Coughed Poems | Examples

a soul less killer dies

he didn’t blink
when the light caught his face—
just stared like a dog too long in the rain.

no prayers,
no cries,
no family on the concrete bench.

he killed for sport,
like swatting flies—
and still the world made room for him.

the guards were tired,
the chaplain bored.
death smelled like disinfectant and steel.

he coughed once.
then again.
then silence.

nobody wept—
not even the devil.

Parasocial Relationship: What Remains Is the Latch

I’ve kept the bone-ash circle open—
chalked in wax traced from your last reply,
the one you coughed out sideways
between a mirror and an echo,
Just to reiterate, it read. 
(Though you’ve unsent it now—
the smoke still mouths it back.)

The salt forgets which door to guard,
whether you're enemy or friend.
My tea leaves knot themselves
into nooses. The knife won’t keep
its edge unless I say your name
with my mouth full of soot. You know
who you are. 

We only spoke three times—
I still remember your laugh. 

I burned your coat—
the one already nicked at the cuff,
lined with lint and one of my hours.
The smoke limped east,
then circled back.

I still leave the latch loose.
Not for you—
just in case
some ghost with your gait
remembers how
my spine once knocked
like a drum left running.

You entered my silence like a violin bow dragged with blood

You entered my silence like a violin bow dragged with blood through shattered stained glass
I sewed your laughter under my eyelids and lungs, and the light transformed into myriads of fragrant wounds
I coughed wild moon petals for weeks, my mouth full of the echo of your ever-burning footsteps
There is no cure for you, you are the high fever that shapes bones into transparent crystal bells
You are the imperial chandelier fallen right in the middle of the sonata, when the air still trembles with flame and glass
And I lean daily among the shards, gathering your syllables like phosphorescent fish above my heart
I taste them with fear, checking if they still smell of sound, if they still shake the rooftops of my orbit
Every morning I bandage my lungs with sheet music, hoping that silence will flow from me
But the silence breaks anew and your echo returns like a kite torn by a storm
So I clutch your broken glass in my fists, to make it sound like the violin again

I Remember You -- the city speaks

(The Hollow City Cycle include:
The Hollow City
I Remember You -- the city speaks
Last One Left)

You left me when the lights flickered
and the water turned bitter.
When the sky coughed ash
and the birds stopped singing.

You ran.
All of you.
As if I hadn’t held your every heartbeat
in the bricks of my spine.

I fed your dreams--
from paper boys to prophets.
I kept your secrets
in sewer grates and sun-warmed benches.
I lit your windows,
caught your tears,
sheltered your sins.

And now--
the vines know my name.
The weeds whisper lullabies
where children once screamed.
The wind is my voice,
and it remembers.

Don’t come back
to grieve what you abandoned.
I have roots now.
And bones.

River Wild

joy and sadness tangled fate 
one came home extremely late 
my gleeful sons rods in hand deceitful river, fish they planned

shifting forest running free 
twisting turns among the trees grinning water spies the meal 
two young boys come to heel

laughing, spinning noonday sun 
they bait their hooks in hopes of fun jumping floating rock to rock 
follows the stream with no dock

fluidic arm grasps the child 
muscled water river wild 
lost in waves shifting death 
small boy lost, weight and breath

searching, yelling, hoping, praying darkling dusk a night in making silent moan, shifting white 
brought my son to my sight.

along the banks among the trees 
lay my boy who coughed and wheezed 
in my arms my son returned 
the memory forever burned

love, live in moments they say 
So often time just slips away 
my sons they grew 
thank god for two

could have been one...
or none

rolly poly foley kitty cat

Rolly poly foley kitty cat
Ate a sandwich with a fried-up rat
Coughed up a bit on my welcome mat
Because he did not want to get totally fat

The Irritable Chest Cold

The sun had risen but could not be seen. 
Still daylight was welcome in her studio.
She stood hunched with pain over her easel.
The landscape was not quite what she wanted.
She had decided to portray the joys of nature,
Lovely cerulean firmament with hazy clouds
Hovering in the background just beneath and around
The majestic mountains of her new abode.

Stately trees dotted the countryside and 
Intermixed with cosy cabins, smoke curling
Into the sky because it was a cold and humid place.
Even inside her cabin, the air was irritating.
Outside, the continual grey rain would not stop.
She felt cold and coughed a lot, as well as chest congestion.
Darn, raining cats and mice today!  She felt confused.
Cats and mice?  Or dogs?  What did it matter,
Once the foul inclement weather would not change?

to be concluded

letter c having fun

cool calico cat could come and coddle cuddle cautioned Cali’s cousin
Carmen. Campy Cameron coughed curiously, considering this caution
comical. Calico cat commandeered the cabin and café, a considerable
conquest, considering the coolness of Cali, Carmen and Cameron.

The Postmodernist Exhibition

Last night's storm
has left its artwork on the beach,
a postmodernist exhibition 
of brown seaweed strewn in clumps 
like hair on a barbershop floor,
broken seashells 
and a fallen rainbow of plastics 
strung out along the shore
where now an exhausted sea
licks the leftovers of a meal.

Chaos has been distilled down
to washed up artifacts 
and red bottle caps, drinking straws
and spoons buried deep inside a ball
of yellow twine. I cannot make
much sense of what is on display
or glean from this haphazard art
a hint of meaning 
other than in its making.

All seems uncoupled, specimens 
torn from lonely souls, bits
and pieces coughed up 
out of the exhaust of a huge machine 
whose pistons pump and drive
a spinning wheel that has no purpose. 
I pick up a plastic sandal 
and wonder whose foot 
it once belonged to, then put it back
and walk home
alone.

Portuguese Man o' War

Sunrise and already the water 
is being seared with a glow 
as if under a grill. 
You can feel the heat building
in the morning air, the sand 
still warm from yesterday.

The tide has left the creature
stranded on the beach,
its frilled sail glistening 
and rigged with blue tentacles
clumped menacingly beside
its motionless body.

The sun will soon cook it
to a dried out bladder.
This drifting marvel of murder
is now no more than sea phlegm 
coughed up on the crest 
of a wave. It looks so pitiful.

And yet it still 
has the power to inflict 
a painful sting. Venom
waits for one last desperate
chance to snare some poor
careless prey.

My fingers seem possessed 
with a will to pick it up 
to see how it feels without 
being stung. I hover somewhere
between head and hand, 
stranded by indecision.




Footnote 
This is one of a series of poems 
that have the shoreline as the 
backdrop for the exploration
of meaning in things washed up
on the beach or in the experience 
of being in the moment.
Paul

rated XX l'il jane's l'il cousin

.
     Their thug chained
               mine
              whilst
        through storm's
                wet
                  i
            coughed

      'twuz the sunny
         the dirt wuz
              black
            and hot

      their thug thrusted
   mine in the ground hut
        with the naked
              jane's
          little cousin

             i meant
           her cousin
            yes i did

Fearing the Storm

The dark night did his fearfulness arouse,
While flashing-booming-crackling filled the air.
This night of trepidation fills the house; 
breath shortened running fingers through his hair.

Dark fear descends the mountain with a scream,
like flames from mouths of dragons, fear burns deep.
He cannot rest, perchance he moves to dream.
There is no sanctuary within sleep.

With every fear that populates his heart,
his head is buried ‘neath the pillow soft.
The fear that stalks his soul will not depart.
“Perhaps this is the last time.” Then he coughed.

Brief reassurance panics, then soon flees.
All hopes and dreams will not his life appease.

"A coward dies a thousand times before his death, but the valiant taste of death but once. It seems to me most strange that men should fear, seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come." ? (Julius Caesar) William Shakespeare

11:30

11:30

Dark circles

Creepy eyes

Heavy breath

Weeping sigh

"Won't you miss me when I'm gone",

She cried.

He fondle her while he choked up

His misty - eyed;

Unaware that she'll be gone,

Suddenly his concious got him,

Realised that she'll leave soon

For her Paradise.

He fondle her, 

She coughed harder amid 

Her breath was heavier than her eyes

It was late night , hospital 

'She' under his arms 

"Smile when I'm gone.."

She said.,

"I'll have two place where I feel safe,

Up there,and right in your arms :)

I'll be watching after you,

I'll keep you safe ,just be jolly"

"I don't know how to .."

He sobbed.,

"I'll give you mine,as a gift,

Do wear it"

She smile, gazing at him:)

He smile back.

Absent From School

Tony had an unwritten absence 
Which he did not choose.
He suddenly became ill.
He hated having the blues.

He coughed, had a fever;
Lay completely still.
He felt nauseous,
And he had body chills.

His mom was the one
Who told the school his fate.
The teacher was saddened to hear
Tony did not feel great.

He hated missing school.
He was popular and smart.
He always studied hard.
He used his mind and heart.

It took a few days
Before Tony was well.
Then again went to each class
Before the tardy bell.

Beg To See Leg With Peg

when we would rehearse
shallow we had found our purse
things will become worse

we could comprehend
that rules will have to amend
prayers to God send

mouth started to sag
when he had been known to brag
ball would have to shag


always great to know
bad news when off big mouth blow
we had told them so

from will have to rid
attitude would be rancid
acted like a kid

when we crossed the track
we will not be coming back
had burned down our shack

when we saw his wart
lied and sold people short
could end up in court

when we saw him beg
we had looked at his each leg
one would wear a peg

once we knew a judge
after we did start to nudge
he would have to fudge

landed in hay loft
was allergic and had coughed
yet still would be soft

thought that he was cute
dumber than cake with much fruit
big mouth off would shoot

had heard latest tweet
his toes did stick out of sheet
which covered his feet

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