I built a little snowman
with a little smile,
when a little puddle
I cried a little while
Tyrants of the nether regions
The basic problem that I see,
just between you and me,
are the jangle dangles of a man,
some too small to scan,
or of the size that water eyes,
that you and I with flies,
know tickle wickle best in wind,
and yet in cotton they get pinned.
Briefs pull in and up and cup,
trunks chafe thighs and show what’s up
was not as promised from the kiss.
While bikini jockstraps are the miss
they sound, as dangles strangle tight,
and cheeks moon for creepies bite.
Of course Boxers give swing and sway
but ditch them all and go commando I’d say.
How I loved football as a child
if a match on,
I made the TV
purred and weaved
and pawed your hands.
and whistled for
It’s how the
leaves its kisses
John Alwyine-Mosely’s poetry is eclectic (meaning what’s a genre again?) drawing on a range of subjects and styles. His most recent poems were published in VerseWrights, YorkMix and The Stare’s Nest.