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Author Name: Freeoldguy 3 Comments
Date Added: March 16, 2010 07:03:57 Average Score: (Needs 2)
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Type: Unspecified
Category: Humor Add To Favorites | Text Only

My nothe ith stuffed.

My eyeth do buwn.

I cough white crap to bweathe.

My tear ducths weep.

I can not thleep.

I wish this thpwring would leave.

The pollenth’s high.

My twuck ith yellow.

I think thpwring’s here in vain.

The floweth bloom.

My tongue ith fat.

Dear God, where is Thy rain?

Author's Notes:

1:32 AM Saturday morning spring is officially here.
With all the pollen in the air, I know why I burn wood in the winter.
I'm doing my part to hold the pollen down
and now the trees are getting even.
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'Allergies' Copyright © e. Gene Myers
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Comment By: PremiumHOPE on March 16, 2010 10:07:38 PM Report
I feel for you.  You poem is wonderful and  Ican image you dripping and sneezing as you write this cute poem.

Comment By: FreeAndrew on March 16, 2010 10:29:44 AM Report
oh man, do i feel your pain!  i guess it goes to show ya that no matter what the weather, we want some change.  first we want no more snow, and now here comes the pollen - i personally look forward to my black car turning yellow (NOT).  great work, gene
Comment By: FreeLady Dragonwyck on March 16, 2010 07:31:53 AM Report
Gene:  oh my --- the problems of allergies and being an outdoor person.  


Lady D


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