Long Asthmatic Poems
Long Asthmatic Poems. Below are the most popular long Asthmatic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Asthmatic poems by poem length and keyword.
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.
There is a woodpile in my in-laws’ cellar, and some coal, but other rumored things also.
And it has been there a long time since anyone tripped down these broken concrete steps.
Maybe twenty or thirty years; we inherited this home a long time ago.
We have sold it four times on contract,
which has fallen through again.
My husband is not here,
He cannot take it.
But I can, so I take a couple of steps,
Until I get within a foot, when I stop dead as
I can smell the mold through the three-inch door.
The rumor is that there are treasures down there.
I do not know. We were never allowed near this cellar door.
Now I am sixty-six, so technically old enough to go down into this cobwebby den,
But I can smell the mold through the door.
So I back up and rest in an old lawn chair, left by one of the people who thought they
were buying the house before they decided to desert it.
I can still smell the mold, so I back up a bit further, the sun on my face, my feet leaning against a gentle lavender clover.
I am terrified of mold, as I am an asthmatic, and mold could trigger some awfulness in me.
So here I sit, staring as others wander in and out, poking among dusty things
That are disintegrating as they are being brought out into the sun.
Other relatives are coughing; trying to breathe as they haul green and brown stuff out,
Most indistinguishable as real things at first or second glance.
Most needing a power washing, that would completely decimate it.
Maybe she had the right idea, one says, pointing at me, as I lie here, soaking
Up the sun rays. I take off my shoes and push my toes into the clover.
Then I turn my face up, letting the sun hit my nose.
Are you kidding? A teenager yells. This treasure hunt is great!
She runs back down the steps to haul out more loot that her prissy mother
Will never let her take in the car, let alone in the house.
I know because I am prissy girl’s mother.
So here I sit, in a falling-apart green lawn chair, watching the show.
Thinking how my mother-in-law is probably up in heaven laughing, as she too
Smells the mold through that cellar door.
This is what winter brings.
Depressions vines climbing its way back across the mind.
Fleetingly vamping across acres of its inner shell.
Cutting all the warmth that was once held within.
Freezing to the inner core.
A stillness spreading sadness,
An overwhelming grayness.
Breathing coming in asthmatic gasps.
Choking, coughing for a breath of air.
Releasing cloud wisps.
That can be seen by everyone's eyes.
It is now the onset of winter.
The longer nights.
The shorter days.
The crispness in the air.
Knowing soon all life will succumb to its Summers end.
Leaves falling, trees barren.
No flowers sending their scent into the brisk air.
No birds singing melodies to fill the morning sky,
No crickets violinist playing until dawn's early light.
A coldness is all that will be worn.
Sleep is all that will be craved.
Hands, feet unable to feel heat.
Snow will adorn, ice will form.
Madness will ensue.
Stay hidden.
Wrapped up.
As a mad one who lost a true soul mate.
Behave like a good sailor's wife.
Keep watch through the window pane.
Look for signs of life.
Pine away until the trees wake from slumber,
Flowers start to bloom.
Hear the birds sing a favorite song.
Dance to the violins of the crickets song.
Valiant efforts to try to resist
Glistening white frost gloating to stay.
Outside movement stops a whiteness subsist.
Trees harden as soldiers, not any sway.
Laid naked, hold fast in the stark of day.
Cold current bristle clouds nondescript gray.
Mother Nature’s thermostat set on freeze,
Favorite evergreens frozen to the ground
My asthmatic self cannot help but wheeze
Glittering wonderland, looks heaven-bound.
No footsteps yet, snowy air without sound
Glorious comforter covers all ground
A reverent feeling, this solitude
Enjoying beauty of winter’s white frock
Overcome with a joyous gratitude,
Beautiful day sees meaning in a hawk
Majestically calm, not even a squawk
When I look at the hawk’s eyes, our souls lock
Winter has arrived, takes over of course,
A beautiful sight, a reckoning force.
Written 12-02-2018 Contest: Winter Wonderland
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Listen, my dears, and I'll tell you a tale
Of a princess, a pirate, and glory.
There's a shipwreck, a rescue,
A romance, a ransom,
And a handicapped whale in the story.
There once was a princess, fairest of all,
But also quite vain and spoiled rotten.
She had a semi-private
Affair with a pirate
That would be but for me now forgotten.
The pirate, Mad Jack, was bloodthirsty and crude,
When upset, he'd explode, blow his top off.
Merchant vessels he sank,
Made their crews walk the plank,
Or, more rudely, their heads he would lop off.
One day Princess Daphne set out to sea
With her maid, they were bound for Majorca.
But the maid, in a gale,
Was swept over the rail
And inhaled by an asthmatic orca.
Lifeboats were lowered, the crew clambered in
And rowed quickly away, only thinking
Of saving their own necks,
Not the princess below decks
Left alone on a wreck that was sinking.
Then through the storm a ship hove into view,
At first Daphne thought it would dodge her.
But before she could hail her,
She felt courage fail her,
From its mast flew a vast Jolly Roger.
When Princess Daphne was brought before Jack,
She was haughty but thought he was handsome.
But to his greedy eyes
This fair royal prize
Represented a shipload of ransom.
But Jack was still human, Daphne was too,
And soon they were sharing their privates.
To his quarters she moved
And his crew all approved,
No one loves a love tale more than pirates.
But what of the ransom, yet to be paid?
Well, here the plot gets even deeper.
The stingy king said to Jack,
"No, I don't want her back.
It's cheaper for me if you keep her."
So Princess Daphne became Jack's sea wife,
And though common, but not mandatory,
When they became parents
They stopped being pirates
And passed peacefully out of the story.
For now then, my dears, that's the end of my tale,
An adventurous one hard to equal.
But, if I may be so bold,
And there's more to be told,
It may one day unfold in a sequel.
In the Hush
"It is finished!" over, complete
Echoing in the twilight hush
On Saturday's holy ground
Breathing through candles on the Sabbath table
Slowly vibrating to a fevered breath
Strong enough to shatter stone
And melt iron tipped spears to plowshares;
In sacred stillness
Centuries of exile emerge from catacombs of somnolence
In quiet breaths of quietude's understanding
And gather ragged edges of unsettled grieving,
To sit resolved with shredded edges,
Before the quivering daybreak can exhale
Before the Promise of the Ages readies to inhale
Sweet breath
Mystery of the miraculous dangles over
Smiles of silent satisfaction
Victory over the absurd re-enters
Awakening the soft slumber
Of Heaven's returning scarred Prince
In a stone womb sanctuary;
Death whimpers
Forgiveness reunites shallow breathing
In the wheeze of asthmatic gasps
And readies to explode on gales of the first rays
Of rising dawn
Piercing sorrow with breezes of wonder!
Alleluia!
Tears too late to regenerate
and all because we acted too late
Future generations will face decline
If we continue to be ignorant to every sign
Ozone has odor like chlorine bleach
Its now to stop now to teach
For exposure produces headaches, burning eyes
irritated respiratory passages, asthmatic sighs
All of nature in decline
Don’t waste water treat it like wine
Be careful that you sort your rubbish
Recycle everything we publish
What you buy is important too
As is how much liquid flushes down the loo
Then the factories where the ‘stuffs’ produced
need reduce the smog that they’ve induced
Stop pollution at its source
And where possible walk of course
Or otherwise lets travel together
Protect our plants, trees and our weather
The Greatest Show on Earth - Two
Mr. Pik lived alone, across our street
All the kids knew him, dressed up so neat;
Mr. Pik loved the circus – every kind -
Each year, in our mailbox, tickets, we’d find;
Finally the night came and none too soon
Excitement growing by light of the moon
Girls dressed in dresses – shoes – patent leather
Boys in bow ties – no matter the weather.
Families scrunched in old station wagons
Sounding just like an asthmatic dragon;
First came the clowns with red funny noses
Squirting the crowd – water from fake, roses;
Next, the acrobats riding sleek horses,
Purples plumes on their heads – never off course;
Walkers on tightropes leaving us breathless –
Covered our eyes, watching never the less;
Finally the last act – our hearts would seize -
Daring young man on the flying trapeze;
A rollicking, boisterous evening of mirth
Mr. Pik’s gift – the greatest show on earth.
5-10-21
Contest: Rhyming Couplets
Sponsor: Janice Canerdy
Every year our neighbor, Mr. Pik – a widower – would treat the neighborhood to a night at the circus.
Pollution is found in our rivers and seas
Of raw chemical waste and plastic
Toxic pesticides are killing the bees.
Mother Earth is down on her knees
This man made situation is drastic
Pollution is found in our rivers and seas.
In forests they're cutting down the trees
That is affecting everything climatic
Toxic pesticides are killing the bees.
Clouds of toxic dust travels on the breeze
That causes many to become asthmatic
Pollution is found in our rivers and seas.
More pandemics are coming with disease
The experts are not being overdramatic
Toxic pesticides are killing the bees.
Mother Earth will either burn or freeze
Seeing our earth dying is quite traumatic.
Pollution is found in our rivers and seas
Toxic pesticides are killing the bees.
Written on 14th April 2021
A MAJOR WORLD PROBLEM Poetry Contest
Sponsored By L. Milton Hankins
Listen to the sound of my fading link and a dying breath
Our poems are more than just words
That's the world we live in are more than walls with doors that we need to walk through ,
Life is a battle field
Were you are on your own
No alias
The only weapon you have are your hands
And even though that has been tired behind your back
You still have to fight back
With imagination faster than light s
Life is nothing like a race
Always in a rush to nowhere.
Know were you are going before you start running
We become like lost memories of a sad stories
Dear H2O poetry is your life and when you go on stage so that
They could rate your peace ,
Who made man judge over your life
True integrity
True integrity is like breathing constance
Try not to be asthmatic for the day you strangle with breath
So that the truth doesn't flow
Something in you dies you are a product of a wrong indoging and remember next Time you indogi in the truth do it like the sex story .
spread your legs
Silence is the most serious crime of suspicion
The next time you indogi in spoken word poetry remember they're queens of many party are not interested in marrying your interest but rap your free will
The next time indogi in the truth Barry your concious and everything on the altar of queens these holy hypocrite that make love look like snacks spitting on the grave
The next time u indogi in the truth
Spend the nights near grave yard near the Mediterranean sea
And and hopeless nights that this sea sait
Don't you get it life here is like sea saw
Dear Jennifer remember that barried underneath
And umbilical cord have you have slept half dead a woman comes knocking for wen you sold me lies I listened I call you my queen coz even wickedness needs high .......
7 January 2020