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moon
I love to write even when it sounds like pure nonsense. It's my favorite way to start. "I write, therefore I am." :)
Billings, MT
I am not special. I am not a beautiful or unique snowflake. I am the same decaying organic matter as everything else.
Poems
Joseph Brooks Nickell Nov 2012
Margret Moon
Joseph Brooks Nickell
Nov 2012
Heard the moon from under a blanket.
Wrapped in silk she rapps on my window,
begging in the most patient manner - to be let in.
Hello my lovely Margret.
How I'd like to sink my teeth into her tonight.
Should we have a smoke?
She trembles in her luminous shimmer.
Takes my hands - Margret you devil.
Never an audible urge,
but an ethereal curtain becomes us
and I hear the cry - dance with me, she says.
Not tonight Margret, we must behave ourselves.
God she's a different kind of tempting.
I really should kick this nasty habit, I know.
She snakes those legs around my middle.
She's no pioneer - not a ****** innovator,
Just a crutch, but a beautiful one at that.
Will you stop it, I said not tonight.
Dims a bit, start fearing I've been to rough - but she's back.
Just a passing cloud.
Eager as ever, tonight, to bathe me in radiance.
Dance with me, she cries - and I falter.
Wrapped in silk she rapps on my window,
begging in the most patient manner - to be let in.
Hello my lovely Margret.
How I'd like to sink my teeth into her tonight.
Should we have a smoke?
She trembles in her luminous shimmer.
Takes my hands - Margret you devil.
Never an audible urge,
but an ethereal curtain becomes us
and I hear the cry - dance with me, she says.
Not tonight Margret, we must behave ourselves.
God she's a different kind of tempting.
I really should kick this nasty habit, I know.
She snakes those legs around my middle.
She's no pioneer - not a ****** innovator,
Just a crutch, but a beautiful one at that.
Will you stop it, I said not tonight.
Dims a bit, start fearing I've been to rough - but she's back.
Just a passing cloud.
Eager as ever, tonight, to bathe me in radiance.
Dance with me, she cries - and I falter.
Paul Hardwick Feb 2012
Gift to Margret.
Paul Hardwick
Feb 2012
Margret sat at the window in her wheel chair.
As she always did on Thursdays.
Maybe it is today.
When I see that tall dark handsome man again.
Her view was obscured by the net curtain slightly.
But his siluette she knew.
So engraved was it on her mind.
Wish i had made that tea now.
She said to herself.
But I can not leave now.
So she reach for the Gin which was at hand.
Really should not.
She said to herself.
As she poured it in the glass.
Just one finger or two.
After finishing two glasses.
The siluette stood at the end of the path.
In a panic she pulled at the wheel chair.
Now the front door was the target.
Pushing and pulling at her wheel chair, on her way into the hall.
She became stuck on the carpet gripper, that separated the lounge from the hall.
In her frustration, she pulled and push those wheels till.
Over the gripper they went.
She could hear the siluette footsteps now receding.
Getting to the front door there she saw laying on the floor an envelope.
Her hands now hot and sweaty, ripped the envelope apart.
Reading these words, the words she wanted to hear.
Please find enclose your new pension book.
As she always did on Thursdays.
Maybe it is today.
When I see that tall dark handsome man again.
Her view was obscured by the net curtain slightly.
But his siluette she knew.
So engraved was it on her mind.
Wish i had made that tea now.
She said to herself.
But I can not leave now.
So she reach for the Gin which was at hand.
Really should not.
She said to herself.
As she poured it in the glass.
Just one finger or two.
After finishing two glasses.
The siluette stood at the end of the path.
In a panic she pulled at the wheel chair.
Now the front door was the target.
Pushing and pulling at her wheel chair, on her way into the hall.
She became stuck on the carpet gripper, that separated the lounge from the hall.
In her frustration, she pulled and push those wheels till.
Over the gripper they went.
She could hear the siluette footsteps now receding.
Getting to the front door there she saw laying on the floor an envelope.
Her hands now hot and sweaty, ripped the envelope apart.
Reading these words, the words she wanted to hear.
Please find enclose your new pension book.