Long Asthma Poems
Long Asthma Poems. Below are the most popular long Asthma by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Asthma poems by poem length and keyword.
Nine Lives Removed From Royal Dig Nitty ©?ß
(alternately titled: lion eyes hide sharp claws)
Aye attest tubby reincarnated
from one male Russian Blue
species Felis silvestris catus
named Morris if that gives a clue,
and during my fuzzy past
hence, asthma “Cats Cradle”
segued into kitten hood
fur hum lee established
type cats as (tin pan) alley cat,
a rather litter boxed gritty debut
t'wood become (later in life) tabby
quick as greased lightening
snatching in the air,
when tender vittles flew,
technically got fired (acquiring
appropriate nick names)
as fame (like a bushy cat tail) grew
viz perfect back up crooner
for “Cat Stevens”,
or lead singer for
the "Stray Cats" oddly
coupled, featured, and
incorporated with the guru
Horton Hears A Hoo,
yes him Elephant resembling
a humungous mandrake
from the, "Animals"
whose body heat could
easily melt an igloo,
whereby Eskimos accepted charity from
Korean philanthropists named Joo
(founders of Palaces for Pachyderms)
these lumbering creatures possessed
an exemplary photographic memory
(rivaling that of the amazing
deceased idiot savant
Kim Peek) knew
practically every detail
incorporating trunk their lines
(and could track missing link,
when felines shared common ancestor
but,...such petty files would most likely boar
and go way off course, and hence
will shy away being extempore
favoring a deliberate fore
ray padding around basically ignore
ring any rhyme or reason
suddenly ending this persiflage,
and thence to thee bon jour.
In 2020 I wish I had not let my mother die,
but bone cancer has a mind of its own, and does not ask permission
I am glad we had her memorial service on February second
For other mothers were buried in March
And the congregation was limited to ten mourners.
I am glad that I painted forty new canvases, and had the time.
In 2020 I wish I had more incentive to watch the U-tube videos
That showed me how to use GoogleClassroom and Zoom
As we have been using them extensively for eight months now
Man, I really really really wish I had paid more attention
how to set up appointments and how the calendar interacts with these programs. I feel happy that I wrote over two thousand poems though.
In 2020 I am glad that I got to see four of my grandchildren,
But feel sad that it has been a year since I have seen the other six.
I regret having shingles and asthma,
for these ailments have kept me from fully living this pandemic year.
It has kept me home, “safely” sheltered in place.
I regret my weight gain, but understand it.
Eating has been my only comfort in 2020.
I am excited to say I am eating a Milky Way candy bar right now.
(alternately titled: lion eyes hide sharp claws
unless made irate, then yours truly
bares his sharp talons
on all of mine faux pas).
Aye attest tubby reincarnated
from one male Russian Blue
species Felis silvestris catus
named Morris if that gives a clue,
and during my fuzzy past
hence, asthma “Cats Cradle”
segued into kitten hood
fur hum lee established
type cats as (tin pan) alley cat,
a rather litter boxed gritty debut
t'wood become (later in life) tabby
quick as greased lightning
snatching in the air,
when tender vittles flew,
technically got fired (acquiring
appropriate pet nicknames)
as fame (like a bushy cat tail) grew
viz perfect back up crooner
for “Cat Stevens”,
or lead singer for
the "Stray Cats" oddly
coupled, featured, and
incorporated with the guru
Horton Hears A Hoo,
yes him Elephant resembling
a humungous mandrake
from the, "Animals,"
whose body heat could
easily melt an igloo,
whereby Eskimos accepted charity from
Korean philanthropists named Joo
(founders of Palaces for Pachyderms),
these lumbering creatures possessed
an exemplary photographic memory
(rivaling that of the amazing
deceased idiot savant
Kim Peek) knew
practically every detail
incorporating trunk hated lines
(and could track missing lynx),
when felines shared common ancestor
but,...such petty files would most likely boar
and go way off course, and hence
I will shy away being extempore
favoring a deliberate fore
ray padding around basically ignore
ring any rhyme or reason
suddenly ending this persiflage,
and thence to thee bon jour.
We were in the upper region of the Artic.
It was cold; our breaths were recorded in the atmosphere
I was huffing and puffing as I climbed.
Shh! Our guide said.
I could not help it; I am an asthmatic.
Shh! The others said.
I was annoyed now.
I have asthma, I told them. I cannot help it!
Too bad, the guide said, “For you are annoying the cougar”.
I looked into large dark eyes, and my heart stopped.
I knew I was in trouble.
When encountering a big cat, do not run, my training said.
As if I could run.
I was completely still, trying not to breathe.
I began to hyperventilate, which seemed to draw his gaze.
I averted my eyes, not wanting to challenge him.
“She is gone,” the guide said. “You can breathe again.”
As if I could.
a pink sky pinker than any other sky I’ve ever seen
no one will believe it I thought so I took photos
One after another, but none could hope to capture it
For it was more than three dimensional, it was surreal dimensional
I gave up after the sixty-eighth disappointment
It looks cold out there my husband said, snuggled in his Lazy-Boy.
It is, I agreed, but worth it for it is so beautiful.
I thought you were not supposed to go out because of your asthma
I have a little doctor’s excuse about that because it is true.
I am not able to breathe well in less than thirty degrees
I went out anyway, and I stayed out
Trying to get the picture
Which I never got
Because this is
the pinkest
sky in the world
and I am that
photographer.
My brother died so suddenly, unexpectedly
at sixty six, a young age in today’s standard.
He contracted the Corona virus that took his life.
Unable to breathe, he was taken to emergency
on Christmas Eve and was admitted to stay.
With all the available care administered,
he still struggled with his breathing and
was transferred to Intensive Care Unit,
intubated and was put on the ventilator.
With his weak body, he struggled more
and lost his dear life in mid-January.
Now, I knew and learned through his family,
how much stress he was dealing with,
how he painfully and continuously struggled
with all the family issues, concerns, hardships.
How he was singularly tackling all these
adversities, problems, difficulties, aside from
his health conditions of asthma, diabetes,
high blood pressure and so on and on.
The financial, mental, emotional tolls
and medical conditions he went through
affected him more physically, manifesting
in tremendous muscle aches and pains,
making him struggle more almost every day.
Just thinking even in near death
or up to the end of his life, he struggled.
Now, he rests in peace, no more life struggles.
His life struggles taken from him, for him to rest.
3/8/21 Life's Struggles Any Form - Updated Poetry
Constance La France
PS Grammar: Checked
Georgie
His was a pudgy boyish countenance,
With rounded river eyes and an Alfalfa smile.
He wheezed like a sick tern with repeated asthma attacks,
Playing hard at the various outdoor games and chases,
Of our fleeting childhood years in the inhaling sun.
He perspired profusely in 1964 as he sat with beads of sweat which
Gathered like a water pox above his lips, all in a wheezing row.
Bespectacled Georgie was the curlicued, black-haired boy
who lived two houses up from ours; the one with the green hedge.
He wore converse sneakers, a white tee and blue denim, with
Thick black-framed glasses astride his chubby white face.
His was a temper not sought by anyone, including Elsie his mother.
Georgie was her little boy, but when angered, baseball bats went flying.
Curse words were screamed loudly with one’s birth name questioned intensely.
Stones and large rocks were heaved at innocent windows and nearby statuary.
Baseballs were hurled at the heads of other little boys, with misses near and far.
Toy darts were skipped across baking sidewalks to the bare feet of his playmates,
Producing more loud voices shrieking in pain when the darts impaled their feet.
Oranges and lemons were rabidly picked for the purpose of pummeling one’s nose;
But gentle mother Elsie loved her little Georgie, and his little blue inhaler.
Years and decades sailed by like lost boats in a starless harbor.
Little Georgie grew into a pudgy man with nothing changed except, the drugs.
Marijuana odors hovered like invisible swarms of masticating locusts,
Lurking above the silent brick houses of our street, with old Georgie lighting up.
With a pipe and a baggie in his pocket, my old friend gave up on his life.
He decided not to work, but to take aimless walks down deserted avenues;
Day after empty day he took his drifting strolls into a personal oblivion.
We subsequently lost contact in the ensuing decades, and I forgot about him.
Until recently… I found out…
Georgie’s funeral took place 25 years ago at Rose Hills Cemetery.
Rest in piece old friend, old tormentor, with your little blue inhaler.
Dear feet, I feel I need to apologise
For all the trouble that I hand you.
I walk and run and slip and jump,
It’s crazy what you stand through.
No wonder you get bald toes,
With all the stress that I cause.
When all you want is a nice hot bath,
Where you can relax and soak your paws.
Dear feet, on behalf of science,
I feel I need to say sorry.
Those names you have of phalange and talus,
Should not cause you to worry.
If it were up to me I’d give you cool,
Funky groovy sorts of labels.
Names you’d be proud to say to your mates,
On dressing room tables.
Dear feet, I know of the nerve endings you have,
And how you can help my asthma.
Can fix anxiety, headaches and kidneys,
Can cure it through my plasma.
You use your magical powers,
Using that mysterious reflexology,
Obviously you’re some sort of freak,
A beautiful freak of our human biology.
Dear feet, of course I’ll dress you
In the warmest, longest cashmere socks.
And house you in the toughest boots,
Throwing out those old flip flops.
I’ll massage you and wash you and
Give you the best part of the bed.
And from now on, well as much as I can,
I’ll be careful where I tread.
Ah at last camaraderie restored within the Oval Office!
Whew... now with president er... Chief
tenderloin hoof and mouth
knick knack paddywhack shah row'n nah
diseased Trumpen proletariat -
ever so..., (think huck Cain Abel) -
phloem with his tree men diss
anti semitic, biased,
cutthroat dagger type bull leaf
eager, ready and willing
to give Democrats endless good grief,
(a substantial Casanova chock full
of McDonald's fast food beef),
that wily rotten thief
(machiavellian hedonistic commander
with playboy special penchant
to lend wind blow dried hair courtesy queef),
his princely (Jared jarhead) reign no end,
(I reckon at least bajillion years) in sight,
yours truly breathes deep sigh of relief
the meritocratically jaded, general electorate,
who try bringing good things to life - reef
fur to moost recent impeachment acquittal
asthma tongue in cheek persiflage leitmotif.
All Joe king ass hide, I really dread
locked worst case forty sixth oaf with
absolute zero governmental effective cred,
which scariest horror story scenario...
unfathomable, incomprehensible, amenable
to coon sitter seriously joining grateful dead
volunteering bon voyage euthanasia led
by tried and true straight
and narrow grim reaper
me more than willing
to enlist underground
grassroots movement instead
populated courtesy dark shadows
lovely numbskulls and crossbones
think Zombies patrolling
devoid of talking head,
nonetheless not frightening compared
to heir apparent of Fred,
whose real estate Mogul prodigal son
on warpath to shred
life, liberty and pursuit of happiness
no matter *****sapiens
turning planet Earth,
wind and fire more'n politically blood red!
THE MANY SPEAKSIES JAZZ SESSIONS BLACK PANTHER DAYCARE BREAKFAST PROGRAM CIVIL RIGHTS RIOTS WITH MY FATHER GROWING UP IN CHICAGO I WAS BORN IN THE MIDDLE OF THEE COLDEST BLIZZARD IN CHICAGO ON SAM COOK'S BIRTHDAY THE BEGINING OF THE YEAR OF 1963 MY DAD DOTED ON ME SINGING I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU ALL OF MY LIFE AFTER RETURNING HOME FROM EUROPE FACE TO FACE WITH BEING EMOTINALLY TRAUMATIZED TO WEARING WIRES PREGNANT FOR THE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATIONS ARLINGTON HEIGHTS ILLINOIS MY DAD WAS VERY CONERNED ABOUT ME AND MY FOUR LITTLE CHILDREN I MOVED IN BACK HOME TO THE GARDENS WITH HIM 1989 AFTER MY NONA DIED OF A STRANGE BRAIN CANCER MANY OTHERS WERE DYING AS WELL EVEN INFANTS BORN WITH BRAIN TUMORS LUNG PROBLEMS I REMEMBER AS A CHILD I WAS VERY SICK EVERYTIME I WENT TO THE GARDENS SOMETHING ABOUT REACHING 131ST I WOULD VOMIT ALWAYS SO SENSITIVE TO TOXIC FUMES NO ONE COULD PREDICT WHAT WOULD BECOME OF THE PEOPLE OF ALTGELD GARDENS IT WAS THERE SINCE 1945 AFTER POP RETURNED FROM WW11 I SUPPOSE ALTGELD GARDEN WAS BUILT UNFORTUNATELY THE GARDENS WAS A DUMPING GROUND OF TOXIC CARCENGENIC CAUSING CANCERS MY DAD WAS SO DISTRAUGHT HOW MY NONA COULD LIVE BEING BLIND ALL THESE YEARS AND OUT OF NO WHERE BRAIN CANCER WE ALL WERE IT WAS 1988 HER PASSING WAS DEVESTATING 1126 E 131 STREET NOW MY CHILDREN AND I WERE BACK 1989 IN THE GARDENS MANY REPORTERS TO LAW GROUPS HEALTH DEPARTMENT IT WAS THERE WE ALL SIGNED THE PETITIONS TO REMOVE THE ABESTOS TOXINS FROM ALTGELD GARDENS RESIDENT ISSUES MY DAD AND I WERE BLESSED TO HAVE THE CHANCE TO SIT AND TALK WITH BARACK OBAMA COMMUNITY LEADERS SIDE BY SIDE FIGHTING FOR ENVIROMENTAL CHANGES AIR QUALITY IN LOW INCOME COMMUNITIES THESE ISSUES WERE VERY IMPORTANT ISSUES TO MY FATHER AND TO MYSELF PENNILESS LAWSUITS WERE FILED SETTLEMTENTS AS WELL THE LOSS OF LIFE THE BROKEN DOWN QUALITY OF LIFE JUST BY LIVING AND BREATHING AIR IN THE DONUT DISTRICT TODAY I HAVE PULMONARY ASTHMA REMEMBERING MY FATHER FIGHTING FOR ENVORMENTAL JUSTUCE IN LOVING MEMORY OF MY NONA LIKE AN INFANT DEVELOPING BRAIN TUMORS WHILE BEING A LONG TIME RESIDENT OF ALTGELD GARDENS