Poems about FEELING ILL!
by Little Dazzy Donuts

Here’s a selection of poems about feeling ill taken from the weekly Kids’ Poetry Club podcast, including links to podcast episodes and YouTube videos.
All poems are written by children’s poet, Little Dazzy Donuts. Illustrations by Dot Cherch.

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“Bounce”

(available in episode 89)

If I had to guess, I'd say that you're
related to kangaroos,
and all those outback bouncing genes
are deep inside of you.

Then I'd guess that your bones are really made
from the rubber found in balls -
those super elastic bouncy ones
that can spring to ten feet tall.

Then, despite your normal ears and nose,
I've noticed a little habit,
of you bouncing up from off a chair
so I guess you're partly rabbit.

It may sound from all these wondrous guesses
that you're a human pogo stick,
which is why I'll say, without a doubt,
you'll bounce right back from this.


“Full of Beans”

(available in episode 35)

On reflection, I really over-did it,
as I'm now so full of beans.
I ate them, and ate them, and ate them,
plus they're all over my shirt and my jeans.
The first course was a plate full of baked beans.
The second was pinto and black.
The third course was garbanzo and navy.
By the fourth course, there was no going back
as I shoveled down spoonfuls of refried
beans warmed up, and with cheese.
Then, for dessert, I ate kidney bean brownies.
At which point, I dropped to my knees.
Now I find myself here at the doctor’s,
strapped to beeping machines,
while nurses all stand back awaiting
the moment I just spill the beans!


 

“My Non-Vegetable Diet”

(available in episode 26)

I didn’t eat vegetables just for one day,
then another, and then a whole year.
No broccoli, carrots, not even a pea.
Meat and bread were the only foods for me.

Until I woke up one morning and couldn’t see right.
Strange things had happened to me all through the night.
So, they called for the doctor, who came right away.
He prodded and poked me before turning to say,

“You must just eat vegetables for the rest of the year,
and do so while grinning from ear to ear.
If you don’t, expect consequences to be really rough,
as your head will come loose and your legs will drop off.”

Ever since then, I’ve eaten my peas,
carrots, broccoli and cauliflower cheese.
I’ll only let vegetables pass through my lips,
as I want both my legs attached to my hips.


 
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“Allergy Analogies”

(available in episode 31 and on YouTube)

Having an allergy is like…

being stuck with someone
you really don’t like,
who’s with you all day,
and again all the night.

You’re like a runner,
but not how it usually implies,
as your legs don’t go running –
it’s your nose and your eyes.

It’s like you’re one touch away
from serious harm,
and wishing for once
you could visit a farm,

without falling apart
all over the place.
It’s like wherever you go
you find yourself chased,

and there’s nowhere to hide,
and it’s easy to see
just how annoying
allergy analogies can be!


“Allergy Season”

(available in episode 31)

I can tell from your expression
that you’re going to sneeze,
and not a dainty subtle squeak
with a gentle wafting breeze,
but an ear-bursting explosion
that will tear right through this place
once the air you just gasped in so hard
erupts back out your face.

In the seconds I find that I now have,
I’ll dive under the bed
else I’ll feel large chunks of ceiling
dropping down upon my head.
Once safely there, I’ll stay a while,
and hide for the good reason,
that many dangers lurk around
here in allergy season.


 

“My Allergy Test”

(available in episode 31)

On a normal doctor visit,
to check my weight and height,
my eyes, they watered,
my nose, it ran.
The doctor took out her light.

She checked my throat,
and in my ears,
then wrote down on her pad
that I should keep a detailed diary
of when my allergies got bad.

For the next three months, I noted
whenever I did a sneeze,
or my eyes they ran,
or my skin all itched
from my head down to my knees.

I saw my doctor every week,
when she tried to analyze
whether it was grasses,
cats, or household dust,
giving me red and puffy eyes.

She was puzzled that I was fine at home,
yet my allergies they'd peak
after six whole days
of not a single sneeze,
I'd be awful once a week.

Eventually, she cracked it,
and, for that, I'll never knock her.
As I’m fine with cats,
and grasses too,
but I'm allergic to my doctor!


 
 
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“My Worry Box”

(available in episode 15 and on YouTube)

Something started worrying me
that was really very small,
but the more I thought, the worse it got,
as that worry began to sprawl

all over my life, and before very long
it kept jumping in my head,
and at night I found I just couldn't sleep
when it jumped into my bed.

That worry started as something small,
but grew to such a size,
that my head was filled with scary thoughts,
my tummy with butterflies.

Until one day, I asked for help
and found it to be true
that the worry may get the best of one,
but not the best of two.

Then, I built a box inside my brain,
where I put my worries away,
and that's where my worries wait
so they don't fill all my day.

Now, when I'm lying in my bed
and a worry calls on me,
I lock it away inside my box,
and then throw away the key.


“My Worry Time”

(available in episode 15 and on YouTube)

At one, I worried about falling down.
At two, I worried about seeing a clown.
By three, scary shadows danced on my wall.
There were monsters under my bed, when I was four.
At five, I worried school was too scary for me.
At six, it was something I saw on TV.
By seven, I was worried did I have enough friends?
When eight, I was worried about tests at year-end.
At nine, I worried my loved ones were old
At ten, I was worried about catching a cold.
By eleven, I worried what I’d grow up to be,
and would I always have something worrying me.

So I decided I’d pick a time of the day,
and I’d then store all of my worries away.
I’d just get them out at worrying time
so they didn’t spend the whole day filling my mind.
Soon, I found my worries started to shrink.
I had more time for fun, to play and to think.
Now, I don’t even worry about figuring out
what I’ll do when there’s nothing to worry about.

 
 
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“Ailments”

(available in episode 6)

I know you need me out of bed.
I'm sorry but I could be ill instead.
I've listened so much to things you say
that I'm feeling them now in every way.
My eyes have moved to the back of my head.
My foot's in my mouth, and I have a dead leg.
My elbow is greased. There's a pat on my back.
My leg has been pulled. My heart is now black.
There's a slap on my wrist. I'm a sight for sore eyes,
and the chip on my shoulder was quite the surprise.
I have a knee-jerk reaction, and a frog in my throat.
I'm down in the mouth, with no antidote
for my cauliflower ears and my sweet tooth
though my lips are all sealed, I'm telling the truth.
My eyes are now square, and I'm getting cold feet,
plus I have a cold shoulder, please turn up the heat.
I know this will cost an arm and a leg,
so my gut feeling's saying to stay here in bed!


 

“My Cold”

(available in episode 6)

I sneezed so hard 
that my ears fells off,
which made me laugh 
and I started to cough.
Then I coughed so hard 
that I started to shake,
and I shook so hard
that I felt my neck break.
Which led to my head
falling onto the floor,
and it was impossible to find
as I couldn't see any more.
So I stumbled around
and bumped right into harm,
when my hips dropped off
and so did my arms.
I knew this would happen
when I started to sneeze,
now the only thing left 
are some knobbly knees.
They say colds can be tricky,
so I should have been smart
by staying in bed
and not falling apart.


 
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“Elephant Cold”

(available in episode 6 and on YouTube)

Imagine what it’s like to be
an elephant with a cold.
All those tissues that you’d need
just to blow your nose.
Then imagine what would happen
if you need to sneeze,
and everything right in front of you
suddenly disappears.


“Each Morning”

(available in episode 3 and on YouTube)

I wake up each morning,
and check that everything’s right,
just in case a part of me
wandered off in the night.

When I woke up this morning,
I counted my toes.
I counted my fingers,
and I counted my nose.
I counted my elbows.
I counted my tummy.
I counted my knees.
I know that sounds funny.

It totaled 26 when I counted last night.
If I count 25, I’ll be in for a fright.
If I count 27, then a new thing has grown,
and for sure a doctor will come
to see me at home.

I suggest you count too,
when you go to bed,
and you start with your toes,
and end with your head.
It’s the best you can do
to check everything’s right,
and that nothing gets lost
when off wandering at night.


 

“I Lost My Balance”

(available in episode 5)

I lost my balance at school yesterday.
I’ve looked everywhere but simply can’t find it.

I looked in the classroom.
I looked in the hall,
which was really quite difficult when I so easily fall.
Back when I had it, I could stand up quite tall,
but now I feel giddy, and I don’t walk, I crawl.

It’s sad but I fall over with the gentlest breeze,
so please find my balance
for the sake of my knees!