Wheezed Poems | Examples

Chill Breeze

    chill breeze
       Ron sneezed

     deep freeze
       he wheezed

     stung knees
       cried, please ...

     death’s tease
        ~ disease

Altruistic Blues and Whites

As the wind cascades out in a frenzy motion 
Nephophilia, a thudder crave 
Exclamation is a sudden urge 
Since soft cotton candies switches to pastels and iridescents 
Looking up close 
Still immeasurably far 

The old regime of sunrise and sunsets finna come up to horizon 
where moons and suns collide 
stars surrounding them
blues and whites around them 
casting shadow of white daisies 
So small and wrecked
spurting a yelp of joy, when a cold breeze wheezed out 

In blues and whites 
they gleam 
As a boon to the demure daisies 
It is eternal 
Feverishly eternal 

When they run about in adorbs 
It is mushiness and sweetness scattered all over in the morn 

This is where I am, in this season 
the season to hold upon these clouds 
to hold as tight as it gotta be 

This season is everlasting 
this season to swim the length of the sky 

Just for the blues and whites 
Just for the blues and whites...

Gladys the Welcome Wizard Lady is Here

Miss Gladys the Welcome Wizard lady is here
She is full of sass, beyond an insane level of cheer
No one wants to let her in, we try to ignore the bell
She climbs in the front window, demolishing the sill.

Hi we say, faking a smile, pretending to be pleased.
She retains weird enthusiasm, her pitch a little wheezed.
We are yawning through her brochure-filled presentation
She feigns happiness, another welcome wizard celebration.

She gets paid for every family whom she annoys
On the way out, she stubs her toe on one of baby’s toys
We did not apologize, maybe this is why she is suing
But judge, we argue candidly, her getting in was not our doing.

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

The Zenith

Written: October 17, 2023
            ____________________________

breeze of zeal wheezed
the zephyr sings through the trees~
insight reach zenith

Leaky Zen

He lay watching the ceiling
falling upwards.
"Meditation" he thought,
"where does the mind go
when it leaves its fishbowl?"

Questions,
one after another –

Where the inflatable Santa?
Where the rescue center?
Where the House of the Lord?

"Shadow play" he thought,
"I'm just playing with shadows."

Then Santa took a BB bullet;
his last thoughts wheezed out
from a small mouth-shaped hole:

All rescue centers are adopted
by homeless prayers.

In the House of the Lord
words rent rooms.

The moon does not miss its own light.
Water has no memory.

The fish in his bowl kept on circling.

Santa Takes a Fall

''Ho ho ho' wheezed old Santa Claus
Wrapping around his head with gauze
He filled up with whisky 
Took behaviour risky 
And then fell foul of drinking laws  


16th December 2022 
Poetry soup syllable counter

Leave It Out Judge

The judge told the man, “You’re accused
By all of those that you abused.
You’re too touchy feely,
You touch and feel freely
And all of them feel they’ve been used.”

The man cleared his throat, then he spoke
But all that came out was a croak
He coughed and he spluttered
But nothing got muttered
It sounded as though he might choke

The judge said, “Are there mitigations
For your regular deviations
For touching two teachers
And one or two preachers
And, with my wife, having relations?”

The man cleared his throat once again
His voice cackled like an old hen
He just couldn’t speak
It could take a week
His lawyer requested a pen

The judge said, “It only gets worse,
You fondled a man in a hearse
It’s really quite shoddy
To grope a dead body
To decency you are a curse.”

The man tried to write a quick note
He coughed and he wheezed as he wrote 
He struggled for breath
Like he was near death
Or had a bullfrog in his throat 

The judge said, “Speak up at the double
You sound like you’ve gargled with rubble
As a means to an end
Suck a Fisherman’s Friend.”
The man said,,, “I’M IN ENOUGH TROUBLE!”

Sleepless

A raw quiet
stretches like a membrane
across the night.
Pulled tight it waits to amplify
the slightest sound.
Each passing minute dials up
the volume of a nerve
strung to snare
the powdery whispers of a moth
or the faint ticking wheezed
out of an old wristwatch
kept beside the bed.
Others sneak the outskirts,
undeciphered, just out of reach
of being named.

Then in time
thoughts take over
and chatter in an aimless
dialogue of the brain.
The past is replayed
again and again
in regrets or unhealed shame
or bent to shape
itself another way as if
a choice was had
to change what happened
into what should have been.
Or the mind stammers, afraid,
paused on the lip
of what's to come,
a dull dread
of something unshaped
palling over the days ahead,
or plucks some planned event
for it to fill
with imagined pleasure
of what might be.

A distant siren
tunnels the dark
with its urgent wail
then thins to silence.
Unease lingers in its wake
and slowly tightens
until all distills 
to just the sound
of a muffled pulse
beating in the chambers
of an ear.
One day it will stop.

The Red Letter

There are many kinds of wars some make you die some make you cry 
when your far away suffused in gunpowder, you learn to live and lie 

A red letter day arrived, their baby was born blue, cold and stillborn
he sat in the bunker away from atomic blasts grief soaked and forlorn

Jim walked in and released his gunny sack " dam the war " what you got 
stoic and in shock he wheezed, coughed took a drag of cigarette, wot?

There are many kinds of wars, some make you die some make you cry 
today was not a day for tears, with a mendacious smile he prayed to die .


July 20, 2022
Sponsor	Faraz Ajmal
Contest Name	Tears of a Valiant Soldier

Anita and My Antique

I watched as she dusted and sneezed;
'It's worthless, I'm certain,' she wheezed.
I thought I'd be rich -
oh, life is a b.tch!
(My desk got a clean, so I'm pleased...)

written 26th April for Joseph's contest - about Anita Manning from The Antique Roadshow

Once Tall and Stately

The tree was wracked with age, disease
  her branches missing bark and leaves
Chill rains attacked -- it coughed, it wheezed
  Resistance gone, what good to grieve

Once tall and stately, proud to be
  the loveliest of maple trees
Her sap flowed rich throughout the Fall
  Delicious treat for one and all

So sad to see a landmark die
  Enough to make a grown man cry



     ~ Iambic Tetrameter ~

A Throat Condition

It was as if a dead man had a hold of my throat.
Each of his fingers (he had but one hand),
was a bone handled butter knife
dull, 
but together they clamped my breath like a vice.

"We’ve got to get you in ASAP,
You’re going to choke to death."

Death loosened its grip on me
as if hearing its name said out loud.

The Doctors office jumped sideways into 
an erratic twilight zone, inflating and deflating 
as I sat in a bleary bubble of shock.
Death squeezed harder
until I wheezed like a broken accordion.	

"Look!"

I looked at the X-Ray, my larynx, and around it
woody vines, fibrous ropes clutching
a narrowing breathing tube. A Gordon’s knot.
I told the surgeon about the knot.

He nodded gravely and said,
"It wants to strangle you."

Is there a name for this condition?

"Yes, we call it: 
‘Dead Man Strangling Syndrome,’
surgery is the only answer,
delicate, difficult, decidedly unconventional surgery,
that’s the only way forward.
First we need butter, lots of it, and an exorcist.
Are you a Catholic?"

Yes I was born in original sin
and a spreading guilt.

"Excellent" he said, rubbing his hands together,
"then we may have a chance."

Action Girl, Part Ii

...When the day came folks fathered in the gym,
twas an ‘empowering day,’ they all said,
When the bell rang Jana flurried with kicks,
she was invigorated, seeing red.

But every kick seemed to just bounce off Rick,
he barely flinched when hit hard in the face,
hadn’t thrown a punch, just stood there waiting
as Jana went about the martial race.

As the first round went, her confidence grew,
and she began to come inside more and more,
then a body-blow caved in her stomach
and Jana collapsed, gasping, to the floor.

There was no point in counting down from ten,
it would be minutes before she got up,
the crowd went silent, Rick just sighed at them,
as the poor girl wheezed hard, then threw up.

Said Rick,”I hope today you have come to see
why there has long been an understanding
for thousands of years, that man and woman
really should not be physically fighting!”

And then he walked off to a throng of “boo”
from those who so wished she had beat the man,
ideology said they must be the same,
but reality just don’t give a damn.

On

...and the warnings rang strong
...and the cauldron wheezed
...and the magma lapped at strapping branches,
genetically equipped, with a passion,
for protecting the bulb
...and the poet rhymed on

...and the emperor, Nero, has resurfaced
...and the swinging, singing, stinging swarm 
cycled back

...and the funk of it reached fecal proportions,
surpassing sweetness of rotting racoons
on the roadside 
...and the poet rhymed on.

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