A snotty young feller called Viper - A flu-addled, windshieldless wiper - Thought he'd landed in hell or Was just like Vaniller: A Philistine wearing a diaper.
Ha-ha! Vanilla has haiku dyslexia!
I always thought the flu was more a limerick-type disease.
How shall I soothe thee? Let me tell the ways; No breadth of miles shall stand between us now. For I have suffered ere these past few days With that which does defeat both me and thou. The head does hurt, the nose it does to run; The only solace lies in quiet bed; The body hurts, the eyes avoid the sun The day is greeted with a lurking dread. But do not fear, my friend, for life is here The sickness does retreat, at last brought low By that most potent medicine: BEER.
(almost but not quite a true sonnet in iambic pentameter-- it's missing a few lines. But it's the thought that counts, right? Get well soon, my fellow runner.)
13 comments:
I don't get haikus. What's so special about a poem that has 5-7-5 sylables? Most of them don't even rhyme. All good poetry rhymes.
... or even 5-7-5 SYLLABLES.
That sucks!
Not the haiku... Well, maybe a little, but mostly the flu.
Get well soon!
A snotty young feller called Viper -
A flu-addled, windshieldless wiper -
Thought he'd landed in hell or
Was just like Vaniller:
A Philistine wearing a diaper.
Ha-ha! Vanilla has haiku dyslexia!
I always thought the flu was more a limerick-type disease.
I'm sympathetic, but really, all I want to do right now is go wash my hands very, very thoroughly.
Feel better. Once again, whiskey is the answer.
Lots of alcohol kills the germs right? Feel better!
I was wondering
If you left blog-land-i-a
Who would I mock, then?
Feel better, oh bearded one.
Get thee to a stiff drink to kill the germs! (Or just curl up in a warm bed and sleep it off).
Feel better soon!
How shall I soothe thee? Let me tell the ways;
No breadth of miles shall stand between us now.
For I have suffered ere these past few days
With that which does defeat both me and thou.
The head does hurt, the nose it does to run;
The only solace lies in quiet bed;
The body hurts, the eyes avoid the sun
The day is greeted with a lurking dread.
But do not fear, my friend, for life is here
The sickness does retreat, at last brought low
By that most potent medicine: BEER.
(almost but not quite a true sonnet in iambic pentameter-- it's missing a few lines. But it's the thought that counts, right? Get well soon, my fellow runner.)
You have the weakest immune system. Take one GrowAPair and two QuitYerBitchin and don't call me in the morning.
In all seriousness, I hope you feel better soon. Have a restful and healthy weekend.
I like Xenia's advice. Quit making up sicknesses as excuses for flooding the interweb with your bad verse!
no frozen snot in the beard? come on vipes! toughen up!
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