Best Achy Poems
Sneeze, sneeze, sneeze, sneeze
Oh I wish my sore throat would ease
Razor blades of pain are shredding my throat
And I’ve got so much snot I could launch a boat
My nose is as red as Rudolph’s and it’s oh so sore
I’m feeling achy and miserable this cold I simply do abhor
My temperature is high – I’m having a hot flush
I look a terrible mess; my hair is in need of a brush
Guess I will have to smile when hubby says I’m ‘hot’
Good job he loves me whether I look a wreck or not
Jan Allison
21st October 2014
And
Goat heads, cockleburs, and cow pies.
These are the things
we live with, in the country.
Some you step on,
some travel in your clothes,
and some stink.
Foxtails.
That sounds so beautiful.
They are terrible.
They cling and bring pain
to the feet of dogs.
Don't get me started...
on mosquitoes and blood-sucking vermin...
that find us all in the day,
and in the night.
Yet we still go outside.
We still want to touch,
trees, and flowers...
and lay in the grass.
Ticks stay away,
fleas go somewhere else.
This is the best place,
to be calm and set the pace...
backward, or at least slowdown.
Chores make the time pass without notice.
Tired muscles and an achy back
replace the need to be concerned...
about the small things.
Yet inside,
peace reigns.
Even at the cost of life's
tiny inconveniences,
there is a payment of joy,
that only He can dole out.
Why do I hang onto your every word?
When I know I am merely the shame you play
The controlled part of the wanting to be loved game!
The ever changing rules,
keeping me tethered close to my false hope
Me the cup of empty that fills you up for a while
I know you want what I want,
but you want it from somebody else....
So I pick up the bread crumbs of your attention,
ignoring the being ignored part
The "not tonight I'm too busy" part
The "You can come over later and be with me" part
Then there's the clinging onto you till morning part
When daylight comes you can't pretend I'm him
You shower to rinse away the achy dirty feeling part,
Those feelings seemed less relevant in the dark
That pleasured pain that somehow tears us both apart
Me the proverbial fool
Taking
Needing
Accepting
Settling on less than nothing
Knowing that if he changes his mind
I will vanish, disappear, evaporate like the sweat from our bodies
Like the stench of our desperation
So I hope your pathetic wanting will merge with my own
I keep waiting and hoping
Dreaming and pretending
That somehow
Somewhere behind those vibrant eyes
you do
Really want me
Even though in my soul
I know
This is all I will ever have
This not enough bit that I cling to
That voice that knows one day you'll be gone
Hopefully not today, for without you I fear my tomorrow
Oh how I wish this heart wanted something else
anything else
That there was someone else
other than you
Why does it have to be you?
Don't be concerned friends, I have the one I want!
For Alfred Vassallo's "How does it feel to be Unwanted" contest.
Here I lie in bed again,
Awaiting my next meal.
A worker enters in my room,
As if it's no big deal.
What ever happened to courtesy? Just a little knock.
Do you think I'm just a vegetable, Laying here like a rock?
What ever happened to manners? I haven't got a clue.
BUT KEEP IN MIND AND DON'T FORGET, THAT I'M A PERSON TOO.
I know I can not talk,
Or even joke around.
But I'm well aware of everything, and also every sound.
If you have another worker help, change me during rounds.
Please don't talk about me, as if I'm not around.
Treat me with respect,
the same I'd give to you.
KEEP IN MIND AND DON'T FORGET, THAT I'M A PERSON TOO.
My bones are stiff and achy,
I hear you say I'm contracted.
My belly hurts, I haven't pooped,
I hope I'm not impacted.
I'm sorry I may dribble,
and at times I even stare.
It's not easy being old,
aging isn't fair.
These are the cards God dealt me,
There's nothing I can do.
JUST KEEP IN MIND AND DON'T FORGET, THAT I'M A PERSON TOO.
I used to be a lively one,
just like your pretty self.
I traveled, married, and worked long hours until I lost my health.
I press my light to see a face,
Or just for company.
For someone just to look inside, and realize that I'm ME.
You walked past my light,
what am I to do?
PLEASE REMEMBER I'M A PERSON TOO.
I'm sorry that I messed the bed,
I feel like such a baby.
I'm so embarrassed, and ashamed,
that I'm doing this at eighty.
I'm sorry I couldn't hold it,
I didn't know what to do.
KEEP IN MIND AND DON'T FORGET, THAT I'M A PERSON TOO.
I wish that I was able,
to communicate some way.
So finally I'd get the chance,
to say what I want to say.
I hear you talk with other patients, so please don't walk away.
If everyone showed a little compassion,
I wouldn't feel this way.
So here I am, no family left, as loneliness weighs heavy on my chest.
I may be sad, I may be blue.
PLEASE REMEMBER I'M A PERSON TOO.
Next time my light is on,
come and see if I'm OK.
I'm a retired nurse of thirty years, and would love to hear about your day.
Wah-ooo, wah-ooo,
Oo-oo, oo-oo, oo.
Wah-ooo, wah-ooo,
Oo-oo, oo-oo, oo.
Walkin' dow-nuh street
On me achy feet
Allah li'l birdies go
Tweet tweet tweet
Wah-ooo, wah-ooo,
Oo-oo, oo-oo, oo.
Not gonna crawl
In frunnuh you all
Maybe gonna hide unner
A sheet, sheet, sheet.
Ah-ooo, ah-ooo,
Oo-oo, oo-oo, oo.
This poem was inspired by “MOUNTAIN Senryuor Haiku series 022021”
Written by: Anil Deo - who received poem of the day 14th November 2021
Instapoetry
If leaves on trees revealed poetry
What a harvest there would surely be
Ripe fruit of the poets forestry
In truly tasteful variety…….
Pick a leaf anytime and read it
You will never be disappointed
It is code-named as instapoetry
Poems are grown worldwide constantly.
Snap off a leaf when passing a tree
It may inspire writing poetry
If you are a poet wannabe
It may be the best thing you could see.
Poems are dreamers sweet melodies
Happy, or sad should achy hearts bleed
Poetry knows that it's time to leave
When it's fall and blowing o'er the breeze.
14th November 2021
Who wants to be old,
All achy and cold,
All wrinkled,
All slow,
Unable to hold...
Onto anything dear,
So filled with fear,
So fragile,
So weak,
So stuck in one gear...
Like a car that's been used,
Sometimes abused,
So dented,
So broken,
So battered and bruised...
With a long white beared,
With vision impaired,
With teeth missing,
Nose running,
And still no one cared...
But now I can't hide,
From the joy inside,
From meeting you,
Once,
Before I died!
Soup Friends...
I thought I would share what my daughter send me this morning. She has poetry on here but doesn't come on much anymore.
Sara
Ralph Waldo Emerson
April winds are magical
and thrill our tuneful frames.
The garden-walks are passional
To bachelors and dames.
My(Doris' poem) counter poem for the allergic and arthritic persons.
April winds are nemesis
and chill our achy frames.
Garden walks become treacherous
to aged and their flames.
Love,
Doris
I've wasted so many words on people.
Sore thumbs, achy wrists, inkless pens, and a strained throat.
I always want to hold on.
Holding my breath, in hopes that I can freeze time.
Pause in a moment where I have everyone I need.
I hate to watch them walk away,
but no one stays forever,
and I watch them walk away every time.
And every step cuts deep, and every new loss re-opens the same wounds.
A wound that never truly heals.
Not because it can't, but because I won't let it.
Though it hurts, the pain is a lasting memory.
The picture of their face may disappear,
and I may forget the sound of their voice.
But the scar will never leave me.
It is a way for the love that was once there to never fade.
Because there must've been love there for something to cut this deep.
My pink dress was my favorite thing to wear
to church...and her and there
My pink dress made with ruffles and lace
o'how I wore it with love and grace
My pink dress didn't go pass my achy lil'knees
pictues so that when I grow out of it everyone still sees...
...that it was my favorite dress
now put away in my Mommie's chest
Did you have a favorite thing to wear...
that you would like to share
Life is a playground, the fun never ends.
Not a care in the world, just run around with your friends.
Doodling on the walls
Playing house with your dolls.
Chasing boys around with cooties
But only those you think are cuties.
A scraped knee covered with a Hello Kitty band aid.
“There’s no monster under your bed, don’t be afraid”
Said Daddy, after a bedtime story.
Suddenly you realize- Dad’s jokes are getting too corny.
Life is an avalanche, no one understands.
Why does nobody get your obsession with this boy band?
Mom is too naggy
Your classmate is too braggy.
Chasing deadlines for essays due weeks ago
Procrastinating,contemplating; you’ve hit an all time low
You’re hungry, but you’re fat.
Each week there’s a new pimple to pick at
“I think he likes you,” whispers your friend.
But you know he only likes you for your backend.
Suddenly, you realize- you’re no longer updated with the latest trends.
Life is an overflowing agenda, it’s nerve racking
Responsibilities and bills just keep stacking.
The baby’s awake at two am again
You blink once, and suddenly he’s ten.
Now you’re Santa, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter bunny all rolled into one
Did you really just make that lame pun?
You realize that you sound just like Mom.
When your son brings home a girl, it’s hard to remain calm.
Your husband finds a gray hair on you
And you can’t help but feel a bit blue.
Suddenly, you realize- you’re sitting at your baby’s wedding pew.
Life is a daydream, you reminisce about the past.
How long did eighty years really last?
Sour moods and achy bones
The children moved out, you are now alone.
Open a photo album, look and see.
“Wow, was that really me?”
The fireplace crackles, the rocking chair creaks
You sit your granddaughter on your lap and pinch her cheeks.
“I had pigtails just like you when I was your age”
Suddenly, you realize- it is now your time to exit the stage.
It's inauguration day, January 20, 2021.
I could be at home, watching the TV presentation
pomp and pageantry. But old, achy, onerous and
anxious, bladder full with no toilet near, I wait
in a chilly car in a VA clinic parking lot,
entry to warmth and light prohibited by
the COVID pandemic.
Inside, my life-partner -- afflicted by
diabetic, infected purple insensate
second toe, left foot -- seeks news
of its possible fate: to be treated
or scheduled to be permanently removed
from its too snug position among
the other toes. Fidgety, I have settled
upon re-reading for the umpteenth time
selected pages among my (now) collection
of loose sheets between two crumbling
covers held together by rubber bands:
what's left of my copy of The Vintage Book
of Contemporary American Poetry, edited
by J. D. McClatchy. Many of these poems
(all perhaps?) are no longer "contemporary" --
this is a 1990 paper publication with poetry
from the preceding 40 years. I still treasure
many of the poems.
My custom, when alone, is to read out loud, and
to mark or circle poems, selected phrases, lines,
or passages that I choose, for whatever reason,
and often to think/fantasize how or whether
I might (or would) have written and then recited
in my own words, in my own voice, my own altered
poetic echoes of those lines, those thoughts, those
rhymes, those carefully or recklessly considered
pronouncements and descriptions.
And to wonder whether my own contrivances
would blend well with the originals that fostered
their appearance.
I conclude: my ersatz poetic products might be
somewhat like an infected toe that could be
snipped away -- or treated and tended, nurtured,
cured, made healthy, worthy enough for a place
crowded among those others.
As I have tried (fitfully) here to do.
Curled upon the bed,Seeing visions upside down
Oh how this weather keeps me bound
Tired and achy is how my body feels
Sipping on freshly made tea
With lemon chunks and onion peels
Stuffy nose and watery eyes
I'm feeling worse as time goes by
With a high fever and sweaty feet
And a nauseous stomach I just can't eat
Congested I am, No one understands
At least in this way, Feeling blue.... I am today
You complained, “Don’t come over today -
My throat’s sore, I’m tired, and achy.”
So why are you nude,
In bed with some dude?
If you’re going to lie, pull down the shades!
Another Year Older!
Another Year Older – Another Year Wiser
Happy Birthday to an Older yet Wiser Man.
Stiff Joints and Achy Bones,
Sleepless nights make him grown.
Toss and turn,
Yet never let on.
His sight has its limits,
His hearing is hardly hearing.
Up and moving for there’s plenty that still needs doing!
However, he’s’
Sixty-eight and sleeping late,
A birthday here, A birthday there.
Forget he does
Now and Then!
Another Year Older – Another Year Wiser
For on his Birthday
He’s loved by his
Older yet, Wiser Wife
With her Stiff Joints and Achy Bones,
Limited sight and hard of hearing,
She tosses and turns with her Husband of Years!
Happy Birthday to Years Spent; Well.
Love Your Old and Achy, Wife !