A Selection of my Poems

The first poem, "Pebbles", is what I suppose could be termed "romantic verse". I've especially tried to capture the balance between sensitivity - the desire and yearnings of a woman, and the harsh realities of nature, - the environment in which she has to live her life, (reflected in her physical surroundings); and also the treatment to which she is subjected, - cold, unfeeling - an almost unkind manifestation of nature, combined with insensitivity of man - (This is hinted at by his concern for his bike). The warm desire of femininity shines through however, and gives an upbeat ending to the piece.

Pebbles

Shag me in the moonlight, Mr Johnson,
Worry not where thou hast parked thy bike
For it shall be found at daybreak
Once the chill of night hath receded...

Earth's satellite casts reflected beams,
Lights a-twinkling off the sea
Illuminating my own lusty globes.
Mirrors of that majestic orb above.

Take me on the beach,
Yea - take me on the beach, and take me again,
(But not the pebbly bit
'Cos that's where my arse got bruised on Wednesday).

More of my Poetry...

Chicken

A leaflet came through my door today.
It spoke of many things,
Like bananas on special offer
And half-price chicken thighs.

The local supermarket sent them out
Delivered with the post.
I couldn't help thinking it was useless junk mail,
(Whilst making a mental note of the chicken thighs bit).

Where were the lines I craved from you?
The perfumed pages that used to be,
Oft commencing "Dear Eric"
And ending "Much Love, J".

A leaflet came through my door today,
It showed so many lines on "special offer".
But more than that,
It highlighted the once special lines that came from you
Which sadly come no more.

Spam

Thanks for the email
That email of love.
I especially appreciated the jpeg of your bottom
And will treat it with respect,
Having stored it in a new folder
Created on my hard drive.
I've named the folder "Net Babe"
For that is how I think of you.
So, once again, thanks
Nicely-bottomed Net Babe.
Please email me again.

Kylie (An appreciative A-Z).

Amazing bum! (Could definitely excite).
Firm globes held in jeans... Kylie!
Like moist nectarines (or peaches), quivering!
Raunchy singing too - under violins, (with xylophones), yodeling zealously.

Untitled

Eric Postlethwaite's pet budgie
Apparently went far.
When he chose to clean its cage
But left the door ajar.
It flew out through the window,
Then on into the night,
Where a wintry frost descended
To seal the poor thing's plight.
They found it on the lawn next day
The creature lies there still.
Now Eric grieves, consoled by just
The stack he's saved on Trill.

Alone in the Crowd

"Hands up who likes me".
That's what I wish to say
Whilst sitting at the bar
As locals chat away.

"Hands up who likes me".
I want to shout it loud,
Then people, they might say
"Oh Nige, you've done us proud".

"Hands up who likes me".
But, the words they just won't come,
Cos secretly, I fear, to them,
I'm just a drunken bum.

With My Blessing

So you've asked for the hand of my Sonia,
Though I know for a fact that she'll con ya,
I've lived for the day
That I give her away
So I'll shower me blessings upon ya!

The Sting

Death
Where is thy sting?
....
Ah..
OK...
So which one's the sock-drawer, Smart-Arse?

The Blind Barber

A barber, who's from Liverpool,
(And still lives close to there),
Alas, was take blind
Not just in one eye, but the pair;
But still his work he carries on
As though he didn't care.
I must say I admire him, but he ain't getting his scissors anywhere near MY barnet!

Moon

Oh Moon!
Orbiting above,
Capital-lettered satellite
(As that is your actual name,
Unlike the encircling orbs of other planets
Such as Mars),
Phobos and Deimos are the moons of Mars. Correct!
How strange that you were not blessed with a name
At the font of Mother Nature - astronomy division.
Poets have used you in their poetry.
Writers, in their writing;
And oft you've been romantically linked,
Whether illuminating lust-filled romps in country fields,
Or the splendidly ornate bedrooms of royalty.
You know no boundaries of class
When maidens' breasts you shine upon.
Curved, heaving, passionate mounds.
For that you are to be admired,
Your globular shape brings carnal imagery
To the most creative of writers.
You truly are - as Showaddywaddy put it
"The Moon of Love".

Common Man

Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim, and Jamie,
Were all most erstwhile friends of mine
Whose names were all the samey.
But Jack, Jo, Jeff, Jules, Jenny, Jill and Jed
Had differing names - although they shared
The letter with which they led.