Tin Can By Tin Can, 12th Feb 2015 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Humour>Poetry

I had a fondness for someone and noticed a habit they had. The closer you get to a person, an individual, is the more you learn about them.
You learn their foibles.

Is this good or bad...?


I was thinking of you today.
"In what way?" I hear you say.
Oh. Just in one of your loving pose.
You know. Where you're picking your nose.
With concentration intense,
Putting up with no nonsense.
Little fingernail at the ready,
To do your nostril injury.

Ouch. It hurts a little.
And the sound it makes is so, so brittle.
And all the edges, you can feel.
But the stubborn scab just won't peel.
So, with great determination,
Millimetres of extra insertion,
A deft flick and it's curtains,
For that scab. It's certain.

"Nosebleeds were plenty,
With no degree of certainty,
As to when they'd appear,
To my dread and to my fear.
So to the nurse I was sent.
With my parents consent.
And a hot probe she imposed,
Cauterizing my nose."

"This you will find,
Is the history behind,
The little confusion,
Over my nasal intrusion.
And the scab that's remain,
Doesn't hurt. I have no pain,
I just have this annoying habit,
Where, at times, I just want to grab it."


Cauterizing, Concentration, Confusion, Couple, Curtains, Determination, Dread, Fear, Feel, Fingernail, Habit, History, Hurt, Injury, Little, Noise, Nose, Nosebleeds, Nostril, Nurse, Pain, Pose, Probe, Scab, Stubborn, Tin Can, Today

Meet the author

author avatar Tin Can
My poetry tend to veer towards feelings of emotion. Love. Sex. Desire. Most of my verses will reflect these sentiments as I mainly write straight from the heart. 31 Jan 15.

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