Elegy for a Quiet Man
Farewell, George NoMan.
by Ellen Pepper
He spake righteously,
if he spake at all.
How the plethora of charmed women
hung on his every word,
albeit few and far between they were.
His bristling black sideburns will no longer impress
the ladies who swooned.
His stately manner of dress decaying,
forgotten in his musty cupboard.
George NoMan is gone from this plane.
His like to be seen no more.
A quiet man, cards held close to vest.
Saying not an extraneous word.
No one can claim to have known old George.
He kept to himself. He liked it that way.
No ties that bound 'til life was snuffed.
No joys that taught of impending sorrow.
George had no animal companion.
He preferred to be alone.
No one to care for.
No one to care for him.
He spent his days creating,
A stockpile of witticisms
to share at arms length.
Not wishing for fame, not prideful.
So now we lay dear George to rest.
His mouth silent forever.
So many secrets kept within.
So many lies untold.
Our beloved George is NoMan,
for the nonce - he is but a fucking ghost.
Requiescat in Pace
©Ellen Pepper 2025
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