the oxygen is flushed from my system my lips turn blue but all it takes is a smile from you to breathe life back into me.
0
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 10:01 PM UTC
troubled breathing; or, asthmatics need love too.
Lawnmowers mowing The familiar smell of grass Leaves my nose sniffing
0
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 9:47 AM UTC
Hayfever Haiku
Like a caterpillar cocooned You shall too Hatch out your shell And I want to be there As you heart furiously Pumps blood To watch you as your Tightly enclosed wings Come to life Right before my very eyes Balanced on the ledge As you fall And take flight Soar higher than imagined And then a thousand Of my what if's shall be answered And you will be the only grain of truth I have left No more will you Hoarsely whisper Hayfever In answer to my un-asked question As the corner of your eyes glistens With wetness
0
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC
Caterpillar
Prozac could be a better choice than ******* — but at least coke has character. I went for a walk and it made me feel better, except for the hayfever. That just made me blind. I'm so ******* paranoid. I can hear them laughing behind me. What's worse is that I know they're not, because they don't give two ***** about me. It's just a smaller dose of serotonin, I can get that in ecstasy. Just a smaller cut of dopamine. I can get that from boys for a kiss and some flirting. I wish you were here to smell my hair again, I miss you like sleep and like calcium.
0
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC
Deficiency
per aspera, for the love of god let me down the oil of the asp, the bee in my bonnet in a needle rolling deep in the hay, the raspy cough from the hayfever on my cilia, on the kitchen counter, in my mind. Let me off this bottomless ladder you ******** you fiends.
0
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 10:22 PM UTC
astera, perspiring
Blue skies Daily highs Green fields Keeping it real Soft sand Hand in hand Yellow sun Days just begun Rainy days Foggy haze Orange sun Skies ablaze Softly lapping seas At your feet they tease Large crashing waves Wiping you off your feet, quick save Rock pools on the shore Children climbing to explore Sandcastles on the beach Waves just out of reach Yellow flowers Pollen power Temperature 28 degrees Some people with hayfever, attempting not to sneeze Kites flying in the sky Children laughing nearby Picnics spread upon the ground Variety of flavours abound Swans swimming in the lake Cygnets fighting for breadcrumbs to take Dogs running in the park Owners chasing them, not to bark Cricket playing in the field "Not out, surely" "umpire what do you feel"? Sitting out on the decking Last of the suns rays savouring Bright Full Moon The end of the day has come too soon
0
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 1:28 PM UTC
Images of Summer
I just want the world to believe again I want the late greats to give way to the latest greats I want the childhood simplicity of putting stickers on paper I want to feel the water as I sink in deeper I want to lounge on a hill without getting hayfever I want technology to advance and drinking water to be readily available I want the world to believe again I just can't leave it like this
0
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 3:29 AM UTC
Untitled