"I’b sick," I pout ad blow my doze.
"I’b misseeg all by favorite shows.
I hab to stay id bed, you see.
My mob wode led me watch TB.
She breegs me chicked soup ad says
that I should try to get sub rest.
Bud I’b too bored ad icky feeleeg,
yired of stareeg ad the ceileeg,
achy, cougheeg, stuffed up, too.
Bud thaks for askeeg. How are you?"
Text © Kenn Nesbitt, reprinted from The Aliens Have Landed at Our School! published by Meadowbrook Press. Illustration
© Stephen Carpenter. Any copying or use of this poem or illustration
without consent is unlawful.
The Story Behind the Poem:
I had a terrible cold when I wrote this poem. I had felt miserable for two weeks and hadn’t been writing because of it. I decided I had to write a poem even though I felt rotten. When trying to decide what to write about, I could only think, "But I’ve got a cold!" So that’s what I wrote about.
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