"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!!!
Jun 3, 2012
Jun 3, 2012 at 8:00 PM UTC
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.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
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
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 5:24 PM UTC
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....
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
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.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
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''
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
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.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 3:34 PM UTC
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.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 10:01 PM UTC
Lawnmowers mowing
The familiar smell of grass
Leaves my nose sniffing
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 9:47 AM UTC
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
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC
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.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC
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.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 10:22 PM UTC
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
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 1:28 PM UTC
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
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 3:29 AM UTC