Short Nub Poems

Love soul never fade  Body beauty blow over  Spontaneous nub...

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Let’s give him the nickname of Sayles.
In suit, he does chomp at his nails.
Preoccupied schlub
gnaws down to the nub.
A shame as he chews at details.

7/14/2022

Wow! True story!...

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                     (Rhymed Senryu)

   
                         Poetry's Grub



                   Tired, worn to the nub
                   Part of a poetry hub.
                   Soul food is our grub!
 


                           9/4/2021




...

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On our lips from the start
              to a nub that we seek,
                 first our mother’s
                    then lovers’,
                and others repeat.

          On our lips in the end
             to the One up above,
                through our lips
                   in a whisper,
       “Take me home, God of love.”...

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Guided by the writer's hand
it skates across page after page,
in complete abandon, 
relishing the journey.

A short visit now and then 
to the cut of the blade,
its red-lacquered coat 
shredded to shavings.

Down to the nub, its eraser gone,
a last soft gasp,
a Frisbee fling into the trash.

Its life springs forth
each time a reader
walks through the pages....

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Listen to poem:

Water is the essence of me.
Without water, who would I be?
My wet milieu, a sea within.
Water is life's matrix for kin.

The ocean is life's wellspring hub. 
My cells are bathed in saline nub.
A bag of sea within my skin.
Water is life's matrix for kin

I live beside the sea, and swim, 
To worship water with a hymn.
Welcoming each day to begin!
Water is life's matrix for kin....

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The ancient Greek philosopher
Diogenes of Snopé,
if he were alive today
would be thought quite dopé.

Of the school of Cynics,
it’s said he lived in a bathtub;
even fellow Greeks thought
he had lost his thinking nub. 

But then he was eccentric.
They say he went about 
the marketplace with a lit lamp,
on the scout

for an honest man.
Imagine if he lived today,
he’d need a flood light, 
wouldn’t you say?...

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lift this burden to midnight skies

midnight skies who conjure up midnight lies

midnight travels scream midnight whys

poets moan midnight siqhs

as poetry grieves a poet's midnight cries

so what if i've earned a bronze hand

i'll just paint beautiful prose with my left nub

but first i'll unscrew the bulb, 

or can i perfect this 14th line in the dark?

the pen marks me, targets me

i mean him

well forgive him

i mean me........

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I was walking home
When I found a little cub,
I was scared to touch it for its mouth could have foam.
But, I decided anyways to give it a little rub
But it ran off after a giving me a little nub.

I decided to keep moving on
Thinking of sounds ever so soothing to listen upon
When out of nowhere my parents gave me a call
And I automatically thought they’d yell going “where are you Ron!”
So I answered and told them I’d be late for while walking, I had a fall....

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Now here's a sweet little ditty
About a hungry cute kitty
She can’t get enough
Of that yummy stuff
She’s fat and she’s oh, so pretty!

This Kitty just loves a good rub
all over, but more on the nub
So pet her just right
She’ll purr day or night
Caresses...this kitty won't snub

If kitty’s not fed right away
Then pussycat’s grumpy all day
You'd better not tease
Just feed her, now please
And enjoy this kitty at play! ;) 

Eileen Manassian

A repost of a deleted poem....

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