Nicked Poems | Examples

Parasocial Relationship: What Remains Is the Latch

I’ve kept the bone-ash circle open—
chalked in wax traced from your last reply,
the one you coughed out sideways
between a mirror and an echo,
Just to reiterate, it read. 
(Though you’ve unsent it now—
the smoke still mouths it back.)

The salt forgets which door to guard,
whether you're enemy or friend.
My tea leaves knot themselves
into nooses. The knife won’t keep
its edge unless I say your name
with my mouth full of soot. You know
who you are. 

We only spoke three times—
I still remember your laugh. 

I burned your coat—
the one already nicked at the cuff,
lined with lint and one of my hours.
The smoke limped east,
then circled back.

I still leave the latch loose.
Not for you—
just in case
some ghost with your gait
remembers how
my spine once knocked
like a drum left running.

Nicked Elfchen

          Claws 
         nick me
healing my ailment;
 A quick love bite
          playful.

Lucky

Lucky wasn’t.
Lucky was his nickname.
Lucky played around.
Lucky sunk his head into the dresser.
Knock Knock.
“Who’s there?”
The bed stopped rocking
and answered the emergency call.
The next day was sunny
and Brother D was working.
Brring…brring…
Yes, Lucky wasn’t.
He played around the recliner
and nicked his knee.
“What do you mean it’s another emergency?”
Twice in twenty-four, he scored.
Lucky was his nickname.
Lucky wasn’t.

Writing Poems About Stolen Liquor

A small vial,
I’ve nicked it,
A bottle of tequila,
Aren’t I a delinquent,

My heart is racing
Against my mind,
What a craze
To be foolish and hungry,

Must be clever,
even more cunning,
I’ll Regret this forever?
Never know ‘till I try…

Can’t forget the promise
I’m leashed to,
Said I wouldn’t again...
Now where to?
	
Maybe i’ll just tell him,
He’s doing the same kinda,
Even last night,
He told me if I felt up to it…

Cupid Epiphany

She longed for the touch - of a caring man
who understood her poetry - be her biggest fan
She waited several decades and many star lit nights
just to feel his hands - in afternoon delights
She yearned for a man - but never did he come
Cupid shot his arrow and only nicked his thumb
She once believed in Love and hoped with all her heart
for a caring honest man - but cupid forgot this part
She spent many nights and days and weeks alone
cursing stupid cupid - for leaving her on her own
She thought about the moral – that this poem brings
an epiphany arose – Cupid lost his wings.

A Seasonal Love

I loved him in a Summer's breeze,
though Summer ripened into Fall.
His Winter arms, a cooler squeeze,
a chill became an April squall.

A season's moment left ungrasped.
I thought of love, but love is blind.
Its daydreams easily unclasped.
Untended, quickly they unwind.

He left in Summer, with no glance;
his mythful "white horse" ran away.
My heart, he nicked with paper lance.
I can't recall his face today.

Promises penned in Summer's air
are lost as they waft everywhere.

March 20, 2023
for "A Simple Poetry Contest" poetry contest
by John Lawless

Magician

he wove his spells meticulously
constructed each with loving care
each component ingredient chosen
from the very best that there were
and of course his care was rewarded
his fame just grew and grew and grew
but he had a secret ambition
that only he and I  knew

from his inter dimensional office
he could hop through time and space
gloat at the awe and wonder displayed
on his primitive audience collective face
and he travelled worlds and eras
revelled in his universal fame
enjoyed the sense of power
inspired by his worshipped name

but dimension  security enforcement
was rapidly closing in on his crime
for his moving skills back and forth
was playing heck with congruent time
he knew his days were numbered 
but his preparations were all but made
to achieve his yearned for ambition
the final plans were all but laid

with just mega seconds to its fruition
he was very sadly and deviously tricked
into revealing his current location 
and was very quickly nicked
he never achieved his ambition
it remained his secret as well
of course I knew the details
but I promised not to tell

Death By Hemorrhoids

Here lies James Jacob McInerny
Died of hemorrhoids at forty-three
Sick of something nobody gave,
Scratched himself into an early grave
Nicked his bud while trying to shave.

Written November 6, 2022

The Missing Veil Ii

This surely can't be right
I'll have to take it as a slight 
Where is her lacy veil of flies?
Woven from years of our lies
It's gone missing from her face!?
This I'm hoping is only a phase...
Sears my eyes to see her like this
She surely seeks to end my bliss 
Why even let her loose in our midst 
Isn't there a law we can lean against 
Oh dear God! What's going on now?
What an ungodly sound we allow! 
It appears she's trying to speak!
I mean, to even have the cheek!?
Is she pretending to be human?
A fake siren bringing a bad omen 
And what's that rolling down her cheek?
Didn't anyone even bother to check?
Quick, let the cops in! over here!
She's gone and nicked a real tear!

Take That

Little Miss Take would steal anything
She’d steal from a pauper, she’d steal from a King
Don’t show her a bell if it goes ding a ling
For when you’re not looking she’ll half inch its ring

Little Miss Take does not like to pay
She knows what she likes and she’ll whisk it away
She’d steal the moon as it slept in the day
She’s barred from the grotto, she nicked Santa’s sleigh

Little Miss Take if she needs to be fed
Will nab eggs and bacon and butter and bread
And getting it cooked won’t befuddle her head
She’ll just nick the camping stove out of your shed

‘Little Miss Take is my name,’ she once said
But she wasn’t named as a thief, but instead
’twas only a quick drunken fumble in bed
And her mum and her dad hadn’t planned to get wed


[If Adam Hargreaves would like to get his hands on
this material (or to sue me) I can be contacted through
Soup Mail... or any half way decent lawyer]

Belle of the Cell

There once was a brash barmaid named Belle
Her virtue she would selflessly sell
	she was nicked by the cops
	for illegal house stops
She now spends her spare time in a cell

Luminary Bella

On calfskin created, a beauty in youth!
A master’s creation, none can dispute!
Her auburn tresses and complexion fair!
Who created her image, who can declare?
Italian princess or cashier from Bolton? 
Either way for me, the image is golden!
He can knock up a Moran in half of an hour?
And fool all the pros, even the most dour?
White lead was a tile, nicked from a roof?
An unlikely tale with no logic or proof!
So what do you think, the swiftest forgery?
Or really a princess, drawn by Da Vince?



https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Bella_Principessa

Covid Christmas

(Foreword: don’t know the score elsewhere, but the UK has a rule of six... which is the number of people who can gather as a group. Unless they’ve changed it... again).



My sister, my brother, my father, my mother
Came round Christmas Eve and we chose to stay in
We sat round the table with old auntie Mabel 
She’s slightly unstable but always brings gin.

About half past seven to Jesus in heaven
We said a wee prayer then we drank until late
But thanks to the drinking, we weren’t really thinking
And some bloody fool lit a fire in the grate

With much drunken banter we talked about Santa
At midnight we all heard a sound on the roof
But with no sin in me, I called up the chimney
Don’t send Rudolph down or he’ll get a burnt hoof

Then out from the ashes poor Santa Claus dashes
And patted the burns where the fire had licked
Then there was a din and the door was kicked in
The cop said that’s seven and you lot are nicked

The Halloween Dream

it's the night before Halloween
I tossed and turned before
I managed to fall asleep
As I slepted I began to run
I looked back and fell
While I was down, I was
Attacked by several ghosts
I was so afraid that the 
hair on my head stood up
I got away only to fall
Into a spider's web
As the spider gets closer
I got tangled, only to be
Nicked on the arm, as drops
Of blood falls to the ground
leaving a nasty trail, causing 
Me to be followed by something
Unknown to me
Suddenly, I woke up screaming
As I opened my eyes
I saw a figure standing
Beside my bed, after I focused
My eyes I saw a vampire
I tried to run but was paralized
He bites my neck, then says
Happy Halloween

Crystal Ball With a Nick

There is a small sliver of a piece missing;  it is here somewhere
Waiting to be discovered, to be accepted. I search with my angel,
Determined to see what she has in mind for me, my heart leaps.
Effervescent crystal ball seems more mine now, more personal.

A tiny piece of refracted crystal now found, speaks to my heart.
Telling me things I did not know I knew, but I am convinced of accuracy.
Slivering off was a God-thing, this crystal ball needed to be nicked.
I readily forgive the instigator, for he was an accidental soul helper today.

He was unknowingly part of the master plan to enlighten me further.
I put my tiny nicked piece down onto ball's black velvet tablecloth.
She winks at me and blinks twice. Verification to my soul she is alive.
I am confident that now I will have all my questions answered.

How is heaven, Mother? The crystal's aura glows in rainbow colors.
Do you get to see father, Mom?  She shuts down hard, turning dull.
Just like my mother used to shut down fast in front of our father.
I am amazed and delighted; the master plan is working well.

• Short Nicked Poems
• Famous Nicked Poems
• Best Nicked Poems
• Read Nicked Poems
• Long Nicked Poems
• Nicked Quotes