"niggle" poems
About time,
I've paid my dues I've crossed the line,
This moment I thought would never come,
Is in my grasp, the deed now done.
Don't get me wrong, I loved my Mum,
But all that passed would surely stun
Even a saint or the Lord above,
So tiring being an aimless dove.
Now I'm ready to take the world by storm,
Show them my worth, no longer act forlorn,
The wife I always wanted by my side,
I can finally get into my Kingly stride.
The Little ****** that remains,
Harry's willful character that pains,
I've summoned experts to hear what they might say
To finally obtain a sample of his mysterious DNA.
I'm not claiming he's not mine,
But as Americans would shout, ‘I wouldn't bet a dime’,
Thank goodness I've got my other boy,
A stand-up chap that brings me nothing but pure joy.
As to Camilla, my soulmate from the start,
From whom they never could tear me far apart,
She now stands by me as my Queen,
You saw me beam with joy like a lovestruck teen.
Don't get me wrong,
I'm painfully aware my reign may not be long,
But while I'm here, I plan to make my mark,
Understanding this job is no cakewalk in the park.
I've got the Aussies wanting to jump ship.
The Canadians on their own perennial trip,
The Scots plotting for a Clansman King,
And Parliament seeking me do next to nothing.
Yet I've got a plan,
Something that will surely stun,
Become a multimedia star,
And thus take them all across the bar.
I can jig, dance and sing,
Fly helicopters, do pretty much of anything,
Plant trees, help save our World
How can all of this be thought absurd.
Politicians just blow smoke,
Send their countries near flat broke,
I instead bring Billions in
Collecting smiles from wheresoever I have been.
That said let me enjoy my moment in the sun,
Reflecting on all that's been and done,
My resolve is firm, my duty clear,
My life's work is aimed at all, both far and near.
So rest easy, enjoy the ride,
Sailing smoothly on a flowing tide,
Over a thousand years in the making
My oath is one of giving and not taking.
May 8, 2023
May 8, 2023 at 11:31 AM UTC
there's a mafia don
operating on the verse's patch
if anyone ticks him off
the eraser does a fast dispatch
you'll be completely rubbed out
with an instantaneous flick
by his quick 48 revolver's
rapid fire trigger click
the Sicilian mobster
is a regular Al Capone
*clearing they who ******
at his most tactile bone
Luigi strikes fear on
issuing a list of target dots
which so irritate him in
the imprecise spots
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 9:12 PM UTC
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Let’s see – add Colin Dexter, John Updike
And a few pounds of Graham Greene, perhaps
John Steinbeck, Rex Stout, and Ford Madox Ford
Packed in foam peanuts with T. S. Eliot
The Little Office of the Blessed ****** Mary
Olivia Manning, Henrietta’s War
“Leaf by ****** for a few ounces more
Tolkien and Lewis, those Oxford scholars -
Free shipping with orders over fifty dollars
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 4:13 PM UTC
Sometimes a person gets carried away.
Sometimes it becomes impossible to control yourself.
Sometimes you don’t want to keep your cool.
We’ve all been there, it starts as a little ******
A low level buzz that starts right at the base of your skull.
It spreads down your neck, across your shoulders
It slithers down your arms to the palms of your hands.
It tingles.
It grows stronger and your palms tingle all the more, desperate to take action.
You clench your fists to quench their thirst, but that just gives you ideas.
Your body is alive,
That little ****** has evolved, coursing through every part of you.
Jaw tightens, you contain it.
Sometimes you don’t want to.
Sometimes it becomes impossible to control yourself.
Sometimes a person gets carried away.
A myriad of expletives and insults rush forward.
You strike out, a beautiful and self righteous detox.
Anger.
It’s an eloquent little ****** isn’t it?
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 5:28 PM UTC
Lord, if you exist and have ears
(neither of which
proposition is entirely clear yet),
let’s make a deal.
(I know prayers ideally aren’t
supposed to involve bargaining,
but this is really a poem
so I’ve got some wiggle room to ******
Bring a little peace to these instruments
who call themselves your kids,
and I swear by all things you deem holy
(since you made everything,
I guess that’d be the whole shebang)
to give myself up to your wills and won’ts.
Of course you’ll have to clue me in
where there’s a Will,
(the won’ts are pretty well covered)
whether buried in endless musts
****** thus by musty books,
or hidden in plain-sighted laws
governing the broadest range of spirals
from when the first shoot knows
it’s time to poke its budding nose
above an earth that’s lost the frosty bite
to when our yellow dwarf explodes
and grows a giant with nebulous arms
stretching outward to catch its dying breath.
(I’d cast a vote for the latter,
but my still-small voice has long been
to the far reaches, outnumbered.)
Jan 23, 2011
Jan 23, 2011 at 8:05 AM UTC
(keep lips firmly)up on my lips parted
does dawn sprawl about the grass
and feet mingle in the blades
or hours peeling back
to reveal 1
immolating fester
shoved upon my chest
your fingers and your *******
****** o'er my face
as i complete between you
one rising quickly shout
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 4:43 AM UTC
Monday
Its going to start
The diet
I'll try it
No
I'll blast it
How hard can it be
Nutrition
Carbs
Vitamins C through to Z
Go for a run
That'll be fun
Join a boot-camp 3 times a week
10 burpys
10 timed runs
10 press-ups
Bring it on
The short lived enthusiasm starts to wain
I work in an office everyday on the train
The mornings hurt
Oh the pain!
I'll try it again when the urge starts to ******
When the clothes start to pinch and its time for a wiggle
Everyday life just getting in the way
When the office is going for a lunchtime run I'd rather just sit
Bring on that day when its just a click of the wrist
Yeah, I know, whatever,
Far from Fit
JJB
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 7:16 AM UTC
You're a little ****** in the back of my brain,
Growing until I can't feel my feet.
You're a world away from me right now,
But time told me we were close.
I long for your warmth,
But feel colder when you leave.
A constant worry drumming through my head,
Feeling blood surging through my veins.
I tiptoe the stairs and fall quickly to bed.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 5:29 PM UTC
Feelings,
those insidious little things.
They ****** make you squirm,
sneak in unawares,
make nebulous all that is firm.
Feelings,
those traitorous little things.
They lift you up, make you float
then change without a warning
and sink the **** boat.
Feelings,
those warm little darlings.
With you through harmony or strife,
your companions, they let you
revel in the drama called life.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 1:53 AM UTC
All that is mine I carry with me.
My frosted spectacles
With the tiniest crack on the surface
Just enough to make them special.
My leather wallet
Beaten by years of rain and use.
Inside, a polaroid of the one I consider divine.
My keys
For what I do not exactly remember.
They stay nestled in the back of my pocket, rusting slowly.
My lyric book,
Complete with unfinished ideas that ****** at the
Back of my head, pleading to be finished one day.
My Memories,
Which have a repugnant smell of loss
That I embrace with open arms.
My ‘Dreams’,
A potent synthesis of reoccurring nightmares
Fundamentally unrequited in its presence.
My Addictions,
Virulent Vampires leeching droplets
off who I adore so dearly.
My Love,
You too are being ripped away
So quickly.
I think for now
I shall stare at my lyric book wistfully
Through my spectacles, hoping for redemption.
Perhaps one day I will again be able
To show you the Polaroid I hold so dearly
And finally get to use these keys.
All that is mine, I carry with me;
Hopefully I could one day
carry her too.
Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 6:38 PM UTC
The windows are only six inches wide
And just under two feet long.
More of a slit to the outside world
Than actual viewing panes.
All day long I'd been able to ignore
The traffic that constantly passed.
Yet a ****** of awareness
****** my head up
At the exact moment
You walked by.
And I remembered
How back in the day
When we were inseparable,
I could always pick you out of a crowd;
How back in the day
When we read each others' thoughts,
I always knew when you entered the room;
How back in the day
When we would fall asleep side by side,
Your hand always found mine.
My hand tingled for a millisecond
In tactile remembrance.
But as quickly as it came, it faded,
And I turned my eyes away,
For what right have I to such memories?
They were memories we made together,
And together we should have kept them.
But you chose another to love instead
And so moved on from me,
From keeping any of our memories.
And though it be painstaking,
I've followed your lead
And slowly but surely
Let go of each fading memory from my mind.
But before I let this last one go,
I wonder in passing:
Do you still have that ****** too?
For when I looked up thru the window,
So did you.
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
Have you ever had a bond
That no one can shake
No matter the distance
Not even heaven can break
She's your breath in
As you breathe out
Her pride for you shining
Taking away your doubt
That ****** in your heart
She fillls with her love
As she sends down raw courage
With kisses from above
If you listen closely
Just enough to hear
You will hear her voice so clearly
Whispering in your ear
She tell you to be strong
your made of powerful stuff
She's saw how hard it's been for you
But she knows that you are tough
She knows that for certain
She remembers everything that you taught her
But how can you ever get over
The sudden death of your darling daughter?
(C) Julie Murphy
Jun 23, 2018
Jun 23, 2018 at 11:57 PM UTC
Here
at ground level
there are several challenges
the least not being
living
which is a dying art
I lived with Crusoe
or was it Caruso?
they both sang when the morning
came idling along.
That was a story of which I was a part of
which was a part of my living that
I'm dying not to think of,
here
at sub zero
in every chapter a hero is born.
It feels like a Sunday and
I'm not sure why,
the sky looks like a bible
blackened with age
I suppose that's one more stage
in the dying to live or the living to die
and I'm not sure why it should be,
it was definitely Caruso
I know
because
he spoke Italian so well.
I feel better now,
sometimes things ****** away
all day and give me no peace
until I find the answer.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 1:47 AM UTC
Confined in a bubble of my own deliberate making,
I realise that the world was never truly beautiful at all.
Piercing hatred lies between the common lines
Of those who never learned to love; singes the edges of the world's
Underlying issues kept hidden by men who never learned
Discipline by the hand of a woman.
Faint glimmers of unaccepted brilliance remains repressed at the
Mere thought of becoming complicated and unusual;
Incinerate the minds that cannot learn to love due to
Short life expectancies and the ever-growing lands of shadow among
Their kind.
Prickling shades of green and orange ****** at the unwanted low-lifes
And proud "healthy eaters"; questions controlling any sudden
Movements made towards what humans deem normality to be.
...And the ongoing inquisitions of both and either sides of the Earth's
Lost children and the preachers of Good News; wars controlling the
Climates of our wellbeings and identities for the sole information
Of so-called society.
All of these exhibits obvious, all overused in many ways by many
Other bubble-makers like me.
I fear we shall too be pierced one day.
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC