Saturday, March 5, 2011

I have the Flu. Boo

The flu it makes me weak and bleary
My chest is tight, I'm far from cheery

I'm supposed to be writing the next big thing
But my head is just pounding, ring a ding, ding

My honey brings me juice, water, and tea
But won't come any closer than two feet or three

The doctor says "too late for Tami-Flu
Just lay in your bed and cry, boo-hoo"

"But my word count!" I cry as I sniffle and snort
"It's March Madness, and I'll have nothing to report."

"Get over it," say the teenagers disgusted by chores
"You need to get better and make us s'mores."

"I'm trying" I sniffle and cry some hot tears.
"Do you think a donut would help? Or maybe some beers?"

Nope, it's nothing but vitamins and healthy stuff for you.
If you'd just washed your damn hands you'd have no darn flu.


  1. Gee, your poetry is better than my attempts ... even when you're sick.

  2. I would write naughty limericks for all my friends in college - my version of gangsta rap!


Hey, do you ever wonder why they call it 'your two cents?'