(Note from writers: the following was originally compiled in ‘real time’ as seen on www.poemhunter.com/poem/snub-for-my-blueberry/
We hope the readers enjoy as much as the writers did (again) , this 'off the cuff ' writing collaboration.)
EP: Emancipation Planz and HN: Herbert Nehrlich
There once was a man quite content
he was well past his latter day Lent,
he imagined his life
as a single edged knife
when one day he was stopped by a scent.
Inner sensors reported the news
to the brain, which was soaking up booze.
Will you look at this then
it's a definite TEN
and it looked at you silly recluse.
It was sad but he walked to the Pub
thus foregoing a cognizant rub.
She was gone from his view
and it could have been YOU,
would you give your own spirit the snub?
H.x.. a Rebutt
I sat eating my grub, with yoghurt in tub
along came white spider with web line of love
they tackled with Lent, dismissed penance as spent
drank red wine from the cellar, then laid down content... Dxx
I must ask, do you eat in a tub?
There are spiders (they do have a club)
they will sip of your wine
will you let me opine
it's the web that is always the rub.
I eat bubbles the most,
best of liquid of toast
and squashed in sandwich of club
the sweetest of blueberry snub
tis truly the web that catches the worm
how bout it H.xx, you got a rebut return?
I shall call my rebutt a re-bum
it's the words that so suddenly come.
I invite you my sweet
to some potent mincemeat
and a tumbler of Bundaberg Rum
I much prefer Chianti poured on lace licked panty
butt there was talk way before of waving a hanky
over timing of actions in the sudden on come
you invited so sweetly but tis now midnight.. I run…. Nighx nighx Dxx
I would serve Beaujolais on pink lace
have a hanky nearby, not in place,
and I'd feed you by straw
'till you waver and thaw
we would watch on the telly a chase.
Tis too late so you say, I dispute
may I play the guitar or the flute?
I shall take your old pen
take you back to my den,
you are lovelier even than cute.
I see you came back … but I did run
that midnight madness was poetry fun
and afternoon now brings me back to pH
if I had to balance alkaline or acidic
t’would be on fluid of flute, I would surely take
I think you contracted two cold as ice feet
which prompted a quick and distinctive retreat.
Yes, midnight was joy
I am back now...Ahoy!
Does your kitchen provide for two players the heat?
I have four hot plates upon my stove
Crockery, silver within my treasure trove
My glory box is packed, silky lace, satin sheets
and if you be nice, we could play acrobatic feats
I shall sit on the plate that is smallest in size
and watch as you cook your delectable fries,
you say silk, satin lace
thus you're making a case
for the lunar magician to rise.
Butt I cook only slow in habits of healthy
Good for the soul and mindful of wealthy
Packing apples into cases I doctor away
with magician from cauldron I pour into tray
the freshest of moonshine and milkiest whey
Tis okay, my dear maiden, a slow cooker is fine
as you peel, slice and chop I shall open the wine.
We have moonshine of course
and some whey from our horse
but the ham is still soaking in brine.
I shall busy on then and in the kitchen prepare
Fine soups, then let’s mingle in our lace underwear
from my box, can you take out glory in the crystal so tall
then will you pour bubbles, whilst against the table I call
“Tis time now to come, for we must eat the risen we’ve made
for all is beautifully designed and spectacularly laid”
I shall watch as you wiggle your sensual hips
I don't care all that much about soup, it's your lips
that have captured my vision but yes I will do
what you ask and bring out the good crystal for you.
After dinner we'll share (as we like) a few sips.
Yes, I say yes, we shall take sips back in the tub
Where weaving was started by webs and by grub
and the soak under stars will splash pleasant till dawn
when bluebirds will sing whilst the sun keeps us warm
You remember, we splashed all over the floor
on the deck, with the stars and the Moon as decor,
and we sipped from our lips cold Moet et Chandon
while the touch of your skin turned the magic lights on.
Butt of course and how could we ever possibly forget
with lights, enchanted magic and the spell that we net
that when love sails eternal drawn by dolphins and whales
nature pathways to heavens in rich ladens by infinity trails
Shall we now take our leave from the star-lit night
let the Godess of Heia keep us huddling tight.
As we dream of the fishes, the dolphins and whales
we shall gather the stuff for formidable tales.
Let us take of that leave and on holiday soak
plain love filled in whispers, wrapped up by kind folk,
in the end we farewell with a promised Adieu
while we touch and refresh and forever renew. Dxx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.