Cranky poetry for the daily prompt, by a sick person…
The Virus: part 1
Go ahead, wash your hands,
It’s too late…
Sucker!
The Virus: part II
Mountain of tissues,
In the can by the bed
Your nose is so raw,
A lovely shade, “wino red.”
The Visiting Virus: A Haiku
Take your aspirin
Drink your hot tea, don’t mind me
I’ll just hang out here
A bleak day, cold winter wind,
And a single cardinal on a nude black branch,
The only color in a washed out day,
Brilliant and vital
As a drop of blood.
(2/23)
Saw him again today,
Him or one just like him.
He saw me seeing him,
And he sang a little song,
Isn’t it strange that the day is
Wet and gray again?
Maybe he’s like me, and he
Likes it that way.(2/26)
* I wasn’t sure about publishing the initial poem…but then I saw him again today. I thought he’d fly away when i went in to get my camera, but he was still there. Regrettably, his vibrant color didn’t really come through in this pic.
alienredqueen 