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I lay in my bed

Flat on my back

Sick with the flu

That people

Used to call


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


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


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

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Sep 05, 2023

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…

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