"bryant" poems
I wake up and eat some eggs, a yogurt, and a few slices of melon
in an attempt to change my life
after all it is that or death
I won't hold my breath
It's a beautiful day to head to the mall
with a friend
I really know where this is going
Hmm
I like that shirt
Oops, this store doesn't offer plus size
On to the next..
I really like these jeans..
Forty five dollars for sizes sixteen and up
What a mess!
Since I refuse to let Lane Bryant **** my wallet in the ***
I decide to head to Barnes and Noble instead
I accidentally bumped into a lady and her baby stroller as I walked past and she mumbled
"Fat ***** under her breath
Yes that's what she said
I didn't even turn my head
Because that's what the lady said
and that's what society says
and instead of trying to explain it's just
easier to walk away
it's the self hatred after I dread
So I buy a whole pizza and eat the entire ******* thing
and it is beyond delicious
though the guilt I feel afterwards wasn't worth it
and vomitting that **** up was viscous
Even when I was a little girl I dreamed of being thin
I dreamed of being a model
I dreamed of having a flat tummy
Just to fit in
I didn't like the belly I had
or the fat in my cheeks
I was the only kid in gym that could never climb the rope
and that began a string of anxiety attacks
that would last for weeks
The doctor calls it insulin resistance
which leaves me with the inability to lose weight
but I shouldn't have to explain to anyone my condition
I just shouldn't have to explain
not to mention the ovarian disease that cripples me to my knees
which so happens to be genetic
and mimics the blood of a diabetic
leaving me incurable
a medical mystery
not to mention infertility
so for me
children are just a dream
Although I tell myself
that I am beautiful
and that I am intelligent
and that I am funny
and that I am a hard worker
and that I am successful
and that I am caring
and that I am loving
and that I am daring
and that I am the best **** friend a person could ever have
To a stranger I'm just a "fat *****
and you know what?
That makes me really ******* sad
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
A wave of elation hit me the second I saw you,
and through that revolving door you flew.
I couldn't help but notice the smile on your face
as we held each other in a longing embrace.
The scent of you flooded my lungs,
how good it is to be happy and young.
Hand in hand we walked,
all the way to Top of the Rock.
Admiring the city we stood in that space,
you wrapped both arms around my waist.
Still standing in the corner behind the glass,
I turned with a grin, and our lips met at last.
We strolled over to Bryant Park,
where we laughed until dark.
The times we stared in each other's eyes without making a sound,
made it feel as if no one was around.
We watched little kids play many games,
if it wasn't freezing we said we'd do the same.
Finally caught a cab to take us to The Met,
there we listened to a string quintet.
We sat at a small table with my dad and his wife,
where they talked all about college and life.
For an hour we stayed, in that beautiful place,
and secretly, our fingers were interlaced.
Back to the apartment with only an hour left,
we rode the elevators without a rest.
Foreheads touching, and mouths pressed together,
you soon had to leave in the cold frosty weather.
When it was time, we said farewell and goodbye,
then you ran back and held me for one last time.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
I got handles that can handle any problem
If they the problem
I can solve em
I bench boys like I do at the gym
Sorry boys
All I do is win
Call it 1988
Cause I'm bringing the heat
Like #33
You wont forget me
But unlike triple threat
Call me self reliant
I'm a one man team
Call me Kobe Bryant
Like 2 Three-peat
Just like the Lakers
I'm taking over your town
33 winning streak
16 championships
The press always giving me
Full court press
I wouldn't call this chemistry
Its magic like Johnson
I feel like Jrue Holiday,
Underrated
But I feel like this our year,
Toronto Raptors
I got handles that can handle any problem
If they the problem
I'm they the problem
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 6:12 PM UTC
Hooping to me is bringing everything to the court
Basketball is a passion, not an ordinary sport
I play defense like a soldier, defending his fort
You have to go hard no matter what, if you shooting a lay up or a three
When I'm on the hardwood, I lose my mind and go free
I imagine myself not Eric, but the man who wore the Bull's 23
I won't be in the NBA, but I'll be the backyard Kobe Bryant or The City Park MVP
Sep 18, 2011
Sep 18, 2011 at 10:13 PM UTC
~
*i have never particularly cared for him or for his style of play. there is a fine line between knowledge of one’s talents and arrogance and i have always thought Kobe walked on the downhill side of that line, when doing so was unnecessary. of course it did not help that a Lakers / Blazers rivalry cost the Blazers at least one NBA Finals berth… most of us are, after all, most likely to gravitate toward our hometown team.
but on seeing this post from Kobe in the Player’s Tribune, i found that i simply must acknowledge the classiness of his retirement penning...
instead of a letter, the guy writes a poem. how can i not embrace this?*
~
BY KOBE BRYANT
LOS ANGELES LAKERS
Dear Basketball,
From the moment
I started rolling my dad’s tube socks
And shooting imaginary
Game-winning shots
In the Great Western Forum
I knew one thing was real:
I fell in love with you.
A love so deep I gave you my all —
From my mind & body
To my spirit & soul.
As a six-year-old boy
Deeply in love with you
I never saw the end of the tunnel.
I only saw myself
Running out of one.
And so I ran.
I ran up and down every court
After every loose ball for you.
You asked for my hustle
I gave you my heart
Because it came with so much more.
I played through the sweat and hurt
Not because challenge called me
But because YOU called me.
I did everything for YOU
Because that’s what you do
When someone makes you feel as
Alive as you’ve made me feel.
You gave a six-year-old boy his Laker dream
And I’ll always love you for it.
But I can’t love you obsessively for much longer.
This season is all I have left to give.
My heart can take the pounding
My mind can handle the grind
But my body knows it’s time to say goodbye.
And that’s OK.
I’m ready to let you go.
I want you to know now
So we both can savor every moment we have left together.
The good and the bad.
We have given each other
All that we have.
And we both know, no matter what I do next
I’ll always be that kid
With the rolled up socks
Garbage can in the corner
:05 seconds on the clock
Ball in my hands.
5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1
Love you always,
Kobe
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
Kobe Bryant is with us no more.
The good do die young sometimes, that's for sure.
He was a basketball hero in LA.
He always played the game hard, that was his way.
An NBA legend he will forever be.
Always an inspiration to people like you and me.
Jan 27, 2020
Jan 27, 2020 at 10:21 AM UTC
It's been eight long years
since God has called you home
He noticed your angel wings and glowing halo
He brought you to where you belong
In a world of divine pure love
A heaven full of God's grace
You reside
Where there is no pain
No sickness
Only joy and peace
Your spirit living abundantly
Your mind forever at ease
I think about you all the time
Laying and praying for you to come to me in my dreams
So I can see the penetrating beauty of your light and
You can show me the gifts that heaven brings
As I gaze at the mirror
my eyes
my nose
my smile
Are all identical to your bloom
I can vividly hear the music of your voice that echos through the room
The young woman I've become
Is subjected to make you proud
The respect, courtesy, and love I share
In this World, you showed me how
I deserve more than the voids this World posses
Therefore, I remain to seek the Kingdom first
Our Father will provide the rest
Mom
I just want you to know
Words are incompetent in describing how much
I think of you
I love you
I wish you was shoulder length away
When I get weak in my body and mind
I humble myself and I pray
This life here on Earth
I wish you had a chance to explain
I wander in a puzzle
Each day that I face
But I've come a long way
In spirit each day I grow
So I can ascend into heaven
When God calls his church home
This world is full of madness
In confusion I remain
If this stubborn world only knew what
Divine creations we are
We posses to be
We wouldn't live in vain
But this is YOUR day, Beautiful!
When God brought you in this marvelous made world
To explore through his glory until your job was well done
It was completely a honor to have met you in your lifetime
To have you as my mother
Eight years ago I'd be kissing you until your cheeks color
Red
Now with an open heart I speak towards heaven instead
Happy Birthday Pretty Lady Happy Birthday to you!
Until we meet again Barbara Jedale Bryant
I love &&
I miss you
Copy Right 2013
©Patty Ann
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 11:45 AM UTC
"Dear Basketball,
From the moment
I started rolling my dad’s tube socks
And shooting imaginary
Game-winning shots
In the Great Western Forum
I knew one thing was real:
I fell in love with you.
A love so deep I gave you my all —
From my mind & body
To my spirit & soul.
As a six-year-old boy
Deeply in love with you
I never saw the end of the tunnel.
I only saw myself
Running out of one.
And so I ran.
I ran up and down every court
After every loose ball for you.
You asked for my hustle
I gave you my heart
Because it came with so much more.
I played through the sweat and hurt
Not because challenge called me
But because YOU called me.
I did everything for YOU
Because that’s what you do
When someone makes you feel as
Alive as you’ve made me feel.
You gave a six-year-old boy his Laker dream
And I’ll always love you for it.
But I can’t love you obsessively for much longer.
This season is all I have left to give.
My heart can take the pounding
My mind can handle the grind
But my body knows it’s time to say goodbye.
And that’s OK.
I’m ready to let you go.
I want you to know now
So we both can savor every moment we have left together.
The good and the bad.
We have given each other
All that we have.
And we both know, no matter what I do next
I’ll always be that kid
With the rolled up socks
Garbage can in the corner
:05 seconds on the clock
Ball in my hands.
5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1
Love you always,
Kobe"
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 7:13 AM UTC
When I look at you
I see Bryant Park flushed with spring
and cluttered, burnished with Christmastime.
I see the way your big hands hold my face, my waist.
I see thick snowflakes
catching in your long lashes.
I see the streaks of light we've trailed
in the places we have been
like the flare of a comet,
footprints in ash and snow.
Six months we have stood,
daring the storm to catch us,
daring the lightning to strike.
You will pretend you did not remember our anniversary
and make me laugh when you say so
because you want me to learn
that you forgetting me is humorous
and ridiculous
and impossible.
I'll wake up the morning after,
panicked because it was five months and not six,
and you will say that it makes no difference
because what does a month matter
when you have forever?
We dance
and I trip and step on your toes
but you just turn on Frank Sinatra
and lead me through while you sing, smiling, in my ear.
And on the days when I curl up like a shell in your arms
shaking with untraceable, messy sobs
you keep singing
your lips unafraid to kiss away the tears.
I think I knew you once,
a thousand years ago,
a billion,
when we were stars in the galaxy
lovers in a white palace
dust in the ground.
And today
we are six months of being in love
six months of pure, unadulterated happiness
six months of dancing,
an eternal song.
Sing me to sleep again,
champion of my heart.
I will dream that we are timeless
and your voice will carry me through
until the dawn.
JFC
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 2:06 AM UTC
131
Besides the Autumn poets sing
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the Haze—
A few incisive Mornings—
A few Ascetic Eves—
Gone—Mr. Bryant’s “Golden Rod”—
And Mr. Thomson’s “sheaves.”
Still, is the bustle in the Brook—
Sealed are the spicy valves—
Mesmeric fingers softly touch
The Eyes of many Elves—
Perhaps a squirrel may remain—
My sentiments to share—
Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind—
Thy windy will to bear!
1.9k
Thorny theories, swan songs
to ask but once
Anita Bryant , a Southern librarian
swam Bathing suit
in the algae deemed
the origin of mankind,
betrothed or otherwise
whispered the newly keeper of the Fauna.
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 6:01 PM UTC
The roads long
taper on the end
A memory, unfolds
at every bend
Exotic trees, and
Silver cascade falls
Misty mountain peaks
Lotus in the lake
Lush multicoloured flowers
At the Bryant Park
Horses to ride
Pink candy floss
Kodaikanal - ‘The Gift of the forest’
As it’s rightly known
Dec 3, 2019
Dec 3, 2019 at 12:13 PM UTC
I think this person who wrote on
Lauren Jackson’s Instagram who
Made her feel bad about praising
Kobe Bryant was totally awful
You see maybe he might not have been nice to all, or have a past
But we all have a past and people who are known as cowards
Shouldn’t wait until someone is dead to post horrible comments on Instagram
You see a lot of kids liked him and
Looked up to him
And despite what he was like to some people’s opinion he should be treated with dignity
Because to me Kobe Bryant was a basketball hero who loved life
It is a shame that he is now dead
Lauren Jackson wanted to pay a tribute to the great man
And yes, I called him a great man
Because he went somewhere with his daughter he died with his daughter
He was a real family man a great man
It is a shame he had to end his life like that
I am paying tribute to him too
I am doing a woollen tapestry of him and his daughter and the other people on the helicopter flying up to heaven or nirvana where the colours
Really are bright and Kobe deserves that so if you want to leave nasty messages on Instagram just think
About whether you have a past and whether you will want to air your ***** laundry when you die
Leave Kobe Bryant alone dudes
Feb 1, 2020
Feb 1, 2020 at 11:57 PM UTC
Bryant, Williams, Ruffin, Kendricks, Mcgilberry, Davis and Harris.
All are apart of the legacy of Temptation's forever.
And now they are rockin' in heaven.
One with a spin.
One with a grin.
One with a smile surrounded by a heavenly choir.
The sun got brighter.
As the cloudy day faded away.
With the Saints of the Sanctuary marching to the gates.
One with spec.
One with a double breasted suit to the microphone.
With the choir of harmonizers singing along.
And they get inducted into the halls of Rock and Roll heaven.
The audience is supplied with starts.
We see Curtis Mayfield's will his guitar.
And Elvis ready to join in.
In Rock and Roll heaven, they all are musical friends.
Even Johnny Taylor and Sam Cooke and Otis Redding is ready to sing.
And Bobby Hatfield's ready to go upon a solo.
Oh, they must be rockin' behind close doors.
Ready to greet a Staple's singer through the holy doors.
God welcome only a select few.
While we upon earth debate about who?
In truth, only He knows, who He will bring?
And they all don't have to see.
If you've been touched by a song they sung.
Then you're aware of the bells that's been rung.
God, has placed his heart upon everyone.
Especially, his selected choir.
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 11:50 AM UTC
He undertook
Such a jolly folly
To search for his heart's twin
O'er plain, and peak
Never sparing daring
Mad quest he did begin
He careless spent
All his funny money
For he spared no expense
Heard of a man
said to uncover lovers
Without a recompense
"He's only known
as the Giant Bryant"
For there were none bigger
So off he went
For how dare-he tarry
With the greatest vigor
Within one moon
He did righted sighted
The giant's stone castle
And cautious stepped
Midst the towers flowers
For he was quite facile
With guarded prose
Lest he adverse converse
Relayed his quest of years
And though none be
A more mighter blighter
Tall Bryant shed six tears
"Your search for love"
Reflects gallant talent
And will surely quench thirst
In yonder vale
In a deeping sleeping
A daughter who's born first
A true love's heart
And hair flaxen waxen
Braids tressed with a blue fleur
She longs for love
To keep-her deeper
Hope steels her to endure
It was just so
For he found-her sounder
In the vale with fields green
Her braided hair
In breeze saving waving
With the suns golden sheen
As he held her
In their blissing kissing
Knew he'd ne'er search again
For in her eyes
Shown a growing knowing
Reflecting his hearts twin
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC
The Scream
All my prayers have gone unanswered.
All my pleas have gone unheard.
The demons from you past have found you.
They take bites from your flesh.
You do not notice the damage.
All I can do is watch.
What separates us is too vast
I scream to draw their attention
I call on them to attack me
They laugh at my helplessness, my sorrow
I scream because I don't know what else to do
I scream because I love you
I scream because I'm scared
Terrified of losing you
Because we are good together
And that frightens you
I can't turn away, can't avert my gaze
I reach out for you, thinking that somehow
Maybe I can pull you to safety or least close enough to protect
I scream for you
I die for you
You think the demons are your friends
You turn away, you laugh as they consume you
And still I cannot turn away
I scream for you to remember
I scream
I scream
I scream
Through tears I scream
I scream for you
Because my prayers have gone unanswered
My pleas have gone unheard.
I have failed you
I scream that I love you
I scream
Until all there is, is my scream
3/25/16
Jonathan Parker Bryant
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 1:46 AM UTC
imagine if VCIS had escalators instead of hard stair cases
and water slides in each sides
just to keep our entertainment level high
imagine our classrooms with movie screens
instead of those pale whiteboards
where you can watch the math problems
as the ****** in this movie
while you enjoy the lessons
chomping some barbecue popcorns
imagine our canteen
as a 5 star Gorden Ramsy's
and our library with a super secret spy base
behind one of those 8 bookshelves
and our tiny comfort rooms with disco *****
so we can shake a bit while we release some bits
and our quad floor as the Pacific Ocean
because why not
imagine Koby Bryant standing in our Lakers ground
just to make our school look cool
imagine our school as a mental hospital
or a even a county called
"International Christian Republic of Victory"
for we have our own flag and an anthem to sing
imagine every extremes you had ever imagine
but once these imaginations step in the border of wishing
to change our school
VCIS will never be the same
because I like our school the way it is
it is imperfectly perfect
each of the classrooms have different crayons of personalities
where everyone fills the color of this huge painting
our windows are sealed with iron bars and covered with egg trays
but no great movies can be fun as this movie with best friends
and the those grade school students running every morning
as if I was chasing them on a 13th Friday
but they are happiest human beings I know
and even though our campus may be smaller than others
and even though there are some cracks in the edges
and even though I eat fried chicken with ketchup every single lunch
I will remember VCIS forever for that.
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 11:00 AM UTC
10/3/2014
at high noon, and
i think, high tide
She looked up at the shy pisces sun, which is never brilliant,
tripped over a brick, traced her long shadow on the sidewalk
with her finger in the air
and i had to remind her I was standing right behind.
she'd say "right, that you are" I was tempted to
add that I wasn't quite sure about that.
I noticed our shadows were contorted, stretched
like papyrus,
I was remembering how she'd announce at times with no
order: "I am happy" or "I'm sad" while watching T.V.
or walking down the lane.
But now she didn't quite seem to say much.
And I was always asking "Amy you happy? Amy you sad?
Amy you OK? Amy you fine?" Amy you ok? Amy you ok? Amy you ok? Going well? Fine?
It was like that
we held hands in a modern art museum is how we met
"It's a good picture," she had noted of "My Grandparents, My Parents and Me".
I had looked sidelong to its neighbor, a picture of a trashcan
trying to desperately scream about some societal ill
lost in translation forever.
I had already given up when she had given me a 'goodday'
I didn't care about seeing her anymore
but it still hurt.
My name? Jane. Bryant Jane. Born a man
or at least Earth Planet tells me my parts belong to a boy, whatever that is.
In second grade kids teased me and I went by my middle name
as a form of protest against them.
Looking back, I was feeding them.
Or was i starving them?
I read once the name Jane is considered bad luck
in English royal life
I entertained this just as I did my taut masculinity
this 'girl' Amy found it cute. but
remember how i had ended up asking for her opinion on everything in the end?
because she would not say it on her own volition?
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
Defied gravity,changed the game’s formalities and all you have to say is mentality. For the lord of the rings mastery to appear images of 81, a man who shots ended so many suns and trailblazers. Your impact was nothing short of a Big Bang crater, a creator to so many future hoop legends that’s why I’m writing “Dear heaven” cause he did more for us than any lakers possession. A father even in the end, I salute as your jersey ascends there will never be another bean Bryant again.
Jan 27, 2020
Jan 27, 2020 at 8:03 AM UTC
A student again, how cute it is and really I feel free
the thoughts, of life, and planning and how things could be
not tied down to a job and obsessing about my boss did this and that
and what does it mean for me now and why and
today I had a wasted day but that is normal
Because life is full of wasted moments, and
the most tragic moments are those we don't feel
The painful part isn't that we were at the laundromat
and put our stuff down to study and highlight in different colors
and a woman put her family there on top of our stuff with McDonald's for five even
though there were only three, and that there was nothing good at the Goodwill
Even the Rainbow colored sweater from Lane Bryant, which was way too big
and that the laundry from a month took hours and yes, we really do have that many socks
What is wasted are those moments folding the pile of shirts where we are not there
we are somewhere lost in mourning over a lost love and thinking,
he loved me more than he loves her, I just know.
Because all we have at that moment is this pile of a zillion articles of clothing
most of which looks like it could be hanging at the Goodwil and
a flimsy plastic chair and two times the amount of highlighters we needed because they were half price and we are hungry, but the snack machine is turned off and you can
only look at the cookies and hot cheetohs
and yearn for them and imagine the flakey tenderness of the vanilla wafer
crumble gentley into your mouth, and watch your creepy
neighbors walk into the strip mall listening to a song on a phone
like it's a boom box
and this is your moment to feel and live
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 11:05 PM UTC
shaman shaman
bury me
under a starlit sky
beside a sinless tree.
commend my soul
to the vastness above,
bathe me, cleanse me,
lift me high on the wings of the dove.
of my talents i leave here on earth,
scatter them, share them,
to bear witness of new birth.
if others must judge my worried past,
fill their hearts with love and kindness,
the gifts of the Spirit
that hold true and fast.
and to those for whom i have cared
that have gone before,
please have them stand in ready
to open the door.
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 7:36 PM UTC
that boy sitting next to her
with a slender, birdbone frame power
in his Franken-lightning hair, a hungry
edge to his jaw, who stumbles over Bishop
but compresses our breath with his words
undoes me in muted, fraying ways
the cuffs of my favorite sweater
slowly unraveling under years of continuous wear
his smile is clever and **** with drama
kept in the dark alley corner of his mouth,
strong coffee and bruises without origin
I didn't want to know how
under the soft tissue of my liver and spine
there are words that might taste
like a fire escape in Brooklyn
a night on a stranger’s couch
and how compulsory punctuation might be
only an afterthought to others
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
She’s scrubbing dishes too hard in our gutted sink;
the garbage disposal has been coughing up bile,
black coffee grounds still stinking of Jameson.
It was cold last weekend, so I’d made her a treat—
coffee as Irish as her mother’s on Christmas Eve
after all seven children went grumbling to bed.
But I spiked the percolator rather than her cup.
So she’s scouring the coffee *** scraping
rusted filaments of wire wool over black-stained
Inox Steel, erasing my mess. I try to kiss her cheek
as I squeeze behind her to toss another can in the trash.
Her hunched and weighted shoulders are cold
and she ignores me. Drenched with the tiredness
of soapsuds and bleach, eyes red and dripping,
hands perfumed with ammonia, her body folds.
I smile a smile of false teeth and true love,
awestruck at the bubbles that cling to her elbows.
She is beautiful, cracked and exhausted.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC
Flight
by Michael R. Burch
Eagle, raven, blackbird, crow . . .
What you are I do not know.
Where you go I do not care.
I’m unconcerned whose meal you bear.
But as you mount the sun-splashed sky,
I only wish that I could fly.
I only wish that I could fly.
Robin, hawk or whippoorwill . . .
Should men care if you hunger still?
I do not wish to see your home.
I do not wonder where you roam.
But as you scale the sky's bright stairs,
I only wish that I were there.
I only wish that I were there.
Sparrow, lark or chickadee . . .
Your markings I disdain to see.
Where you fly concerns me not.
I scarcely give your flight a thought.
But as you wheel and arc and dive,
I, too, would feel so much alive.
I, too, would feel so much alive.
I don’t remember exactly when this poem was written. I believe it was around 1974-1975, which would have made me 16 or 17 at the time. I do remember not being happy with the original version of the poem, and I revised it more than once over the years, including recently at age 61! The original poem was influenced by William Cullen Bryant’s “To a Waterfowl.” Keywords: flight, flying, bird, wheel, arc, dive, nest, scale, eagle, raven, blackbird, crow, robin, hawk, whippoorwill, sparrow, lark, chickadee
Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 4:46 AM UTC