Posted in Poetry

Ode to Oak Season

Today at school, my sinus headache made me grumpy with my students, even though they hadn’t done anything to make me grumpy. But I don’t think they noticed; they were grumpy too. One boy bravely volunteered answers and completed his work while holding a tissue to his nose the entire class period. One girl had to go to the bathroom due to a bloody nose. In one class, I counted nine sneezes. (Two of them were mine. One came from somewhere in the hallway.) Everyone who wasn’t actively sneezing, sniffling, or coughing stared at me with a vague, foggy expression.

All of this is to say… oak season has descended on Austin.

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This is the big, beautiful, majestic (evil, torturous, sneeze-inducing) oak tree in our front yard and the top of my car, which used to be blue.

Ten days ago, I was writing on patios and taking walks at the Wildflower Center and sleeping in my hammock. Now, it feels like any one of those things could kill me. The pollen count is in the high to extreme-high range, which means every time I go outside for more than two minutes, my eyes start to itch, my sinuses swell up, and I start talking like the albino in The Princess Bride before he cleared his throat.

Ah, spring time.

I wrote a poem about oak allergies, which is in this year’s Texas Poetry Calendar. In honor of oak season and National Poetry Month, wipe off your glasses, put some drops in your eyes, and read “Yellow.” I’m going to go use my neti pot.

*

YellowTPC-Cover-Poss

We are covered in cowardice,
seeped in a sickly smear
that sticks in crevices
and crow’s feet,
revealing all our lines.

We wade through
fallen sunshine,
track fresh banana footprints
onto faded dandelion floors,
taste gold dust on our tongues.

We yield to the bitter grime
that clogs our nostrils,
clothing our lungs
in warning shades
with each breath.

During oak season,
we view the world
through a margarine haze,
learn how it feels
to be pollinated.

© Carie Juettner

Posted in Poetry, Random

*Closed Due to Allergies*

There are SOOOO many blog posts I want to write – book reviews and humorous lists and writing advice and clever anecdotes that will fit your life so perfectly and make you smile. I want to write all of that and more. I want to write novel chapters and short stories and grocery lists and postcards to people I don’t know. I want to write it all.

Unfortunately, I have been stricken with cedar allergies. My throat hurts, my eyes itch, it feels like there is cotton in my ears, and my nose… let me just spare you the details of what my nose has been doing. Just know that it is both ceaseless and disgusting. Also, if I sit in the same place for more than fifteen minutes, I tend to fall asleep.

So you and I both will have to wait until the cedar pollen loosens its grip on my senses to find out what interesting tidbits I have to share with you. For now, I’m letting someone else do the work. And that someone is Poetweet.

What is Poetweet?

Poetweet is a program that creates poems from your tweets. It’s as simple and as awesome as that. You just go to their website, type in your Twitter handle, and choose the type of poem you want them to make: sonnet, rondel, or indriso. With my love of fate and literature-based fortune-telling, I naturally fell in love with this little game and had to try all three forms.

Here they are. I hope you enjoy them, and I hope you compose a Poetweet of your own. If you do, share the link in the comments! 🙂

Poem #1:

I have written several sonnets in my life, but never one quite like this.

Read my sonnet here.

Poem #2:

I have actually never written a rondel, but have always wanted to. You think this counts?

Read my rondel here.

Poem #3:

I had never heard of an indriso before, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say this is a fantastic specimen.

Read my indriso here.

Have fun with Poetweet! See you again when I finish sneezing!