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Yesterday you cried.

Today you can’t stop smiling.

Unpredictable.

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© Paul Nichol

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Of you undressing,

primal anticipation,

excited eyes drawn.

Through unveiled bedroom window

my true character on view.

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© Paul Nichol.  2016

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Superficial stance.

Impatience erodes beauty.

Scarred character.

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© Paul Nichol

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Our harbour beneath lax moonlight

Casts grey timeless shadows

Across smooth silent rock

Of borrowed land

Set tall by youth

Slanted steadfast against

Life’s bitter nature

We cling, fingers chaffed, as

Treasonous tides buffet

The soft under-edge of our existence

Exploiting faults of pride

Fissures in foundations

Seldom explored

Ugly, barnacled,

Unredeemable, aged

Submerged anxieties

The dismissed beauty

Of our intrinsic self

Until

Through salted tears

Clasping bleached handkerchiefs

We wave our lingering farewells

Towards the pitied, eroded quayside

Of carved, chiselled stone

Built of false strengths

Of fear

Of acceptance

Grip wanes

And we are free

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Oh you stubborn fish do not jape me

With ripples, nibbles, gentle wiggles upon my fishing line,

Be bold my friend and welcome sun, do rise above dark reeds

For if this day, we were not to meet, no words would I, for rhyme.

I woke this morn, I gathered tackle, I journeyed to this dankly bank,

With mealtime missed, on empty belly, I’m now eager to depart.

Reveal yourself I do beseech and show to me your fine flank

So I might know your character fish, your beauty, and your heart. 

Fish, for you I baited hook with succulence of worm, spaded I from deep below the ground,

To you I gave him freely fish and you feasted well, at leisurely pace, in little nibbles, a little at a time

Now my hook is light and clean, my rod discarded by a tree, its guiltless line it is rewound

for you are triumphant, defeated I am, so be humble fish, for you are divine.

Oh trusty fish, you languish now in shallows near, deceitfully lit by bloody red sunset

For did I not say my tasty fish friend. I also brought my fishing net.

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© Paul Nichol.  2016

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Indispensable,

that is what you said to us;

you are dead and wrong.

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© Paul Nichol. 2016

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When we are alone,

arousing  adolescence.

Precious, snatched moments.

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© Paul Nichol.  2016