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Amaya Williams Albuquerque / United States, Female, 53
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    • POEM: Mr. Nobody by Joseph M. Conti (4/4/2007 9:28:00 PM)

      Mr Nobody

      I know a funny little man,
      As quiet as a mouse,
      Who does the mischief that is done
      In everybody’s house!
      There’s no one ever sees his face,
      And yet we all agree
      That every plate we break was cracked
      By Mr Nobody.

      ’Tis he who always tears our books,
      Who leaves the door ajar,
      He pulls the buttons from our shirts,
      And scatters pins afar;
      That squeaking door will always squeak
      For, prithee, don’t you see,
      We leave the oiling to be done
      By Mr Nobody.

      He puts damp wood upon the fire,
      That kettles cannot boil;
      His are the feet that bring in mud,
      And all the carpets soil.
      The papers always are mislaid,
      Who had them last but he?
      There’s not one tosses them about
      But Mr Nobody.

      The finger-marks upon the door
      By none of us are made;
      We never leave the blinds unclosed,
      To let the curtains fade;
      The ink we never spill; the boots
      That lying round you see
      Are not our boots; they all belong
      To Mr Nobody.
      Anon

    • POEM: Mr. Nobody by Joseph M. Conti (4/4/2007 9:25:00 PM)

      This isn't your poem...this poem was written many many decades ago and is print in several books?

      The author is always listed as anonymous and it is several stanzas long...this being only one of them and not quite the same wording, but beyond close.

      Were you just posting this piece of work for others or were you stating it as your own, I'm confused?