Well, it’s cold and flu season again, and we had so much fun with the headcold haiku last year I thought all you sadly snotty suffering people could use a bit of cheer. So, this round how about a Seuss Slam on all things snot related? A jolly exchange of odes to the code in your node.
I’ll get you started with some motherly advice, then I want to hear your snotty, seussy poems!
Spit it out! (My mother said
of that stuff in my lungs
that drips from my head.)
You can’t leave that gunk
sitting there in your chest.
Don’t just cough a little,
cough BIG, it’s the best.
Now listen to your mom’s advice,
a dainty cough won’t save your life!
Heed my words, or you’ll get pneumonia
and I’ll find you dead, next time I phone you.
Valerie Roney 
Ahahaha! Pneumonia…I phone you… love the rhyme!
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Yay! Glad you caught it, I worked hard to come up with that. Thanks!
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Green and ugly it stuffs up my head
For three days now I’ve laid in my bed
When looking for sympathy you have to be wary
It’s only found here in the dictionary.
A box full of Kleenex I’ve gone through at least
In trying to deal with this runny snot beast.
And still it continues as I gasp and I wheeze
I’m not down and out but just on my knees.
What did I do? Where could I have caught
This thing that deserves the old “netty pot”
I flush green snot out ten times a day.
“Oh let it end soon” to the big guy I pray.
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I’m not much of a poet, but here’s what I got:
I’d like to explain my painful dismay,
But there’s just not a chance. No kidding, no way!
Everyone knows about snotty and sneezy,
It’s just not that easy when my chest isn’t wheezy.
You see for some time I get a wee cold,
My nostrils plug up and a small cough takes hold.
That ailment though is simply a ruse,
My body’s warning of news, “it’s your throat in their views.”
It’s advising of viruses, maybe millions, at least a few,
They’re about to take part in what viruses do.
Attacking my neck’s innards making it swelly and sore,
What those miniscule bastards have in store, I abhor.
There’s not much I can do to counter their charge,
I sleep and I rest. I try not to live large.
My job is to simply hold supply lines, getting all the right stuff to all the right places.
Because by and large it’s out of my hands, the army’s in charge and they’re manning the bases.
As I understand it, the army are lymphocytes,
The pathogens are the bad guys who they have in their sights.
All I know is if I rest well and eat well, though weak,
I might be well enough to go back to work next week.
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My snotty contribution is not a seussian write up but a description of what I would look like if I drew what my face looked like it feels with this darn head cold. It is sort of a tribute to Picasso.
the left side of my face
is fairly normal
with only a drop
poised at the end
of my nostril
ready to be
wiped gently
by a lotion soaked tissue
The right side of my face
has a large pulsing bulb on
the forehead
my right eye is swollen
and laced with red veins
with tears streaming
my cheek bone is
as sharp as a knife’s edge
my lip is scaly and red
and best/worse of all
there is a river of
goo pouring out of my
left nostril
that no hankie can
sop up
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