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Big fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite them, and little fleas have lesser fleas, and so ad infinitum.
Cold
A cough and a hack--
On february 17,2006...! ! !
Gosh it made me--
Feel outright sick! ;
Tell ya-thought i was dyin'...! ! !
Had such a cough and a hack...
That i went 'willy-nilly' to the doctor...
And he diagnosed my attack;
When i arrived home...
There on my street awaiting me...
Were a dozen Red Roses...
Sent special to lil' ole me! ! ! ;
A cough and a hack...
Can be downright mean...! ! !
The virus can destroy...
And its totally unclean! ;
So theres a moral to this story...
IM sharin' with only a few...! ! !
Stay away from the COLD virus...
Cause the cough and hack will surely attack you! ;
The Essence
May 30,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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Fleas, lice
fleas, lice
the cat too
fleeing me
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fleas
My thoughts are like fleas,
Eternally skipping.
I try as I please
To prevent their slipping,
To probe them for more meant
Than my wit can utter;
But out of the torment
They quiver and flutter,
Dance, sparkle, and vanish
With insolent ease.
To hold or to banish
My thoughts are like fleas.
poem by Gamaliel Bradford
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(Lyric poems) Two countries In one country
Aha.You see not so you see
The answer for you peples is more
Mis-education and more mis-education
How can you mock our lack of education
And refuse to give us the skills and
The resources when you know that we live
In two countries in one country and the
Doors of education are barred to us who
Are illiterate in the less affluent part
Of society?
You are the rainsbows chuldren of God
You must be vote and be vote for us
For this thing of democrazy to flourish
Otherwise we mays confiscation your salries
Mmm? What will you does? Mi girls en boys?
You don't has the guns we has the tanks!
How can you talk down to us and threaten
To unleash the violence of the state on us?
How can you paint a picture of a happy nation
When the vast majority of us live in poverty
And squaller and the resources of the state
Is diverted to your criminal officials and
Their associate cronies? How can you peddle
The lie of democracy to us while you know that
You give us reconciliation without justice to
Douse our legitimate demand of social justice
In the flames of your dishonest rhetoric?
One can retired in peacefil blith now
Not knowing ifs there's nyequality betweens the races
Let me cough cough... cough cough...cough cough
You can sleeps unwell knowing there's
No crimenals to return nicely your properdies...
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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They Rode My Back Like Hungry Fleas
The teachers I initially had,
Earlier in my developing life...
I despised.
Yes.
I thought them to be insensitive and mean.
And I held onto that belief,
With thoughts they were purposely picking on me.
And it took me years to realize their critiques,
Were from expectations they wanted me to reach.
They knew inside me I can and could do better.
They knew inside me an opportunity,
I did not then see.
But a pushing with their efforts increased my abilities.
The teachers I initially had,
Earlier in my developing life...
I despised.
Yes.
I thought them to be insensitive and mean.
And I held onto that belief,
With thoughts they were purposely picking on me.
Just to ride on my back like a pack of hungry fleas.
'Mister Pertillar?
I've read your essay...
'They Rode My Back Like A Pack Of Hungry Roaches'.
Change 'roaches' to 'fleas'.
Fleas are blood suckers.'
But...
My essay is about teachers I hate.
'I hate roaches too!
However...
If you accept my recommendation,
You will eventually come to realize...
The usage of 'fleas' will have a uniqueness.
And a far better bite.
I suggest...
'They Rode My Back Like Hungry Fleas''
There is no pleasing 'you' people,
Is it?
'Excuse me?
What did you say? '
They Rode My Back Like Hungry Fleas.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Our Pet's Pets
Suddenly our old cat's a spring chicken,
He's leaping about like a kitten,
It seems much more frequent,
The need for some treatment,
The fleas make him jump when he's bitten.
I'm a flea on the back of your cat,
And I'm not very happy with that,
I know I'm not blameless,
But don't make me homeless,
I don't earn enough for a flat.
Well I am the cat in the question,
Trying to make an impression,
There's no bed and breakfast,
For fleas that are downcast,
Regardless that there's a recession.
Coughing Woman
So what so the woman
Had a bad cough and they
Let her into the cinema to
Watch a film and there she
Was cough cough right through
The movie and it kind of echoed
And at times became the focus
Of attention and the odd person
Said Hey can’t you control that
Coughing? And she coughed in
Reply and the guy next to her
Moved and the dame behind
Tapped her on the shoulder and
Said Oughtn’t you to be in bed
With medication? And the movie
Rolled on and the people watched
Or moaned or did both and then
Towards the end of the film she
Stood up and slowly walking by
The people in the row and said
Sorry sorry and they muttered
Things and whispered words and
Finally she got out in the daylight
And beneath a bright sun and her
Coughing continued as it had begun.
poem by Terry Collett
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Rondeau
Fleas, stink, pigs, mold,
The gist of the Bohemian soul,
Bread and salted fish and cold.
Leeks, and cabbage three days old,
Smoked meat, as hard and black as coal;
Fleas, stink, pigs, mold.
Twenty eating from one bowl,
A bitter drink -it's beer, I'm told-
Bad sleep on a straw in some filthy hole,
Fleas, stink, pigs, mold,
The gist of the Bohemian soul,
Bread and salted fish and cold.
poem by Eustache Deschamps
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Cough Cough Oops
yesterday accidental deletion shocking wrote
'Salt Tears Arch Into Rainbow Bridges'
was buzzing in creative electric mind spaces
then distraction unbelievable cough cough oops
accidentally deleted next six drafts no other copies
next was really good who pulled plug I pitiful mug
poem by Terence George Craddock
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One Of Nature's Life Forms
Like most living life forms we harbour disease
And we play host to mites and we play host to fleas
And our germs search for hosts in the freshening breeze
That we give to the air when we cough or we sneeze
Since to Nature's laws most of us never comply
The word arrogant to us surely must apply
We pray to our invisible Gods in the skies
But that we are one of Nature's life forms we fail to realize
In our search for Nature's resources when we dig up her ground
New once dormant diseases we do spread around
We may think we own Nature but we have got it wrong
Since of her we were born and to her we belong
And like all of Nature's life forms we are born to die
That is a fact of life and facts never lie.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Under The Weather
Along the streets, my leaden feet plod:
In my mind, this all feels quite odd.
Usually, when walking, I keep a good pace,
But, at the moment, this is not the case.
When I cough, my chest gives a rattle.
Just to keep going, feels like a battle.
Walking along a road that's all uphill,
Is a real struggle, and takes all of my will.
I seem to have lost my ‘get up and go.'
My pace at the moment is painfully slow.
My nose is all flaky, and has gone red.
Now, when I cough, it hurts my head.
I don't really feel like a lot to eat.
I prefer sitting down to rest my feet.
My soul within, feels quite deflated.
At my slow pace, I feel quite frustrated.
I cough so much that my ribs are sore.
Having a cold has become a real bore.
From me, some folk are now steering clear:
In case of infection, they won't come near.
Chances are that my cough will hang on:
I will be so relieved when it has gone.
My nose keeps running, just like a tap.
My inner strength, my cold has sapped.
Having a cold, I find just so annoying:
With my patience, this cold is toying.
I can't wait to be back to my old self:
Feeling happy, and back to good health.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Cooked Meat
When rice and milk and oranges and white icing
Do their best to make you happy;
I speak to you a moment for the luxury,
I snuggled into the armchair.
I stood up in it as a child of the room,
A kind of food yielded as a happy heap.
I saw that the cook had lost her situation,
The snatched meat would suffice as humans could.
“I wish, ” she said suddenly, “ we were on a sunny shore,
Where there can’t be any whooping-cough.”
I can see food for all those in this room,
And there is no cough waiting.
poem by Naveed Akram
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To A Love Poem You Twitch Your Face
This time,
As a critique of a love poem you
Read my lines and twitch your face
You cannot believe
What I write
that I for once was true
That I can now be true to you
For once I make this plea
Dust off the fleas
Of sin and prejudice
It is me, I once loved you,
And you knew
It was true but you never believed it,
it is me now, ready to love you again
My love,
Love changes everything
And that does not exclude me,
Do stamp your feet now
Crush all those fleas
And do not twitch your face,
hear me, strike me, i deserve
the punishment
having left you
long time ago
This is me
Ready to love you again, this is my plea.
please listen, spare, speak to me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The sound of poverty in my country
Whooping cough
From morning till night
There are only herbs
Some leaves of grass
Soaked in water
Inside a tin cup
That is prescribed to be taken
as Medicine
The sound is reverberating
Throughout the town
And no one seems to mind
What to do about it
It cannot be stopped
The people simply wait
For another wailing sound
Someone bedridden
Just passed away
Another cough is on the way
Today and it will be
From morning till night
And as usual the people just wait
There is nothing that can be done about it
as the sounds of poverty reverberate
throughout the country with nothing but faith
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Red Death At 6'14 (disc)
[I'll buy it out there
got a cop down at
6:14, 6:14?]
la la la la la la la la la la la la
la la la la la la
whoo!
what's that she said
what's that she said
what's that she said
with her fingers turning blue
and her face was turning red
whoo!
was that her dad
was that her dad
was that her dad
with the magic marker
writing little angel on her head
la la la la la la la la la la la la
la la la la la la la la la la la la
whoo!
she must be dead
well she must be dead
she must be dead
if the only sound I hear
are the devils by her bed
oh
oh well
[cough
cough]
whoo!
what's that she said
what's that she said
what's that she said
with her fingers turning blue
and her face was turning red
la la la la la laThe White Stripes Lyrics Index
song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Small Wire
My faith
is a great weight
hung on a small wire,
as doth the spider
hang her baby on a thin web,
as doth the vine,
twiggy and wooden,
hold up grapes
like eyeballs,
as many angels
dance on the head of a pin.
God does not need
too much wire to keep Him there,
just a thin vein,
with blood pushing back and forth in it,
and some love.
As it has been said:
Love and a cough
cannot be concealed.
Even a small cough.
Even a small love.
So if you have only a thin wire,
God does not mind.
He will enter your hands
as easily as ten cents used to
bring forth a Coke.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Little Toy Soldier
Once upon a time there was a toy soldier and he lived in the play room
Once upon a time there was a toy soldier with a whip lash in his hand
And every night little girl sadie would take all her clothes off and wind up the toy soldier and he raised his whip and said
On your knees little sadie
Little sadie on your knees
Taste the whip and love might given likely
Taste the whip and bleed for me
Little sadie loved her little toy soldier
And she run home from school each day
Little sadie loved her little toy soldier
And she locked her door so she could play
Little sadie got ambitious
And wound the clockworks so to tighter
So he could whip her harder and harder
On your knees little sadie
Little sadie on your knees
Taste the whip and love might given likely
Taste the whip and bleed for me
One day sadie wound and wound
And wound and wound
And wound and wound
Til suddenly the little toy soldier spring, went. . .
(ugly, beat her to death)
Ahhhh
Cough, cough, cough
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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