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MEDIC!
I'm at the whiny stage of the cold now. It's like the 5 stages of grief only with a bucketful of phlegm in my head.

Denial: What's that? a tickle in the back of my throat? It's nothing. I am not getting sick. No matter that 2 of my colleagues have been swarming with germs in and out of my office, I WILL NOT GET SICK.

Anger: Stupid %$#^%@! coworkers and their stupid $^#&$*!~ germs!!

Bargaining: If I pop 2 Tylenol now, I'll be fine, I'm sure. I'll just go to sleep a little earlier, and do my walk tomorrow. Yeah.

Depression: I hab a code id by node ad by froat hurtz ad by node is all red ad nobody loves bee I thig I'll go ead worms. wwwaaah!

Acceptance: My voice is SO SEXY!

Bonus Stage
Irony: I went to work today. Now I'm the germy coworker! muahahahaha!

Hey pretty internets, tell me more poetry, that will make me feel better.

Edited to add: Pretty please?
 sick
mood: sick
music: there is no music, there is only phlegm in the head


Comments
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I'd better upgrade my anti-virus software, I don't want to catch your cold... ;-)

Hahahaha!!! That's a good one. :)

Laughing my butt off because ever since I got home from work today Björn has been going around coughing and sneezing and saying, "I'm NOT sick. I feel FINE. I'm NOT getting a cold of any kind whatsoever! ATCHOOOO!!"

Hope you feel well enough to come on Wednesday night! (Hope you feel perfectly find right away as a matter of fact.)

My poetry choices are kind of dopey, so I'll leave that to the literature majors.

You know, this is the cold that YOU should have gotten with the full-on face sneeze.

And I bet your poetry choices are not at all dopey, so c'mon, share!

poem

a little something something I wrote when I was 16,...
um,...many many eons ago
: )
please excuse the 'cheese factor' - I was 16 and in luv (groan)




Did you ever love somebody,
but never let them know?
Did you ever feel like crying,
but never let it show.
Did you ever see them dancing,
with the lights way down low?
And whisper “God I love him”
but never let them know.
Did you ever look into their eyes
and say a little prayer?
Did you ever look into their heart,
and wish that you were there?
Don’t fall in love my friend,
you’ll find it doesn’t pay.
It only causes heartache,
it happens everyday.
And when it does you won’t know why,
you’ll wonder night and day.
Thinking that you’re loosing them,
the price is hard to pay.
If I could choose between life or death,
I think I’d rather die.
Don’t fall in love my friend.
Don’t even wonder why.
Don’t fall in love my friend,
you’ll be hurt before it’s through.
You see my friend I ought to know
I fell in love with you.

Re: poem

Cheese, schmeese, that was great!

*chuckles*

Ok, now for your poem:

Headache
- Shel Silverstein

Having a tree growing up out of me
Is often a worrisome thing.
I'm twisty and throny and branchy and bare
But wait till you see me in Spring.

Perfect!!

This one is a longie--I haven't read much by Neil Gaiman but I really like his style. I yanked this from Spiderwords.com--he's the featured poet there this month...


The Day the Saucers Came
by Neil Gaiman

That day, the saucers landed. Hundreds of them, golden,
Silent, coming down from the sky like great snowflakes,
And the people of Earth stood and stared as they descended,
Waiting, dry-mouthed to find what waited inside for us
And none of us knowing if we would be here tomorrow
But you didn't notice it because

That day, the day the saucers came, by some coincidence,
Was the day that the graves gave up their dead
And the zombies pushed up through soft earth
or erupted, shambling and dull-eyed, unstoppable,
Came towards us, the living, and we screamed and ran,
But you did not notice this because

On the saucer day, which was the zombie day, it was
Ragnarok also, and the television screens showed us
A ship built of dead-man's nails, a serpent, a wolf,
All bigger than the mind could hold, and the cameraman could
Not get far enough away, and then the Gods came out
But you did not see them coming because

On the saucer-zombie-battling gods day the floodgates broke
And each of us was engulfed by genies and sprites
Offering us wishes and wonders and eternities
And charm and cleverness and true brave hearts and pots of gold
While giants feefofummed across the land, and killer bees,
But you had no idea of any of this because

That day, the saucer day the zombie day
The Ragnarok and fairies day, the day the great winds came
And snows, and the cities turned to crystal, the day
All plants died, plastics dissolved, the day the
Computers turned, the screens telling us we would obey, the day
Angels, drunk and muddled, stumbled from the bars,
And all the bells of London were sounded, the day
Animals spoke to us in Assyrian, the Yeti day,
The fluttering capes and arrival of the Time Machine day,
You didn't notice any of this because
you were sitting in your room, not doing anything
not even reading, not really, just
looking at your telephone,
wondering if I was going to call.


*bows before the Neil, and you, for sharing that with me*

A fellow writer who knows that I'm not much for writing poetry (and often not one for appreciating it as well as I should) asked me why. I explained that I liked poetry that hit me hard, and suddenly. I wasn't fond of Robert Frost-style poems that I had to think about and decipher, and all the poetry classes I'd ever taken were all about analysis, and alliteration, and assonance, and eventually all the fun of poetry was sucked out of it.

She pointed out that this meant I was much more interested in "improv poetry" -- written on the spur of the moment, with no planning, and, to paraphrase Anne Lamott: leave it lay where Jesus flang it.

So here's my first attempt at poetry in probably at least two or three years. I have no idea what I'm about to write.


It only takes a pass
A quick brush
The barest movement of air
My chest seizes for the space of two footsteps
You assault me without moving
Your face behind your cigarette smoke and deliberate lips
BACK THE HELL UP
BACK THE HELL UP
BACK THE HELL UP
BACK THE HELL UP
BACK THE HELL UP
And I move my way past
You and your car-alarm eyes

*stunned*

You wrote that just now with no preparation?! That was fabulous.

See what a threat of sending my patented Vegemite Cold Cure will do for you?

My poem dedicated to Liz..

When she walks into the room,
everybody turns:

some kind of light is coming from her head.
Even the geraniums look curious...
We're all attracted to the perfume
of fermenting joy,

we've all tried to start a fire,
and one day maybe it will blaze up on its own.
In the meantime, she is the one today among us
most able to bear the idea of her own beauty,
and when we see it, what we do is natural:
we take our burned hands
out of our pockets,
and clap.

-Tony Hoagland

(no subject) - (Anonymous)   Expand  

Mother to Son
by Langston Hughes

Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor --
Bare.
But all the time
I'se been a-climbin' on,
And reachin' landins,
And turnin' corners,
And sometimes goin' in the dark
Where there ain't been no light.
So boy, don't you turn back.
Don't you set down on the steps
'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.
Don't you fall now --
For I'se still goin', honey,
I'se still climbin',
And life for me ain't been no crystal stair.

Great advice and great poem :)

Common Cold

Go hang yourself, you old M.D.!
You shall not sneer at me.
Pick up your hat and stethoscope,
Go wash your mouth with laundry soap;
I contemplate a joy exquisite
I'm not paying you for your visit.
I did not call you to be told
My malady is a common cold.

By pounding brow and swollen lip;
By fever's hot and scaly grip;
By those two red redundant eyes
That weep like woeful April skies;
By racking snuffle, snort, and sniff;
By handkerchief after handkerchief;
This cold you wave away as naught
Is the damnedest cold man ever caught!

Give ear, you scientific fossil!
Here is the genuine Cold Colossal;
The Cold of which researchers dream,
The Perfect Cold, the Cold Supreme.
This honored system humbly holds
The Super-cold to end all colds;
The Cold Crusading for Democracy;
The Führer of the Streptococcracy.

Bacilli swarm within my portals
Such as were ne'er conceived by mortals,
But bred by scientists wise and hoary
In some Olympic laboratory;
Bacteria as large as mice,
With feet of fire and heads of ice
Who never interrupt for slumber
Their stamping elephantine rumba.

A common cold, gadzooks, forsooth!
Ah, yes. And Lincoln was jostled by Booth;
Don Juan was a budding gallant,
And Shakespeare's plays show signs of talent;
The Arctic winter is fairly coolish,
And your diagnosis is fairly foolish.
Oh what a derision history holds
For the man who belittled the Cold of Colds!

Ogden Nash

*applauds* Ogden was a genius!

I'm no poet, but here's me Ode to Liz: (ahem!)


Get beddar soon
so proclaims this loon
who's flying to the moon
with a song at noon.
There's no more room
for sneezes that go Boom!



ok... the oon/m's could just go on forever, so thus ends my foray into poetry.

No prizes for guessing why I never went there in the first place. heh.

LOL! It just takes practice :D

It's like the 5 stages of grief only with a bucketful of phlegm in my head.

Denial: What's that? a tickle in the back of my throat? It's nothing. I am not getting sick. No matter that 2 of my colleagues have been swarming with germs in and out of my office, I WILL NOT GET SICK.

Anger: Stupid %$#^%@! coworkers and their stupid $^#&$*!~ germs!!

Bargaining: If I pop 2 Tylenol now, I'll be fine, I'm sure. I'll just go to sleep a little earlier, and do my walk tomorrow. Yeah.

Depression: I hab a code id by node ad by froat hurtz ad by node is all red ad nobody loves bee I thig I'll go ead worms. wwwaaah!

Acceptance: My voice is SO SEXY!



Oh DAMN this is good.

Thanks for the big smile.

Seussian cold medicine



I do not like my cold
I do not
I do not like the lakes of snot

I do not like my cold
I do not
I do not like my itchy throat

I do not like my cold
I do not
I do not like my joints so hot

but wait
my voice
husky and deep
sexy plus
oh you I seek!!!

stay with me
a few days longer
after this cold I do not like
is no longer.

(no subject) - (Anonymous)

LOL! *blows germ-infested kisses at you*

Okay, despite my little love for poetry, this is one that was in my English lit. book in 9th grade, and I copied it out and saved it, and translated it into French for practice, and it's never gone away. It's cheesy, though, so I never mention it in public. Good thing you don't actually know me. :)

Barter (Sarah Teasdale)

Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
Soaring fire that sways and sings,
And children's faces looking up
Holding wonder like a cup.

Life has loveliness to sell,
Music like a curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,
Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit's still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.

Spend all you have for loveliness,
Buy it and never count the cost;
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstasy
Give all you have been, or could be.

I got chills reading that. It's not cheesy at all. Thank you for sharing it.

(Anonymous)

You asked for it.

MORAINE
—inspired by Robert Stewart
by Dana Lynn Martin

I
More than
40 years ago,
just after Korea,
my father came
with his bride

to the planed feet
of these mountains,
showed her this scar
on the world; palm
of a cupped hand.

I stare at this night,
see things as they
ought to be: our tent
a block of ice, Father’s
words solid in the air.


II
We are pitched
in the middle
of a snow field.
I creep across rain-
soaked skins of rocks.

I’m sitting in the basin
of a glacier where
ages ago pack ice melted.
Rain repeats itself
in concert with ancestors.

This moraine
maps the past.
These elk ice skate
their way back
on cloven hooves.

An ice sculpture
ambles near, moves
leeward, antlers
etch sky’s
final light.

~sprigs

I DID ask for it, and MAN, did I ever get it! Just what I wanted. That was beautiful.

Get better real soon.

Resist
by Neil Peart

I can learn to resist
Anything but temptation
I can learn to co-exist
With anything but pain
I can learn to compromise
Anything but my desires
I can learn to get along
With all the things I can't explain
I can learn to resist
Anything but frustration
I can learn to persist
With anything but aiming low
I can learn to close my eyes
To anything but injustice
I can learn to get along
With all the things I don't know
You can surrender
Without a prayer
But never really pray
Pray without surrender
You can fight
Without ever winning
But never ever win
Without a fight
I can learn to resist
Anything but temptation
I can learn to co-exist
With anything but pain
I can learn to compromise
Anything but my desires
I can learn to get along
With all the things I can't explain

Re: Get better real soon.

Did you know Rush was the first band I ever saw in concert? :)

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