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Àŧùl Aug 4
Joe was a teenager unhappy with his bed,
For it creaked a lot whenever he moved.

He asked his parents to get it fixed,
But they told him to grow up & earn.

Soon his parents were both dead,
In an accident, in a ****** one.

Though he escaped from the accident,
Poor Joe was traumatised unfathomably.

His parents had a great accidental insurance,
And they were so sincere in doling out the claim.

Cremated them in the electric crematorium,
He was left with a million dollars and an urn.

He had a girlfriend, Jonita, very beautiful,
She was very active in life and in the bed.

Tiaan-tiaan, karr-karr, chian-chian,
Creeaak-creeaak, creeaak-creeaak.

Helped him move beyond the sordid memories,
She helped him soothe himself with the love.

The bed used to screech whenever they played,
They jumped on the bed, and they danced.

Rhythmically their dance lasted for 7 minutes,
Sometimes they played for multiple sessions.

Jonita one day told Joe to be serious,
For life's not just about love and ***.

Sure, Joe had a million dollars,
But that was what he inherited.

Now Joe must be serious and get a job,
For the inheritance & insurance are limited.

Jonita negatively motivated him,
Challenging Joe to earn something.

Joe promised to start earning,
But asked Jonita to marry him.

She consented, and they got married,
Kept the ceremony very much private.

Just the two of them, and two witnesses,
In that morbid-looking court house.

'That money is limited,' realised Joe,
Prepared to get employed with the Force.

He grew up and hustled harder in the fray,
And achieved getting enlisted in the Force.

Jonita was already happy, now she was proud,
Her stallion now wore the royal blue plumes.

"You're my centaur," she used to say happily,
Whenever he'd dress up for reporting at work.

Truly he was a centaur for her, and for the Force too,
Guiding his jet through the angelic skies.

'Life is good,' so thought Joe,
He trusted his every bro.

His friends assured him of his wife's safety,
Of her safety, Joseph indeed want a surety.

Joe went away for a war, call of duty, you know,
But before he went, he had a battle in the bed.

A ferocious one, with blaring metal in the background,
He drilled Jonita deep until they both bled.

There were scars on Joe's back,
As if a cat scratched him bad.

Even Jonita had hickeys and bite marks,
As if a bunny had nipped her *******.

Her shoulders bore witness to love,
And to ******* of that dove.

The news spoke of a war that broke out,
And Joe received the deployment orders.

Now, soon he went away for the war,
He missed her during the month away.

The bed's creaking he missed the most,
The centaur avoided stroking his bird.

He focused on the war, and the battle plan,
Also, he wanted to save some memories to share.

He shot, he fired, and dropped some bombs,
Killed many soldiers, maimed some others.

He also downed many enemy fighter jets,
Evaded enemy fire, engaged them in dogfights.

Amongst all the targets he hit,
The enemy soldiers were decimated.

And they won the war sooner than expected.

He shifted his focus from the war to the lover,
But he planned something more.

Joseph wanted to surprise Jonita,
So he didn't let her know he was coming home.

When he arrived back,
He wanted to read her eyes.

So, he used his set of keys.

'Pleasant surprise' he expected,
But he heard the bed creaking.

The same way it did when they made love,
The same way it did when she rided his lightning.

He loaded his gun.

Nervous, he climbed up, expecting the unspeakable,
But peered inside the bedroom to find her alone.

Sure, she was naked,
But not with anyone else.

She was gyrating to his memories,
There was his name in her whispers.

And all this while,
Her eyes were closed.

Gyrating and vibrating,
Cupping her pillows.

It was her own hands,
Not anybody else's.

He unloaded the gun.

Joe was lucky,
He had Jonita.
A poem inspired by my favourite English song.

My HP Poem #1974
©Atul Kaushal
Jeremy Betts Mar 2
If you gotta pick one over the other
Go with the other
Because if it was the one
There wouldn't be another

©2024
My Dear Poet Feb 23
When I said
I was here for you
I didn’t realise
you wouldn’t
be here too
NoctOwl Jul 2022
There is this deception
That I always tend to believe
The past is great
The past is the golden age

But as I wonder,
What makes the present day?
Isn't lovely?
Isn't magnificent today?

And now I reflect,
And remember Your faithfulness
The present accumulates
The wonder of Your grace
He is faithful.
Isaac afunadhula May 2021
Faithful you are who washed away sin and pain
Strengthen me and walk with me through the storm that l face
You took the blame and saved my soul
You called my name up in the mountain fog
A reason to live in my life again
You breathed within my soul
You grace and mercy unfold in the future
I thank you Jesus because you are with me now and forever.
Be blessed with this poem
annh Oct 2020
’Ego sum hic.’

Calling to the dawn,
Baying at the moon,
Petitioning the horizon,
Summoning the faithful;

The yearning indefinite,
In pursuit of an enduring affirmative;
An echo searching for its source
In the boundless beyond.


’Ibi tu es, tu es, tu es, tu es...‘
‘When at eve, at the bounding of the landscape, the heavens appear to recline so slowly on the earth, imagination pictures beyond the horizon an asylum of hope, a native land of love; and nature seems silently to repeat that man is immortal.’
- Madame de Stael
Owen Aug 2020
I'm sorry,
I'm drunk, I know.
But how can you text me
a smile,
when you just threw
every promise
out the window.
When you let him in
and up to your room.
When you laid down
and let intimacy ensue.
If you wanted him,
just tell me
so I know where I stand,
so I don't have to be
your man.
How do I deal with reality.
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