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Nick Barnsley Poem
Why not go naked, why not go nude?
Don't be a prude, so shocked, it's not rude.
We were born naked, we'll leave that way too,
The worms will have chewed us unclothed once their through.
Feel the delightful warm sun on your skin,
Getting an all over tan is no sin.
Go out in your garden as nature intended,
Say 'hi' to the neighbour, they won't be offended.
Take a stroll through the woods, sans all, in the buff,
Feeling twigs underfoot is such riveting stuff.
Open the door in the nude, don't be shy,
The caller will smile, oh please give it a try!
So girls get those pants off, and men give a shout,
Of joy as you walk around with your bits out!
Copyright © Nick Barnsley | Year Posted 2009
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Nick Barnsley Poem
An abundance of zips, leather and whips,
Full length tatoos and piercings through lips,
Above and below, some off, some on show,
The next time the ball's on you really should go.
How delightfully they serve, to those with the nerve,
The passions and dreams of the discerning perve.
See the waxen legged man in stilletoed high heel.
And the bare breasted woman who wants you to feel.
Try the electric charged probe, come on have no fear,
It's so de rigeur, cat whips were last year.
Genitalia of all forms, sex and size,
Is flashed at the bash, it's a treat for the eyes,
So come one, come all to the grand rubber night,
Leave your worries behind have a sensory delight.
It's nice, naughty fun for one, three or two,
You'll see me there naked - I'd love to see you!
Copyright © Nick Barnsley | Year Posted 2009
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Nick Barnsley Poem
The snow fell in Dewsbury Moor overnight,
They woke up at lunch to a horrible sight,
The snow had flowed through the broken gates,
And roads were blocked all across the estates,
The giros had still not arrived after ten,
So wailing was general within the crack den.
The bin bags piled up to the lower window,
Obscured by the grime-defying, beautyfying snow.
The wind whistled through the boarded up seams,
Of windows and roused men from opiate dreams,
While weary-eyed women with mascara'd tears,
Tend to their children, three in four years.
But the memories stay as the snow melts away,
How beautiful Dewsbury Moor looked today!
Copyright © Nick Barnsley | Year Posted 2009
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Nick Barnsley Poem
Happy hour, two for one,
This is how we have our fun,
Make up sorted, dresses new,
Shoes supplied by Jimmy Choo,
Perfect perfume, perfect tan,
Now all we need's the perfect man.
Hit the town at half past seven,
Then hit the floor around eleven,
Dance to music thumping loud,
Lose yourself within the crowd,
Let your worries swirl away,
Forget the work of yesterday,
Forget the things you have to buy,
Forget harsh words that made you cry,
Remember how you felt when you,
Were eighteen and all this was new.
Drink on now 'til we turn back time,
Our vodka fuelled dance feels sublime,
Those dancing feet stamp out the stress,
And each girl feels a dream princess,
For one night only we can star,
In our own film, here in this bar.
Copyright © Nick Barnsley | Year Posted 2009
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Nick Barnsley Poem
Sur la plage in France,
I thought I'd found romance,
My olive skinned beauty with cascading hair,
Smiling so sweetly, I tried not to stare,
Her body was bare but for a peach thong,
I was there naked, she saw nothing wrong,
We spoke in a broken half-French, word by word,
But thoughts unspoken were louder still heard,
I said 'I'm Nick' and she said 'I'm Celeste',
Oh Celeste, as you rubbed sun oil onto my chest,
Your eyes they were burning, they encaptured me,
More sparkling, more blue, than the Cote D'Azur sea,
I longed for your neck to feel my kisses sweet,
So I looked at you not as I massaged your feet,
Our chaste romance ended before it began,
Your boyfriend returned and I cowardly ran.
Copyright © Nick Barnsley | Year Posted 2009
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Nick Barnsley Poem
St Therese, servant of God, gentle little flower,
Shine on us your radiant light and guide us in this hour.
All your suffering on Earth you bore unflinching, uncomplaining,
Help us who now suffer here, stop our faith and love from waning.
Teach us how to follow your humble 'Little Way',
To do our best at everything and thank God every day.
You vowed to spend your heaven on Earth, and let a shower of roses fall,
Miraculous cures now speak of your worth, oh you great helper of us all.
Now your relics leave Lisieux and journey to us for the faithful to see,
Great St Therese, I will be one down on my knees, please pray for me.
Copyright © Nick Barnsley | Year Posted 2009
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