A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.

but aren't they all random?

Friday, July 27, 2012

joys of moaning

Man

moaning, I haven't thought about that
in ages. I used to moan

when I was a kid, and sick and it hurt, when
I was a kid and nobody was around. But I remember one time
a few years back, I was sick

and in quite a lot of pain, and I suddenly remembered
how I used to moan

I was home, alone so I just thought
I'd give it a try

experimentally

Next thing I knew, I was lying in bed,
moaning and I didn't realize my girlfriend
had come home. Now,

she knew I was in a bad way
since that morning, but here she was, home
probably alarmed, initially - her "big strong man" lying in bed
MOANING? But the longer she stood there, I am sure
- listening to me lying there, oblivious to her presence, moaning
not loud, just sort of low and continuously?

Finally she put her hands on her hips:
"OH SHUT UP YOU BIG BABY"

I shot back "FUCK YOU!

IT FEELS GOOD TO MOAN"

It does feel good to moan.
I mean, you can't go around doing it
all the time. And it's no panacea
- you still feel horrible, but

the hum and vibration and airflow
or something
is soothing to your pain. Your body
recognizes an attempt is being made
to comfort it,
like when you hold a distressed infant
high on your chest, and jostle
the poor dear thing

saying "JJUUUUJZSH, jjuujzsh jjuujzsh jjuujzsh!
Jjuuujzsh, jjuujzsh jjuujzsh jjuujzsh!"
until the baby's "waaaaaah" sort of
stretches out lazily and trails off.

Poor baby.

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