Short Be Sick Poems
Short Be Sick Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Be Sick by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Be Sick by length and keyword.
Happiness
Should be spread
As if it were, diseased
Then
Anyone infected
Would not be sick, but pleased
WIZDUMBs BY JA 282
Joe be nimble
Joe be quick
Joe is a plagiarizer
Who stole his shtick
Joe be simple
Joe be sick
Joe can’t remember
Which reporter to pick
This morning our Vicar found odd
Putin is the image of God!
That's such a strange pick
I think I'll be sick
Because someone shot the wrong wad!
I could be sick. I could be shy.
I could be outstanding. I could be high.
I could be low. I could be depleted.
One thing though, I am not defeated.
IF ITS cold be bold
do as you told
mabe you may look a mess
do so you won't regret
so won't be sick
do it quick
you will feel better
DRESS FOR
THE WEATHER
A poet once tried to rhyme “turmeric”:
he ate ten big jars, and then murmured “Ick!”
His taste buds murdered,
poor dear old Bernard
bolted up three flights of stairs to be sick.
Tongue Was Talking
Tongue was talking about a consulting firm,
Seeming to be sick spreading like a germ
How hard did try,
But overcome by;
Lies he told made him worm and squirm.
Jim Horn
“Stay away, I can’t afford to be sick.
Hand sanitizer please, and make it quick!
I can’t have the flu,”
I moaned as I puked -
“I’m out of Tylenol, Nyquil, and Vics!”
12/30/11
For "Sneezing Limerick" contest
How dare that flu bug touch me!
Doesn't it know I'm as busy as a bee?
I don't have time to be sick,
I must be up quick.
What do you mean, it's not up to me?
12/29/11 For Gwendolyn's "The Sneezing Limerick" contest.
Frustration builds,
Why can't they see...
They are the ones,
Slowly killing me...
Living in denial,
Just won't do...
I push forward,
Wishing for anew...
I didn't ask to be sick,
Yet this is it...
I wear a smile,
But feel like s*** ...
The measure…
The measure of a man is measured by a man with a stick
Though the man with the stick measuring the measure of a man be sick
So we now measure ourselves by the man who measures us in grace
So that one day when we see Him, He will measure Himself in our place.
I’m so concerned for Britney Spears;
She’s dancing to a Timberlake!
The “Toxic” singer’s shedding tears;
I’m shocked some people think they’re fake.
Danced “Holy Grail?” She must be sick;
She shows such pain on Instagram.
I’m not here for the nudie pics.
Here for you, Brit, I really am!
It snowed yesterday
the sidewalks are slick
Seems like an opportunity
for me to be sick
Stay home and ditch school
watch some TV
Catch up on sleep
with kitty next to me
But then in came the words
'Snowball fight!'
Out the door I flew, off to school
~ I know wrong from right!
My love, I'm addicted to your voice
It sounds through my ears to my heart
Breaking the walls I made
yet you are able to unlock.
My love, I can't live without hearing you
i would be sick from not being able to talk to you
I'd be so hurt even
If we did not speak for a day
My love, I'm addicted to you
Goodbye??
I cant help you
im dieing myself
you hurt me so much
i think im gonna be sick
i cant
deal with
your bull crap
did u think i wouldn't find out?
Babii i love u
i trusted u with my heart
i understand more than u think,
but im drowning
is this our final goodbye??
Form:
We are going insane
Because people
In general talks badly
About us
They say to us
That is not to be a Christian
We confront them
We were born a Christian
And we hope to die
As a Christian
Also they say that we are
A fanatic religious people
That is not true
We think they might be sick
When they talk badly about us
Now that I have Mono, I am told to rest
So I may write more, but it won't be best
Another month, they think I'll be sick
Hopefully healing will come quick
With words released in resting time
Whether free verse, another or rhyme,
It's not easy lengthy hours being still
But continuing to create, I will
Heidi Sands
7/28/22
THE CLOCK
Tick, Tick, Tick,Tick
You count my life away.
No room to be sick
So little to time to play.
Bodiless face and hands
Attract my every gaze.
And determine all my plans.
Cold, hard cogs and gears
Grind mercilessly onward
Marking time year after year.
Only forward never backward.
You march on and on
In the end I will be gone.
God is his title but Jehovah is his name.
When his son returns, people will no longer be sick and the animals will be tame.
Jehovah doesn't demand our respect but he does deserve it.
People praise him because they know that he's worth it.
By worshipping him, eternal life is what it will bring.
I love Jehovah because without him, I'd be nothing.
You masochistic silly girl.
Why give this dumb idea a whirl?
You must be sick with human pride.
To see how others feel inside.
It serves you right if you just cried.
Oh you sweet and wonderful girl.
Your love for Jesus makes my heart swirl.
May your love to us always abide.
Don't worry about what I said top side.
Rest asured, I truly lied.
As I abandon the world
of metaphysics,
i begin to be sick
and melancholic.
As I join the nature
as if it were a voice,
I sing with the birds,
a song of rejoice.
As I become unresponsive
to worldly desires
and decided to be one
who's willing to abide,
It killed me, you routine!
if I am to cling to something,
it is life,
not my welfare.
Mary Dee had a mad conviction
That she’d always have a weird affliction.
Six doctors said she would likely beat it,
Encyclopedia worries though promptly heat it.
She kept a perpetual sore throat for her entire life.
Remaining a perpetual mean and unhappy wife.
Mary Dee, determined to be sick and sad.
Sorriest aunt I ever had, mean sister to my dad.
Here are your choices I tell my boss.
I can fill out paperwork and ask for that Friday off
Or I can call you that morning and pretend to be sick.
Which do you prefer?
I prefer to know ahead of time, she replies.
Good choice I think.
I think it guarantees she will grant the request.
But I am wrong.
So I have to call in sick that morning.
We both laugh.
give me some fried chicken,
as greasy as grease can be;
with fried taters on the side,
who's worried about fat free?!
give me a breast of chicken,
cooked in gran'ma's lard;
make sure that bird's extra crusty,
'cause i like my chicken hard!
bring on the jalapenos,
so hot i can hardly speak;
now tell mama to call my job,
i'll be sick for at least a week!
The words flow in
They force all thought out
Then im left as hull
Hollow from the inside out
Nothing inside
except for broken dreams
Being crushed under the tide
were life is less than it seems
The point is gone
Reason has left
Is this realy pain
or is it for the best.
If hope is out there
I need you quick.
If its not though
the just leave me to be sick.
Form: