Four days ago I wrote a post
That said my throat was sore.
It still is and I’m tired
And I’m snowed-in and I’m bored.
I’m wearing just a bathrobe
That’s drenched in day-old phlegm.
Still no luck with the gals on Tinder…
Well, I don’t know what’s wrong with them.
“Best by November 2016”
Was on my salad dressing.
I shook my head as I poured it on
And hoped that Kraft was guessing.
Now my life goes with the flow
And I eat only undressed veggies.
On the bright side never anymore
Do people give me wedgies.
Sorry that you’ve got the flu.
I hate it when you’re sick,
So I’ve taken steps to fix you
And make your healing quick.
I made you chicken-nyquil soup
And took your temperature.
I bought you prunes to help you poop
And Web-MD’ed a cure.
I put damp cloths on your forehead
And made a pot of tea.
Here are more blankets for your bed.
You’re lucky to have me!
But still you need for one last thing?
Privacy, peace, and quiet?
Sounds good! I’ll put some music on
And wait here while you try it.
My writer’s nerve is blocked.
My sinuses are too.
Please accept this micro-poem
And this picture of R2.
I started out with aspirin
To dull some of the pain,
Then NyQuil, DayQuil, and vitamin C
To make the sickness wane.
Then I tried garlic, cloves and sage,
Parsley, rosemary, and thyme.
I danced in the rain and howled
And put coconut into my lime.
At the start of the fifth day
A unicorn brought me viagra
And a bottle of water that, I was told,
Came straight from the falls of Niagara.
I hope I feel much better.
I deserve it, Heaven knows.
On the other hand, if I should die
I’ll never decompose.
(Thanks for bearing with me through all of the sickness poems. I want them to stop just as much as you).
I made a commitment
To this poetical quest
That each day, rain or shine
Something rhyming would be pressed.
And so as I lie
Awash in my phlegm*
I write you this limerick,
Though it is not a gem:
There once was a very sick poet
Whose nose needed someone to blow it.
He searched for a tissue
But found none. What an issue!
Finally he chose to Costco it.
*I apologize for the image. Be thankful it wasn’t a photo.