Tale of a man

there was a man
that I once knew
just as charming
as he was shrewd

lasses fond of him
there were
quite a few
so eager to fetch
every bone
that he threw

but alas
none of them ever
knew
his thirst quenched
he would soon
turn cruel
and cast away they’d be
In fresh morning dew

there would never be
something old
something new
nor something
borrowed
let alone blue
forever
would they look
for the sixpence
in their shoe

© Nikki


Sans toi

Tu me dis que moi
je fus tes vacances d’été,
à chaque fois.
Que tu fus ravi de te sentir
si calme, si proche de moi.
Que je ne me rendis pas compte
comme je fus spéciale pour toi.
Mais me dire que tu m’aimas,
jamais tu n’y arrivas.
Piègé dans la cage
de tes doutes tu tournas.

J’aurais tant aimé que
sur ces vacances, pour moi
ne souffla pas un mistral
si capricieux, si froid.
Que là où nous fûmes
j’amais le soleil
ne se coucha.
Que les dents de mes peurs
ne rongèrent sans cesse
mon coeur qui se brisa.

J’aurais tant voulu
te sentir vraiment m’aimer
ne fusse qu’une fois,
t’entendre dire que
chaque nuit tu me voulais
dans tes bras, tes draps.
J’aurais tant aimé avoir eu
au moins ces souvenirs-là,
des chauffe-coeurs pour
ces soleils couchants
ces nuits, cette vie
sans toi.

© Nikki


The peacock

the laughter too loud
like a mouthful of stones
the words far too pompous
and rarely his own

the hidden threat flashing
in his disfiguring grin
the tongue mostly loosened
by the finest of gins

expecting swift service
at his every whim
any insolence greeted
by his stare, long and grim

strategically pacing
in his overpriced shoes
throwing skittish glances
at every mirror that looms

for the glaringly vain face
when caught in the light
surely would set afire
his web of feathers so bright

© Nikki