Archives for posts with tag: allergies

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HAY FEVER
by Caitlin Stern

Some view the coming of Spring with dismay
as May flowers blossom from April showers
and more pollen wafts on the breeze every day.
Noses sneeze mayday messages that last for hours
eyes water, and throats catch. For those it seems
the flowers and new leaves in glorious hues
deliberately wreak mayhem on outdoor dreams
of picnics or bike rides—only stuck indoor blues
unless with luck and medicine they can find
uncongested breathing and maybe peace of mind.

IMAGE: “A Single Wish” by Amy Tyler. Prints available at fineartamerica.com.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Caitlin Stern grew up in San Antonio, Texas, where she read in trees, avoided team sports, and “published” her first book in elementary school. As she grew, she wrote and read more, developing into an avid bibliophile and writer. She followed her love of books to Angelo State University, where she worked as a tutor at her school’s Writing Center, and later as a Teaching Assistant while she earned an English MA. Recently, she has edited two mystery novels and a poetry collection, and had poems published in Silver Birch Press’ Summer Anthology and Noir Erasure Poem Anthology.

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IRONY AT THE ALLERGIST’S
by Ellaraine Lockie

Plastic replaces bona fide flowers and pollen
on the table by a stack of magazines
You think you can smell neroli
from the bittersweet blossoms
on the cover of The Green Gardener
Or maybe it’s the gray cat curled
around the tree trunk that’s causing
your nose to raise its voice
 
First the whine of sniffles sends you
to the box of Kleenex on the corner table
Then the blast in a trombone’s decibel range
that causes a woman to drop her pill
Followed by a continued ensemble of sneezes
as Georgia O’Keeffe’s purple petunias
on the wall waft optic allergens
And oak branches outside brush their own
allergy onslaught against the skylight
 
You know by feel that the flowers
beside the Kleenex are silk
Yet your eyes want to water them
Someone offers a Benedryl
but you can’t accept the absurdity
You feel even more foolish to find
from the allergist that dust and molds
are your real antagonists
 
With 179 needle scratches that leave
back and arms with enough red welts
to evoke a battered woman
You return Better Homes and Gardens
to the waiting room table
Brush against a plastic sunflower branch
And gray powders storm the air
that the biggest welt on your arm
welcomes like long-lost relatives

Illustration: “Purple Petunias” by Georgia O’Keeffe (1925)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Ellaraine Lockie is a widely published and awarded poet, nonfiction book author, and essayist. Her ninth and recent chapbook, Wild as in Familiar, was a finalist in the Finishing Line Press Chapbook contest and received The Aurorean’s Chapbook Pick for Spring 2012.  Ellaraine teaches poetry workshops and serves as poetry editor for the lifestyles magazine, Lilipoh, and as associate editor for MobiusSilver Birch Press published her poetry chapbook Coffee House Confessions  on February 3, 2013. Find the book at Amazon.com.

“Irony at the Allergist’s” and other poetry by Ellaraine Lockie appears in the Silver Birch Press Green Anthology — a collection of poetry and prose from over 60 authors around the world — available at Amazon.com.

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IRONY AT THE ALLERGIST’S

by Ellaraine Lockie

Plastic replaces bona fide flowers and pollen
on the table by a stack of magazines
You think you can smell neroli
from the bittersweet blossoms
on the cover of The Green Gardener
Or maybe it’s the gray cat curled
around the tree trunk that’s causing
your nose to raise its voice
 
First the whine of sniffles sends you
to the box of Kleenex on the corner table
Then the blast in a trombone’s decibel range
that causes a woman to drop her pill
Followed by a continued ensemble of sneezes
as Georgia O’Keeffe’s purple petunias
on the wall waft optic allergens
And oak branches outside brush their own
allergy onslaught against the skylight
 
You know by feel that the flowers
beside the Kleenex are silk
Yet your eyes want to water them
Someone offers a Benedryl
but you can’t accept the absurdity
You feel even more foolish to find
from the allergist that dust and molds
are your real antagonists
 
With 179 needle scratches that leave
back and arms with enough red welts
to evoke a battered woman
You return Better Homes and Gardens
to the waiting room table
Brush against a plastic sunflower branch
And gray powders storm the air
that the biggest welt on your arm
welcomes like long-lost relatives

Illustration: “Purple Petunias” by Georgia O’Keeffe (1925)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Ellaraine Lockie is a widely published and awarded poet, nonfiction book author, and essayist. Her ninth and recent chapbook, Wild as in Familiar, was a finalist in the Finishing Line Press Chapbook contest and received The Aurorean’s Chapbook Pick for Spring 2012.  Ellaraine teaches poetry workshops and serves as poetry editor for the lifestyles magazine, Lilipoh, and as associate editor for Mobius. Silver Birch Press published her poetry chapbook Coffee House Confessions  on February 3, 2013. Find the book at Amazon.com.

“Irony at the Allergist’s” and other poetry by Ellaraine Lockie will appear in the Silver Birch Press Green Anthology — a collection of poetry and prose from authors around the world — available March 15, 2013. The Green Anthology includes a wide range of creative explorations inspired by the color green — including poems and stories about nature, love, envy, food, the environment, relationships, the family, seasons, water, eden, and new life.