I lay in my bed
Flat on my back
Sick with the flu
That people
Used to call
Deadly
Until that theory
Fell flat.
To pass delirious hours
Waiting this miserableness out
Trying not to croak
I watch that tree
That sturdy healthy oak
That falling tree
Leaning
Now seemingly leaning,
Leaning more
Toward my neighbor’s house
Falling. Leeeening, Falling.
It seems like an eternity
My flu feeling
And that falling tree
Deliriously it bends more
Seemingly exceeding slow,
Fever staring, it seems
It’s bent more
Bowing toward the ground
Giving into demise
Oh tree
Companion to me
As I weaken
Don’t give up, you
Rise up!
It’s Suddenly Easter.
I‘ve boringly been lying here watching for a holiday
Or two.
Inch by longest inch
Creeping weeping
Leaning Falling
Tree
My lovely tree
Will you fall
Before me??
Author’s Note: Did the tree fall? Did my neighbor survive the fall? Delirium is oft accompanied by frightening unreal, seemingly real hallucinations. Ever wonder why fever hallucinates? The tree moved when it didn’t. My mind moved around it, no wind stir to be found. The fevered mind plays tricks on the sick, then it doesn’t. Sick profusive sweat, knells the cure. Blissful sleep surrounds my illness with exhausted twisted haunted dreams. Only to awaken someplace else, fever cured, now at home. Where was I? Can I get an amen.
As I wrote half blinded by one of those fascinating ocular migraine syndromes, the poetic scene became strangely animated, in this case entertaining the not sick writer - thus the jagged line structure and wavy missedspellings.
tom tenbrunsel
Perfusive Poet Laureate
Poems are written from the poet’s mind’s eye, with the poet’s intention. Is there interpretation beyond that? No. But poetry frees the mind of the reader to roam. I like that, because poetry is intended to stir the reader’s consciousness, thus a read poem never ends. Below is a comment from my friend Mickey Sharp on todays poem (Thank you Mickey for taking the time to comment.
People, “Feedback fuels the poet!”
“I have had, and survived, the FLU, perhaps more than once. However, your poem led me to recall the time when I was in the service. One of my military institute classmates, who lived in our BOQ, became ill with the FLU and within 5 days…