Fever

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fever

 

 

Like a bullet shot out of a gun

His body propels against the back of the chair

He moans in a broken parched tone

Reaching for the tissue box on the table

 

"Some sickness going around, eh?" you ask sympathetically.

 

"Indeed." he replies after a sniff.

 

Even when your faith is strong

in your immunity guardians

Your armor is gradually penetrated

 

It slinks through in the night

Like Ali Baba and his forty thieves

 

The pain alert initiates inside out

You feel your bones aching as you shift

 

Your throat prickles from coughing too much

And an invisible flame is amplified under your skin

 

You can hear yourself snoring since

The wicked germ has wrecked your nostril passage

Licking your fractured pastel lips recurrently

 

Your feet jerking after every

weird flash or crazy dream

 

Sitting up then balancing on your feet is torture

And walking all the way to the washroom

Or to the breakfast table

Is a draining journey…damn!

 

Sunlight is such a stingy intruder

To the bland eyes

And every sound and voice

Is upsetting to the ears

 

A glass of water is not

Satisfying anymore

Luke-warm or even cold

 

Antibiotics and pain-killers

Take turns on that tray

Lemonade, hot tea

And a cup of Laban too

 

The normally obnoxious little sisters

Or brothers volunteering

To be friendly and helpful

For a day or just until evening

 

A gasp and a whine

Vibrate agitating your voice cords

As a cold saturated cloth

Settles on your forehead

 

Your uptight pain-in-the a*s of a father

Takes pity on you, helps bring in the chicken soup

Forgetting yesterday's stupid fight

 

You feel painfully cold throughout the night

Even though your skin is on fire

a battle of metal and chemicals

Takes place inside of you

You can't hear the soldiers hollering or their

Clatter of swords and flesh

But you can feel your body shuddering

From the intensity of the battlefield

The blood of those who sacrificed

To keep you intact seeps out

As a shadow of sweat

 

And as you awaken to witness the sunrise

And the newly hatched, shells

On the tree branch by your window

The victory is concluded.

 

Author's Note

*NOTE: Laban: liquid yogurt. Usually served cold.

*Image by ~wasielewski

Link: http://wasielewski.deviantart.com/art/Fever-Exultation-28941363?q=boost%3Apopular+fever&qo=13

Comments, reviews, and corrections are appreciated.

Reviews

[Miss Coral]

Nice write- there were a couple of phrases that bothered me though:

"No matter how hard you believe
You eat healthy enough
Your armor is tactfully punctured"

and the word "contents" in
"Even though your contents are actually on fire"



Otherwise, very nice job. Personally, I get sick a lot in Prague because I'm used to colds from the US. I never get sick in CA, but I'm almost always sick here. :/
Anywho- great piece. Love the conclusion. :)

-Coral-

[momo]

very good! well written given the fact its such a simple subject and yet the worse it gets the more complicated it gets youve done well in capturing that situation very nice!

[Marie Harrison]

Wow, awesome poem about having a cold. This is brilliant. We all can relate to this poem too. What a battle we fight too! I felt like I was having a cold with you.. That's exactly what it feels like too. I'm a total b***h when I have a cold too! Stay away then! Ha! 100/100 for this one!

[.]

wonderful write, weird what the flu well do to us. Well writ!

[Courtland Sky]

i am speechless. your poem was absolutely breathtaking. you are awesome.!

[Jas Alejandrino Ramos]

nice contradictory description and storytelling on this poem.....

[Wondering Mind]

Amazing what the flu does to us, but she's never been a muse for such poetic expression. Well done my friend, and I hope you're feeling better.

[Coyote Poetry]

Wow is my opinions of this poem. I like this description of being sick. I like the detail of the world around you. I had to read the poem a few times. A amazing poem. Thank you.
Coyote

[Blossom]

I like this. very well written

[My Fair Lady]

Nicely Done Wella. Being sick is no fun.