Poetry Collection – by Nikki Knight

Taste

 

You are—

My favorite critic

Applying the most stringent of criteria

Yet making the fairest of decisions

You won’t speak your mind

Until you’ve taken the time

To listen

 

Soaking in each syllable

Contemplating the meaning

You wait for my words with bated breath

Measuring the breadth and depth

Of every idea and thought expressed

 

You judge me the best.

 

You savor the flavor of every word and pause—

To detect the effect of every cause

You delightfully devour with immense intent

Each

Morsel

 

Purposefully processing,

Filtering and refining my words until they become—

Tiny grains and granules

You press to your palate

And smooth with your tongue

Attempting to discern

Each and every ingredient

In my soul that I have served you—

Just to be certain

Never assuming

You consume me

And you reverently relish the taste.

 

Venus Is Off Her Meds

 

I asked you a simple question

Expecting a straightforward answer

But you tip-toed around the subject

Like a skillful ballet dancer

 

“Do you mean it?” I asked.

“I said it,” you replied.

Somehow that’s not enough for me

I’m still not satisfied

 

Are you really telling me

That you mean everything you say?

Or are you implying you said what I wanted you to

So the issue would go away?

 

If I go with Theory One,

You will ask me why I doubt you

Make it seem as though I’m just insecure

So this won’t have to be about you

 

But if I ask if you’re just appeasing me,

What, really, could you say?

If you say no, I will still wonder

If you say yes, then back to ‘A’…

 

 

‘A’ being the original question

The one you hoped that I’d forgotten

Since you’d nearly climbed your way out of it

But I’ve pulled you back to the bottom

 

“Do you meant it?”

“I said it.”

 

So…tell me, help me understand

Imagine you’re drawing a Venn diagram

Of things you say and things you mean

Is there any overlap?  Any space between?

Would your diagram have just one circle or two?

That’s simply all I’m asking you

 

It’s really not difficult

It’s actually quite painless

No need for you to act

Like your head’s in Uranus

 

Yes, men are from Mars

Women are from Venus

One overthinks everything

While the other strokes his penis

 

Maybe we’d see eye-to-eye

If my eyes were on my boobs—

Are you listening to me??

 

(sigh)

 

Never mind.

Yes, I’ll pass the lube

 

Just when you see I’m sufficiently exhausted

(and don’t deny you’re feeling sly knowing you’re the one who caused it)

You finally give in and whisper softly,

“I love you”

And I answer,

“You don’t have to say it.

I already know you do.”

 

To Knit or Knot?

 

I was one of seven ladies sitting

On a sunny Saturday

Sipping on sangria

And gossiping away

 

Some had brought their knitting

I am a knitter not

I’m partial to crocheting

But the day was just too hot

 

I watched in curious wonder

As the needles clacked and crossed

The stitches slowed but never dropped

Despite the knitters getting sauced

 

Watching too long made my eyes cross

A lesson I politely declined

But I did have one burning question

And asked it while fresh on my mind—

 

“Do you knot your ends when switching skeins

Or stitch the ends back in?”

 

The respondent widened her eyes and gasped

On her face was not a grin

 

“Never knot your knitting!”

She scolded as she spoke

“Surely you must be kidding—

That had to be a joke!

The knot would be the weakest part—

The first to come undone!”

 

Her ‘purls’ of wisdom I took to heart

(Pardon the knitting pun)

 

Of the many things I learned that day

(Most gossip I can’t share)—

If I’m ever fit to learn to knit,

A knot I would not DARE!

 

TOO MANY WORDS

 

No words needed said
But alas, I uttered many
Despite the fact that no one
Had asked for my two pennies

Nothing needed clarified
Nothing was misunderstood
Still, I redelivered the message
Because my first words weren’t as good

No explanation was requested
No question even existed
Yet I anticipated confusion,
So my elaboration persisted

No justification was needed
Although I felt the urge
To find more words to demonstrate
The points where we converge

No feelings required to be professed
But, of course, I came undone
Forgetting the best of emotions
Are the strong and silent ones

No apology was necessary
But I sorried just the same
Convincing even myself
That I was the one to blame

Not one syllable needed spoken
(I leaked so many it’s atrocious)
They spilled out like,
Supercalifragilistic-
Expialidocious
The words just kept on flowing
I’d take a breath, then spit more out
It’s a helpless feeling knowing
You’ve got diarrhea of the mouth

 

The verbal vomit persisted
My mood became morose
Try as I could to resist it,
It seemed I’d become terminally…

Verbose

I think only death can save me
So I wish, when I’m interred,
That the inscription on my grave be:
SHE DIED OF TOO MANY WORDS

Nikki Knight is a former radio personality and freelance writer from northwestern PA.  Her poetry has appeared in anthologies from Poets’ Hall Press and Peeking Cat Poetry.  Her short story, A Year of Tears, is available on Amazon. Nikki currently works as a counselor in a men’s state correctional facility and continues to hone her creative writing skills as a means of escape. (Pun intended)