I Got My Nickle Back |°|°|°|°|°|°|°|

    (Title is an insider- for N.E.)

A poem in Anglisch tradition

And she in the light of adolescence
Being kind, warm and fair there
Sunlight glass and window’s pain
How clearly ready for wåår she’d be

Hair destined to wrap in Samsonite
Locks to dread to adorn her head
Calling on calling her in the season
Winter, Spring and Summer to Fall

Worlds of turning, moons away
The story starts of a destined baby
Lifted high and then higher away
The child’s called “Nickle” for play

Roam your heart, heart as home
Every step she she took ne’er alone
Passing years in this chronicle I am
To display the sheer fabric her’s in

Off from a dock a short wood walk
Onto a ship scheduling a  fierce dip
Marigold mind and a rosary heart
From the Earth scheduled to depart

Clear and clean, the water saltine
Blue and brisk the sky and breeze
New friends and chores for brutes
Come back in for coffee and cards

The sea is forever the tears of God
Once to destroy destroying men
Blue and grey and sway and billow
Birds look for dummy fish to suck

Why can’t every moment be so?
Peaceful before chaos red wreck?
Why was noone given a playbook?
Why did some remain, some go?

Up from the sea, I want my Nickle
Don’t drop her down into the sea
Take her to see everlasting?
I think that’s counterproductive

So, no I don’t know what she felt
I guess it was something like now
For now she is partly part-ocean
On land she swim in our tears?

Case and the point of sweet Nickle
Where she laid hold of age frailty
She beheld aged heart of her hero
And makes sure heroes are unalone

She is rain, she is fire and wind too
What she rides is out there
But not many speak of it loudly
But I will point out myself what is

An ode to human beings in a tumultous and ferocious world in our MINDS. Blessings to those who can do fear intervention and have the power to dispense peace like happy bullets to wash away the pain of the day of the slayer.

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2 thoughts on “I Got My Nickle Back |°|°|°|°|°|°|°|

  1. I have no words- I not a master of them as you… Precious gift… Makes one feel special- even undeserving so- renewed faith in man- as they, until now have never produced, words, song, poem and such… Hope is given and received….

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