Mood:
mischieviousTopic: One of my Poems
My mountainous, white-bearded man
With narrow channels in his nostrils
Snores nightly with loud jerky rattles
My ears need rest and my mind needs sleep
Again he rips the devilish, thundering sound
That threatens to drive me insane
Finally I start to fall asleep
When he has another blow-out
I jump, nearly falling off my bed
I groan and roll over
Is that an airplane over head?
The sonic boom breaking
The sound barrier?
I roll back over and realize
It's just my darling man
His lips are quivering and he
Murmurs words I don't understand
He makes snorting pig sounds
Making me think of the fair last fall
What's that, its morning time?
That's not the tea kettle whistling
It’s just my darling man
If I used a recorder at night
That would be a good punishment
Use it for a torture chamber
Letting him hear it again and again
John Wesley Hardin shot a man once
Just for making these ghastly sounds
I hear the factory noise from down the way
I try to listen to the bangs and booms instead
I don't want to kill my darling man
I rather live with a grizzly bear
He would eat me and put me out of my misery
I take my pillow and tiptoe down the hall
Why am I tiptoeing? He won't awake!
I still hear his rumbling and mumbling
I think of the gun in the closet and...
I listen to the soothing sound
Coming from the factory down the street!
happy
