Ill

Should you come to visit me, this is what you'll see,
And nothing more:  a man, inert, beneath a blanket,
Dabbing at his nose, and coughing, coughing,
COUGHING violently, so often that he feels as if
He's broken all his ribs.  His wrists and shoulders
Also ache.  Should you observe me long enough,
You'll notice that I close my eyes quite often.  I am
Keen to sleep.  Perhaps I will, but, soon enough,
I'll cough myself awake.





Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 165 times
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Written on 2025-12-08 at 15:48

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I think I'll die the same way
my stepfather lost a lung
I remember an old man living one floor beneath smoking a lot, I think I had upset him a lot, he had a marocan woman, then one day he died and I thought why am I so distant with people dying around me, do I fear death so much, I am confused
2026-01-01


Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
Your poem has been chosen to be featured on the home page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting on our poetry website!
2025-12-15



coughing sounds like cuffing if my prononciation is correct? I almost never learnt English by Natives
who learnt Indian language by Natives? the pionneers imposed their language, they didn't share each other's language as a common value
2025-12-09


Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Nothing else will suffice, so I say, get well soon my friend. Blessings, Allen
2025-12-08