"nicky" poems
Palembang, 17 Desember 2011
Aku hidup dengan nafas mu Bapak, Ibu
Aku ada karena Dia Yang Maha Satu
Namun raga ini aku yang bawa
Jiwa ini aku yang menjaga
Hidup ini aku yang memilih
Cerita ini aku yang jalani
Aku tumbuh bersama nafas mereka
Aku termotivasi karena mereka juga
Nafas kita menyatu
Mereka menghela nafas kebahagianku
Aku menghela nafas kebahagian-Mu
Nafas kami juga nafas mu, Bapak.. Ibu..
Kau pelita kehidupan
Obor benderang di gelap ku
Bekal mengenyangkan di lapar ku
Oasis indah nan segar di dahaga ku
Tak akan ada aku tanpa-Nya
Tak akan hidup aku hingga sekarang tanpa Bapak dan Ibu
Tak akan aku bertahan tanpa diriku sendiri
Dan aku hidup tuk bersama mereka
Aku yang menentukan
Dia tinggal menyetujuinya
Bapak Ibu hanya bmendoakan
Dan sebentar lagi mereka ku gapai
(it’s because I Love Shane, Mark, Kian and Nicky)
Dec 19, 2011
Dec 19, 2011 at 1:41 AM UTC
Denim and Icky Nicky pooping in a tree
p o o p i ng
Denim is 2 dumb 2 understand luvvvv
and icky Nicky is ugly as heck.
Denim wants to marry icky Nicky and have lots of ugly children.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 11:02 AM UTC
Nicky, the neighbor’s dog, drags a road **** home.
A beautiful pelt like those fox shoulder garments women wore in the
forties.
But the head is crushed beyond recognition—maybe it’s a fox and that’s
why Nicky, a canine, is conducting this wake on our front lawn.
Loretta, my wife’s mother, is in the hospital again. Forty years of Crohn’s
disease has finally broken her.
It may take some time but she won’t bounce back from this episode.
None of us are sorry to see her die, not even Loretta. There will be a
thunderous downpour during her last hour.
I like the story about the nuns hitting Peg in school–contumacy is a sin.
Emile and Loretta considered it an inappropriate punishment for their
cherished adopted daughter.
So they pulled her out of Catholic for public school. They did their own
thinking about discipline.
Early Spring, peepers all night, then the birds take over at dawn.
Soothing—the mourning doves.
During this half of the year, May through October, we live in a green
bower.
We turn the house inside out, move into the mountains.
In their annual order, flowers appear in the understory: coltsfoot, hepatica
and trillium through to the end, late purple aster, spotted joe pye and
pearly everlasting.
We let Nicky nurse her road **** watch over it, roll around on it.
Don’t let go of the steering wheel while driving fast in the passing lane.
Jan 16, 2024
Jan 16, 2024 at 7:35 AM UTC
She hides the scar with long sleeves
Even on scorching summer days
So no one can see
or ask why
I sometimes tell stupid jokes
to try and make her smile
But there's an awful sadness
in her eyes
that I can't cure
Nicky's wrist is a road-map
to a dark place
with no return ticket
She reaches for a bottle of pills
to knock her out at night
The knife she used
under the bed
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 4:09 PM UTC
Alexa,
When she walks in a room,
I hear BOOM BOOM BOOM,
Shaking the floor,
No she she's not a florist or even some skanky *****
She's just a kid,
Who's been forbid,
From talking to morbids,
Like Eesha or Thalia or Nicky.
I can guarantee you right now,
You'll never see her walk around with a hickey.
While I should get going,
I have a lawn that needs mowing,
So bye to all of you,
Next time you hear the name Alexa, I'm sure you wont say "who?"
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC
As far back as I can remember, i always wanted to be a gangster.
-Quote by Ray liotta in good fellas movie.-
“Nothing personal, it’s just business” ~ Otto Berman
“Las Vegas turns women into men and men into idiots.” ~ Bugsy Siegel.
“This life of ours, this is a wonderful life. If you can get through life like this and get away with it, hey, that’s great. But its very, very unpredictable. There’s so many ways you can ***** it up.” ~ Paul Castellano
Thirty-two hundred dollars he gave me. Thirty-two hundred dollars for a lifetime. It wasn’t even enough to pay for the coffin.” (ray liotta as Henry hill) good fellas movie.
“I hate to say this, but this place is getting to me. I think I’m getting the fear.” Dr. Gonzo( fear and loathing in Las Vegas)
“If my answers frighten you then you should cease asking scary questions.” Jules. ( movie pulp fiction with John travolta and Samuel l. Jackson. Also starring bruce Willis.)
“No matter how big a guy might be, Nicky would take him on. You beat Nicky with fists, he comes back with a bat. You beat him with a knife, he comes back with a gun. And you beat him
with a gun, you better **** him, because he’ll keep comin’ back and back
until one of you is dead.” Ace Rothstein ( movie Casino) Robert deniro, Joe pesci.
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 12:01 AM UTC
Tribal paint flickers
as illumination passes by
packed platforms of private souls
spilling into peripheral vision
Saturday nights
create fresh perspective
on unconscious thoughts
An unpulled can
of tired, bow-tied Spaniards
and white-clad partygoers
Tinney earphones
thrusting Brooklyn's finest
99 Problems aren't on my mind
but in my (un)willing ears
And I saw you on the street
42nd I'd say
I was filling my lungs
with the poison,
beautiful,
you showed me
You walked past me
just another stranger
you in 10 years time
They say everyone has a doppelganger in NYC
I haven't seen mine
but she's seen me
and Brooke saw her too,
rolled up Levis and a frown
you looked as beautiful as you always did
but clean of everything
you'd ever touched
or is yet to touch you
because nicky clouds
my thoughts lift me higher
I wanted to tell you that
I pray now
But I let you walk by
and disappear
leaving me with myself
coffee spilt from matches
got twisted and wouldn't light
I'm one handed,
crowded city but you're not here.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 8:41 PM UTC
Nine Lives (Cat From Hell)
I have a cat that just wont die,
trust me, I gave it the old college try.
It pukes, pees and poops on the floor,
brings dead animals to my front door.
I've dropped him off many of miles,
but it always comes back after awhile's.
No food or water for many of weeks,
my water bed now has many leaks.
Killing this cat is so **** tricky,
whenever I **** it, he comes back like Little Nicky.
Poisoned its food with lots of cyanide,
into the window it would collide.
Stabbed it twice, buried it in the yard,
but in like Pet Sematary, this cat will die hard.
Ran it over and over with my truck,
he just makes me look like a schmuck.
Tried to drown it in my bath tub,
this cat belongs to the nine lives club.
Every morning, I wake up in my own blood,
it laughs at me while he smokes my last bud.
He breathes fire from its meowing mouth,
he definitely came from the deep south.
I'm like Tom, he's like Jerry,
its favorite drink is a ****** Mary.
I once even fed him to my dog,
next day it came back inside a brown log.
I've punched it hard, and kicked it far,
this hell cat is the most bizarre.
Tried killing it with a single gun shot,
burned it with water that was boiling hot.
No matter what I tried it wouldn't work,
he always made me look like a stupid ****
I even burned down my own house,
there he was carrying out a dead mouse.
My whole body burning from cat scratch fever,
I chopped off its head with a sharp meat cleaver.
Put it in a huge *** and made some cat chop suey,
it tasted bad and very gooey.
After that day, I felt scratching from the inside,
two weeks later, internal bleeding is how I died.
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 8:45 PM UTC
Her,
She's the one you see,
When you get up to ***
Or to go get some tea,
She's the one you notice,
Just like a lotus,
Except she's from Jamaica,
Nicky probably wishes she was a part of his cejka,
I'm going to cut this short just for today,
I'll make a sequel and you will all yell HOORAY!!!!
If you haven't guessed,
I won't have you search the West,
I'll tell you who it's about,
It's bout a girl named Thalia,
Who is quite a dahlia,
To her bestest friend in the entire world EVA WOOT WOOT!!!!!
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 7:23 PM UTC
And just like that little Nicky and I had a date.
Sugar cookies decorated with icing, musical chairs
at every table.
Balloons with strands of silky fabric dangled from the Party hall ceiling.
Their little fingers crook daintily, holding the tiny tea cups
while their mothers sipped tea and ate cookies.
She is a sweet tune in my heart and I hope to play it all my life
With the memories of the sugar cookies,
and all those tea time moments together
She loved the princesses and tea time theme;
that was October of two thousand and four
I love the pink plastic bags.
Her birthday was yesterday;
today we are having a skype group video chat
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC
It won’t be a surprise, you know what I'm saying?
I - just - love –Ealing, whether working or playing.
I've been on my travels, I've been here, I've been there
I've followed my Jesus, ‘til He led me here.
And now I can't help it, I love every street
and as I turn 50, people ask, 'Pete,
why are you stirred to serve this old city
with Isaac and Josh, with Lois and Nicky?'
'Oh, golly', I say, 'Isn't it clear?
It's the call of Jesus each day that I hear.'
But, hand - on - my – heart, it's a challenge - isn't it?
How do I serve, when I'm five foot six?
Now I love a good quote. I know you don’t judge,
but some people say I love them too much.
I love a great movie, but sit at the rear
so people around me won't notice my tears.
[I'm just being honest with you.]
I love a good read, I've got books wall to wall
and I love the Arsenal when they're on the ball.
I was in the Olympics, did I tell you that?
If you look real closely you might see my cap.
I love Redeemer, the believers who gather,
how they will turn up to worship no matter.
I love just how creative some of them are,
the wannabe poets, the guys on guitar.
Now I mustn't embarrass anyone here,
but I love my dear wife, just so that's clear.
I love my three kids in no special order;
as they keep on growing I’ll cheer ever louder.
And each day I go walking, I might even run,
cos by living with passion I might serve the Son.
I - just - love – Ealing. Do I hear an Amen?
Let's stride out together! Redeemer-London!
Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 4:48 PM UTC
*I feel for thee, dearest Mom
I understand how well you fear
The thought that your cats may go to homes where
They might be mistreated
But as I have wrote you before in another poem of mine
I will get them back for you and do everything I can
To make sure that they come back purring in your arms
You will hopefully see again Cookie's dear face
But even if you get your two cats back
I shall try to be happy because I plan
To hopefully adopt Ruby too if I can
But I still miss my kittens Nicky and Jami Lee
I see Nicky's dear face and remember how I held
Him in my arms and how he looked so cute
And also how he would look into my eyes so
Puzzled like
Oh how I miss Nicky and his sister Jami Lee
I remember how I gave my kitten Nicky
The nickname of my best friend
And how it hurts so that my two kittens were given away.
So do not be sad, my dearest Mom
I shall wipe away your tears
Because you'll see your cats
And I'll have my new cat (hopefully) Ruby.*
~Marian~
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 10:13 AM UTC
Think summer dressing in Australia and Zimmermann has always been front-of-mind. No surprise then, that it was the first Australian label to be picked up by Net-A-Porter 10 years ago - a milestone that is being celebrated by Zimmermann’s fourth (yes, fourth) collaborative capsule collection with the company.
“We’re saying 10 years of good time,” says Nicky Zimmermann on the phone from the Zimmermann’s headquarters in Rosebery. “The actual concept can be in a matter of days, particularly if you have a really good feeling about it like this one.” For her sister Simone, she remembers speaking to Net-A-Porter about it in February - “they were extremely supportive, they’ve always understood the whole designer space,” she says. “You do these sort of things and it’s one day at a time.”
For her favourite piece, she zeroes in on a printed dress with a lace trim. “I just know that I would wear it to a beautiful dinner or a wedding somewhere overseas. It’s got a lovely, relaxed vibe and lots of detail.” Each and every element is exclusive to the collection, from the lace to the print. “Nothing is anything we’ve used before,” Nicky explains.
Evolving from a Paddington market stall 25 years ago to six US stores and more to come (next on the list: London) is no easy feat. “Zimmermann have always had an international perspective,” says Maria Williams, a Net-A-Porter buyer who has worked with the label since starting at the e-tailer in 2010. “They were one of the first Australian brands to go global. They set their sights on the US by setting up stores in New York and L.A. and they’re continuing to grow. They have managed to tap into what every woman wants to wear globally… What’s been integral to the brand since its inception has remained but their move to show at New York Fashion Week and developments in terms of their fabrications have certainly elevated its position on the global fashion stage.” The label will also be moving to a larger US office in New York. “There’s more infrastructure in terms of general staff joining that team,” divulges Simone - not that she’s forgetting Australia too, since she also mentions the Paddington store that will relaunch in July.
“The essence of what we do is always there,” says Nicky. “On the design end, myself and the design team are better for each collection. It’s not where I want to be if I want to be only as good as my first two collections, 25 years ago!”Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com | www.marieaustralia.com/vintage-formal-dresses
Jul 1, 2016
Jul 1, 2016 at 2:14 AM UTC
Yesterday I cut a gathered lump of hair off of my head
and all around me were the tendrils
and the tail I held in my hand I thought I might save.
Nicky told me "If you think it's so weird, then stop doing it"
But I kept the hair I didn't mean to lose.
Like I did my first night in jail,
after Chris,
When they gave me a comb and threatened to shave me,
I kept a ball in the pocket of my stripped shirt
then later in my underwear for safer hiding.
The box of long blonde braids,
and a thick black pony tail,
and bags of blue hair
sits in my bathroom cabinet above the sink.
But the hair in my hand I discarded willfully.
It is not the memory in front of the mirror before school
with the swollen brush marks across my legs.
Nor was it standing in the dining room across from my sister and mother huddled,
across from my stepfather out of breath,
and she choosing him.
I said I'd answer, "I didn't want it on my head"
Or "It just fell out, oh my God!"
But "I'm losing my mind" burst out instead
And I guess I feel alright just yet.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
We played our childish game of seven minutes in heaven,
when I knew very well that I should have gone to hell.
We played an endless game of nicky nicky nine doors,
because the floors were lava and we had no where else to go.
Too little hiding and too little seeking to find what we wanted,
or to even run away from what we truly honoured.
We played games like children playing breaking bricks,
trying to break traditions set by parents from years earlier.
We chose to play a 'til we die' game called arranged marriage,
because operation made for a better game than abortion,
and it's all distorted marketing; trying to sell parkinsons-
to veterans with medicine prices sky rocketing.
We lived in a time where playing cops and robbers
meant playing tax offices trying to honour tax on coffins.
Take the heinous nature of human and discount it forward,
we are not all as evil as we seem, but we still play jump rope
with the sensitive lines hidden behind media's eyes,
we play jump rope with politics because it was always fun-
to lunge up the ladder in a game of snakes and ladders.
We all played at monogamy like it was a game of monopoly,
constantly competing for marriage like it was Mayfair on the board.
We've boarded on a train of imagination with fetishes and kinks,
trying to rethink what the ordinary could never provide,
and I admit, i lost in the game called tinder but I don't lose sleep
knowing I haven't matched with someone who swiped right.
We built campfire out of torches because there's still a light
in the horse **** we go through on a daily basis,
and we hold our tragic faces trying to compete with the sob stories
of modern day Romeo and juliet's because what's best is beyond us.
So I tire of playing Simon Says when I know quite well that
we play duck duck goose with bullets and guns hoping the fun
doesn't reach us too soon because there's still some fun in funeral.
We played our childish game of seven minutes in heaven,
when I knew very well that I should have gone to hell.
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 11:34 PM UTC
when did you get so picky?
I grilled you a ribeye rare
olive oil baked brussel sprouts
but you chewed them up
and spit them out
you need your greens
Greek salad with olives
and feta cheese
stop tripping Nicky
your jeans are too tight
but they come off easy
your requests are so confusing
buy me a ring
but it won't mean a thing
I can't get into specifics
but i'm questioning
what i've become
and you are a major part
of the problem
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 1:59 AM UTC
Nicky was my friend,
and yes, Nicky.
Because they were never a she
they were just lead into believing they were
because people here, at this ******* funeral,
would never open their ******* mind
and certainly not their ******* eyes.
Nicky was MY friend.
Nicky was my best friend.
and I remember never knowing if I would see them again.
They've been fighting this battle for years,
and no one stepped in to help
because you ******* people were so obsessed
with the thought
of them
being perfect.
More perfect than they already were.
Their name was Nick,
Nicky,
not anything else
Nickelodeon, maybe, if you wanted to be formal
but it was hard to be formal around Nicky,
because they weren't someone that took things harshly
they saw beauty in skulls and death
and they saw the horror in the world around them
I'm reading this now because they once told me
that they were feeling suicidal in an AEP room
and they wrote this letter to me
about writing them a poem
at first, I didn't want to do it
because they only said it because
they wanted it read aloud at their funeral
I wanted to say no
because the thought of their death was unbearable
but not impossible.
I should have done more
but instead, I told them that I would
and I started typing.
There was nothing wrong with Nicky.
Not to me. Not to their friends
Nicky was perfect.
Maybe not your version of perfect:
a girl who will sit and do her nails
cross her legs
do everything so easily
but Nicky was never a she
Nicky was and is always a them.
Nicky had no childhood, despite what most of you think
They grew up the moment they were born
into a much too cruel world
with a much too cruel man.
They saw the world as what it really was
and despite what you think, they're not going to heaven
there was never heaven, and they knew this
but no one knew this, did they?
Because did anyone listen?
No. Never. Why would they?
Because what?
Nick was just a person?
Nick was just another person?
NO!
No.
Nick was never just a person.
Nick was an experience that all of you were too
naive to notice or think about, much less see.
Nicky suffered all of their life, and they saw something in this pain
they saw the beauty that most were too busy crying to realize
Nick saw the realism in hurting
Nick was a real person
who never was really alive
just someone who was surviving.
because there's a difference, in case you didn't know.
With Nicky, they took the color from the world
they became a black void, ******* all the happiness possible
maybe now people will see how realistic this is.
Like a willow tree, they fell silent as they crashed against
the ocean of green on the floor
they gave in to the rotting the world puts us through
you would call it growth
but Nicky knew it wasn't growth
it was a chainsaw.
and now, they're gone.
I miss the way they laughed at all of my jokes
I miss the way their hand felt in mine
I miss being with them, even if we were just sitting
in silence
with music, deafening.
Nicky was my friend, and yes, Nick
because they were never a she,
but you wouldn't know that would you?
Are you listening now?
Aug 12, 2021
Aug 12, 2021 at 6:22 PM UTC
Dont mean to toot my own horn;
To shoot my own ****
To pop my own corn...
But I believe I need a pat on the back
Cause I'm madder than a hatter
As a matter of fact
Ransacked and back at it
Attack attack get back you animals
Crack you in the mandible
With an upper cut with words
With what you heard
Preferred hermit crab
Dab at home alone
With Joe Peschi
Freshly squeezed ecstacy
In the strawberry field next to me
Resurrecting complexity
In depth perception is the equivalent to *** to me
Get to be **** with what you sputter out
Sssstutter nnnow that I mmmmention it
Leave you hanging like a suspension bridge
Ascension is essentially but a smidge of what it is
To be star
Who we are to a blind man
On this very night can
Divinely define us
Or confine us
But if you combine whats
Up and what's in
You win infinity times
Subliminal criminal
Killing it for a living now
Separate the syllables
Take what you're giving out
Prescription is refillable
Your own medicine
Your *** is what your head is in
We needed Nicky Tesla
**** a Thomas Edison
**** decrepit specimen
Might've made the mess we're in
A little more avoidable
Maybe make it Enjoyable to be from planet earth
The worst dirt pile I've seen in a while
Squandering potential
Pondering presidential
Candidates made of hate
Divided states of Emergency
Divergency is urgent we
Could be so much more than self importance
Hordes of the masses finally off their *****
And protesting the fact that we aren't but packs of classes
He is me as you are he as you are me and we are all together
Every time
If the weather is fine or not
We got to stop this **** poor metamorphasis
For the better its imperative we live
It's just something that I repeat to me
We cannot add division
If we want to live in peace
Equally.
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 4:00 PM UTC
say that color has the color
of the night, the cold flask.
His father was the father of three years of my life;
You're worried that they did I.
Marked men. mother of man
Both men and women home,
Men and women. Young and old;
young and old, adults, old people
and adults Learn the first and the last of them
Two and a half years in the city
Hector rich on his blog profile;
Brazil regulations.
Spanish and German.
Russian churches in Macedonia
"Barra mundi Page 1, use is good;
Nicky Bush, Greek, Latin, Molly (Moderna)
Day and night, the brightness of the color.
It was called: 1 am furious anger
For it is not yo, What is the river?
then woman
The woman is a woman, as well.
What are the women?
Men and women. children, youth
people, | was. The young people
serve documents
in detail. Money for killing
Our company has 5 branches.
RKK HKK PJouri is proven.
When he was younger.
Brazil and Germany and Russian churches;
Russia's game of "Valentine's Day 1: 1"
Nose officials, phobias, United States
Patton's American Bark
I say there is a straw color
Quiet in the night, besides a vessel.
Three years old, my father's father was my life,
This is what you are worried about poultry
Mark. The mother
After both men and women in the house;
And on women. Young and old;
Young and old, adults, old people |
Learn and Adult, First IT
And ultimates by things first, five hundred thousand,
and two streams of
Hector years ago by the City of the Rich
Blog Profile: Lawn Spanish,
E. Coli in Russian Churches.
Page 1 in twelve world worlds;
His wife, Nicky Bush, Greek, Latin,
Moli (NODERNA) day and night
First speed color
it was called; Furious anger at 1 o'clock | am.
What is the river: because there is no hieroglyph?
Woman is a woman;
good man.
How are you, ladies?
And on women. Children, youth
People, Myself. young people'
Service documents;
Every word of this Money is death.
Our company has 5 branches.
RKK HKK proves PJ is Your I.
When In Reality it Benefits
Brazil and Germany and Russia's Churches;
Russian People's Game "Valentine's Day 1: 1"
Nosy officials fear of the United States
of Barack's American Futon
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC
This now I decide to unleash thought onto this platform
Through this poem
And right now you inspire more
Through the background music when you snore
Your eyes and mouth are shut
But only a minute ago that dragon mouth was spitting fire
Lashing upon my beautiful innocent me
Ridiculing, hurting, stabbing, shooting, crucifying
You said 'pain demands to be felt'
You overwhelm me with this cheap abundant commodity
I guess thats why I love you
Because now I can't sleep
And you are deep in sleep
Dreaming paradise
Whilst I die of pain
Your prescription, the concoction that you provide on an hourly basis
I see the angel in you in your sleep
I hope you come back a real angel
But even if you were a daemon I would still love you
Good night my love
Let me rid myself to sleep too
I tried reading myself to and failed to
Good night my love
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 5:59 PM UTC
He'd lived in the remaining house on the little byway,
The place and its existence somewhat accidental
As it was built as the groundskeeper's cottage
Accompanying a rambling edifice
Built by a former president of the mill,
That once-grand structure gone to rack and ruin
Nothing remaining save the odd bit of foundation
Poking forlornly above crownvetch and milkweed,
Though the lot of the man we'd dubbed the ogre
(The notion that he had an actual name
Not occurring to us at the time,
Though, as Nicky Demmer wisely noted
Whatever it might be, it must be unspoken.)
Was only slightly less unkempt and foreboding,
And it is hard to remember what exactly made him
Something to be feared and avoided at all costs,
Perhaps the combination of height
(Though lessened yet somehow accentuated
By a slight yet perceptible stoop)
And a widow's peak at the top of an unusually high forehead
Bookended by wiry and unruly locks,
Perhaps the fact that he rarely appeared in the daylight,
And then squinting as he turned his head to the sky
In the manner of one who fully expected
That it would fall, Chicken-Little style
But in any case his lawn
Was strictly no-man's land,
And any wiffle ball or frisbee,
Regardless of how new it may be
Or the retribution attached to coming home without it,
Remained behind, mourned but forsaken
And at some point we moved beyond our unease,
Too old for such superstition,
Moving on to other totems, other portents
Though some years later I happened upon his obituary,
Laying out the signposts of an ordinary
Though vaguely underwhelming and melancholy life:
He'd worked on the third shift at the mill all his days,
Thus precluding much of the social commerce
With his fellow man, no Rotary or Odd Fellows rites
To be performed at his service
(Of which there was none, burial being private as well)
And the list of survivors was limited to one daughter
Wholly unknown to us, ostensibly taken elsewhere
By an unmentioned and unmourning mother.
The item, brief and unadorned as it was,
Brought me back to that fretful nine-year-old self,
Though imbued with a greater disquiet,
As I had a deeper knowledge of the finality
Of cold, agate type, among several other things.
Mar 1, 2021
Mar 1, 2021 at 10:45 AM UTC
What I lack is a porpoise in life, or do I mean dolphin?
My head is full of This n’ That, brain all a’clutta,
Joan the Mad married Philip the Handsome, imagine!
Michelangelo designed the Swiss Guard uniform, clever fella!
Yes, landlocked Bohemia once had a navy!
A very dubious Shakespearean titbit,
‘The little dog barks but the caravan passes by’
Chekov, I think, but Star Trek chappie or Russian poet?
Sadly, Virgil hero of the Classics, is now barely known,
All hail the other Virgil! the Colossus of Liverpool!
‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’
No not that version! Carousel you fool!
Ambergris used in perfumes, is present in a whale’s whatsit,
Also, in the **** glands of dogs, but let’s not go there!
Think before buying an expensive bottle, best kept a secret!
Must be the vet’s worst nightmare, I swear!
There was a noble Italian Poet named Count Mario Stanza,
Did you know Nicholas Breakspear is the only English born Pope?
Mario cheekily claimed descent from Catherine of Braganza!
Nicky took the name Adrian IV, very lucky to escape the rope!
Catherine was the wife of Charles 11 of England,
Now this is getting silly! time for a nap I think,
End of history lesson, sorry getting pompous for a split-second!
In need of a large brandy, which tout de suite I will greedily sink!
© Robert Porteus
May 24, 2022
May 24, 2022 at 3:09 PM UTC
We'd referred to it as The Avenue,
Not because it had any pretense of being
Some major thoroughfare
(Indeed it ran for no more than a half-dozen blocks
From the traffic circle at the school building,
Itself de-commissioned for some years now,
To the small bluff at the end of the village
Where buildings ended and trees and fields began,
The view, in our childlike perspective,
What we assumed belonged to the birds and angels)
But because every other roadway
Had been christened with the more plebian "street",
And as the longest and straightest pavement
It was the venue for racing bicycles, skateboards
And anything else with wheels,
(As we later discovered, much to our parents' chagrin)
And certainly we had sent any number of bugs and beetles
To their makers in our mad rush
To reach the road's crest,
And on one horrific occasion, a tiny bird,
Barely past the point of being nurtured in the nest,
Somehow became enmeshed in my spokes
To be flung unceremoniously to the roadside,
It's wings splayed out in a manner
At once almost seraphim-like, yet clearly signaling
That the hatchling in question
(Its species not fully apparent--a pigeon, perhaps,
Or a mourning dove not destined to be part of a pair)
Would never take flight.
I'd looked at it, stunned beyond word or action,
When Nicky Gesters pulled up next to me,
Whispering into my left ear, *Nothing to be done, kid.
Happens all the time. If it wasn't you, woulda been some cat*.
And, bereft of any rationale of my own,
I simply nodded, riding back down the slope
Not to return to the high end of the road for some days,
And when the time comes where some errant wheel,
Something rapacious and feline, or some other tool
Of life's winds and wuthering take me to my rest,
I hope to retain sufficient grace to seek out that bird
To proffer my regrets for my all too extant humanity,
My sad and insufficient pentinence.
Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 4:14 PM UTC