Long Sneezing Poems
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Not for nothing am I something.
My alter-ego absent-mindedly swats a fly
from the tip of its nose.
The hard stool I am sat upon squirms,
if it had one more leg it might have left the room.
Take you for instance, your unfounded faith
in reality,
it's always changing,
your life is a changing room,
your clothes never fit, and your choice of hats
attracts the attention of interdimensional aliens,
who, as we all know,
are always looking to nest somewhere.
I think the chair needs to take a dump, it's straining
under my weight, and my alternative persona
is now sneezing uncontrollably.
I bolt for the door, chasing after my soul,
which suddenly has decided to take a vacation
far away from my
hard to explain, presence.
"Reality shall not be infringed". I yell.
A saggy skin is turning gray -
fingers, long and thin,
hang below my ankles in disarray.
I should like to try more time-travel
but shockingly,
I think this is the end of the line.
It's Pollen Time
(to the tune of Cryin' Time)
By Franklin Price
4/9/2015
It's pollen time again you know I see it
From the morning time until I see the stars
It's pollen time again my nose can feel it
And I see the yellow on all of our cars
Well it's pollen time again the bees are buzzing
To take the nectar from the flowers in the bloom
Well it's pollen time again my eyes are tearing
I really need to find an air conditioned room
The humming birds are back from their migration
Looking for the feeders we have hung outside
Much too tired to search for nectar in the flowers
Drink sugar water 'til the feeder's have run dry
Pollen time you've got to know it soon will leave us
Summer heat and black mosquitoes come along
Humming Birds and pollen then will be all gone
Runny nose and prolonged sneezing won't belong
Spring is reknowned for its return of things,
allergies from tree pollen and ragweed,
warmer weather, fields of heather that brings
sneezing and sniffling noses, so take heed.
River ice thaws, causing lowlands to flood,
wreaking havoc, worry, and does great harm.
Properties are covered by silt and mud.
Lives are lost. Neighborhoods raise the alarm.
April rains are something I've come to dread.
Although Spring showers nurture every rose,
they create breeding grounds for mosquitoes~
Blood sucking pests buzzing around my head.
Most people look forward to Spring each year
but some don't rejoice in it with good cheer.
February 6, 2023
Spring Is Not All Contest
Sponsor: Michelle Faulkner
Only my saviors childs are the this worlds capture
We sinners live to see the rapture
It was something more than a catastrophe
My conscience steadily asking me
Is the plan still to live life severe and disaster free?
My dreams are exhausted, seems temptation has reached the sky’s
Sinners become saints, attempting to figure which prophecy lies
Veins constantly bleeding, I can feel my soul leaving
Yet I’m forever breathing
The curse of Kane
No flu shots cause I’m never sneezing
Seems my misery is ever pleasing
And with the mourning after
I wonder why these children are your lords only capture
Yet we sinners live to see the rapture
Label me sexiest, homophobic, homosexuals baring arms in marriage
A third of the world is gone
Bury baby Jesus with charms in his carriage
Execution of minors
I guess there’s nothing in this life finer
Dear child I watched your mother scrub the windows of that diner
Who am I to say that you are wrong?
But who are you to weigh that child and determine if he’ll live long
Mr. President consistently stepping over hurricane victims
Misery no longer worry’s my pain, I can see it’s only a sitcom
Do you remember nine/eleven
Simply because that September, down south was your only heaven
And as you galloped with the clouds
Alqueda stood on it’s soil, it’s dust and dirt proud
But then again I’m wrong to speak out
But I guess making home is what being weak is about
A woman’s right is abortion
Perhaps it’s wrong but it’s only a portion
The tragedy’s we smile to see
The happy times are where we suffered above tiles to be
Breathing on my last breath
Leading my last steps
Of coarse the worlds gone end
But it seems my saviors childs are the worlds only capture
SAID THE PANDEMIC aren't you afraid yet
I've been around a long time.
They call me SARS, MERS and now COVID-19.
Take precautions,
be clean and careful
for I descend like an Omen.
Sneezing,
coughing,
bone chilling hot temperatures
that destroy your lungs
and even your heart.
I can be Deadly!
I am the result of human misjudgment and interjection,
from consuming the forbidden,
overuse of antibiotics,
and chemical experiments to name a few.
You know they created me.
So do yourself a favor,
eat lots of veggies,
fish, black seed oil,
take your vitamins,
anything to boost your wimpy immune systems,
because I refuse to be treated lightly.
I do show up without knowledge,
travel in thin air,
spreading by the slightest of touches,
even lingering for a while,
wherever you may leave me,
on cart handles,
door knobs,
counter tops,
wash rooms,
just about any and everywhere.
So be Cautious and Aware,
for yes I AM DEADLY
and will take you
before your time.
Christmas is a long song sung in winter,
An epic poem written with white quill feather pen and
Gold ink, and on clouds of paper,
Beginning from a sneezing December to a
Dizzying twelfth-calendar month,
When snow drizzles gently into the souls of
Those who hearken to the tinkling sound of
The church bell which rings gently with the weight of
The slow-passing season.
I see whiteness in every song, with so much redness;
Regal and romantic; flagrantly friendly.
Oh, how pure!
Oh, how sweet!
Well, that’s Christmas.
It lights up the courage in us to think right and assume
Merriment in the warmness of some frozen hearts.
It’s the best time of the year.
I swear to this because I am a child of Christmas.
It’s a time of fog and dew and sleet that rebaptise us.
Let’s not forget the slanting rain whose liquid kisses us.
And white Christmas of snow-carpeted lands and seas.
There’s no other time or season like it.
So full of gentleness and love,
Christmas causes hearts to race s-l-o-w-l-y,
As the year races on to breast the tape of seasons.
I could make ring bells from seashells found on seashores
go into retail where these bells get sold on shop floors
and tell thee tales of Seabells see sales win awards
if Seabells received well we could see sells soar
but there be fails and seashells will see me shut doors
Seabells on thee shelves won't sell themselves
Seabells that stay shelved are Seabells in stealth
but if retail sees sells these bells might split shells
when Seabells break seashells they Seabells no more
in retail it entails that Seabells a chore
stealing seashells from seashores for Seabells is wrong
Seabells in retail ensure failed rewards
leave seashells on seashores where seashells belong
sit on a seesaw it sees sore your bum
a sore bum on a seesaw's a seesaw no fun
(none of this stanza is part of the poem I'm just)...
sawing a seesaw for Cecil in sun
sees seesaw I Cecil for saws so seesaws
no I saw for sneezing Cecil a seesaw he saw
Cecil does sizzle when Cecil's in sun
snoozing a little he frizzle a frum
I've syphilis symptoms seep sauces abort
a sauce on a seesaw in slippers and shorts
it sizzles my settle a saw Cecil's seesaw
a seashore with seesaws see seashells flung
a seesaw at seashores not see sure for sum
seashells flung seaward hit sailors at sea (dong)
seems I cannot stop recycling sims-
ulating symptoms of simpleton dumb)
yeah im done phew
A Ghost of a Chance
Life is set up from start
A dogs life
Pops take me out for a drive
She begged
But it was too far just for16 dollars
But every turn of the beaten road makes life more truthful Down and outs waiting for you since birth
fortune is blind to wishes and wants
living to the end is just not possible
To answer a question are you comfortable
Soldiers left killers writes
The book of ghosts
Ill take an hour on the cross to free humanity forever
Somethings have no guarantees
Who is taken i
s talking to you
By force
Who can trap anyone who isn't looking fierce
Or being the robot of doom or dogmas friend
Sense populous reclaiming scant scratch and bite abandoned dreams remain
Identified as those to bomb
To lose or never have had
Humanity
We can't win without a voice
It'll be the end of my days
So who will breathe for tomorrow
To and from an end and a beginning
To those just entered
A World without sleep
Throw back identities
Who now breathes the stagnant air of a distracted youth
Swallowing silently
A quick portray
A fools way
To be left on the streets
Bleeding the blood of betrayed
Of getting the boot out of Hollywood
A follow of Cristian sneezing lemon dust
Chance of love after smile
Chance of a thrill
After a growl
No Kings
Just amens
A ghost in the house
Spirits run
Chased by demons screems break through
Waves of oceans
You cant wait to fall asleep to share a spot with those who made you strong
Make them yours
Don't kid yourself even if your shoes are stuck in limbo waiting for the roll
of a criticàlly impaired
pair of dice
I find hard to move around,
dragging my aching body,
unable to do even the simplest chores...
yes, I am very sick of flu:
it's something I can't undo!
I will not go to the hospital,
lie in a comfortable bed for hours,
coughing and sneezing waiting for a call...
while spreading this virus and infecting others.
I'm missing out on brisk walks
that keep my immune system healthy,
and no blues frustrate me more than loneliness...
come spring and let joy renew itself in this memory.
My remedy is Robitussin by far,
a miraculous cure for cold symptoms,
and since I can't go out, or drive my car...
I indulge myself in the creation lyrics.
It's my first day back to work,
I'm drinking coffee, and I shouldn't,
but these headaches won't go away...
unless I smell it, sip it and dream away.
Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci
Knife goes chopping with the beat,
on the mint which scent so sweet,
Rice arborio n' boiling heat,
Rocking rythm in my feet.
Robbie Williams on my radio,
My spoilt dog stretched in the patio,
Whilst i cook ,clean and sweep,
She is snoring fast asleep.
Washing floors,doing all chores,
In the oven,hot bon bons.
Ow.my God,Its getting late,
sheets are waiting to be layed,
Ironed skirts and steaming shirts,
burnt my finger,Ouch it hurts!
Some ice will have to do,
bumped my head,and turned out blue,
No time for me to feel so sorry,
Swollen head,No time for worry.
Ran upstairs in a breakdance,
to sit down,there's not a chance.
Jumping quickly in the shower,
whilst regaining some cat power,
tick tock-tick tock goes the clock,
there's no time for happy hour.
Brushed my teeth,High Heels in feet,
some perfume and a light treat.
All is ready,all is well,got my keys
texted a pal,Once again ding-dong,
the bell,at this moment,Who's the hell?
It's my neighbour from next door,
melts my ice.He's not a bore,
Cos Of him I'm running late,
guess my boss will have to wait.
Come on in,I said to him,
His left foot already in,
Handsome guy with a huge grin,
Sugar man,One man to win.
What Will i offer him ? a coffee?
I hadn't any beer,Some wine?
or some orange with gin?
Time was pressing in,
Called at work and did a sin,
Called my boss,I faked a fever,
So much thanks,She's a believer.
Smelled some pepper,started
sneezing,My boss's answer
was so pleasing,"Stay at home,
Get well dear,Lots of love and
tender care,don't come close,
No need to share,bye,bye dear".
Problem solved,so wisely done,
Neighbour joined me in the garden,
so relaxed licking the Sun.
Ate lunch and had dessert,
He's a darling and a flirt,
After followed with more fun,
On my sofa,One ON One.
Charma
(This is all fiction,apart for the busy routine! My neighbours are good
old neighbours too,and Im loyal to my boss,just in case..:-)