"edwin" poems
All Things Galore
by Michael R. Burch
(for my grandfathers George Edwin Hurt Sr. and Paul Ray Burch, Sr.)
Grandfather,
now in your gray presence
you are
somehow more near
and remind me that,
once, upon a star,
you taught me
wish
that ululate soft phrase,
that hopeful phrase!
and everywhere above, each hopeful star
gleamed down
and seemed to speak of times before
when you clasped my small glad hand
in your wise paw
and taught me heaven, omen, meteor ...
Keywords/Tags: family, grandfather, grandchild, grandson, teacher, mentor, example, guide, guidance, guru
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 10:42 PM UTC
"Hey Edwin, put this in your mouth,"
quoth one co-worker while handing me some mashed potatoes on a tray.
"Woah, man; last time someone told me that, they gave me $50 first!"
**** Edwin, you sure know how to rake in the money,"*
another co-worker promptly interjected.
"Hey, we's all gotsta pay our bills, one way or another."
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 5:36 AM UTC
The weather outside is "Colder Than My Heart, If You Can Imagine" (A Day To Remember)
but that won't stop me from "Bleeding Out" (Imagine Dragons)
and you know I won't be "Happy" (Pharrell Williams)
as I am "Without You Again" (Sam Shaber)
I would never try to force you to "Stay" (Mayday Parade)
don't try to tell me I need "Therapy" (All Time Low)
until you hear "Both Sides Of The Story" (We Are The In Crowd)
you've always told me to be "Brave" (Sara Bareilles)
but now I'm afraid of the "Demons" (Imagine Dragons)
I'm sure we can "Let It Go" (Demi Lovato)
after all we're just "Human" (Christina Perri)
as long as you know "I'll Be" (Edwin McCain)
more than "Weightless" (All Time Low)
up here like a "Satellite" (Rise Against)
but now you're back so let's "Begin Again" (Taylor Swift)
and "Step" (Vampire Weekend)
to our "First Dance" (Nevershoutnever!)
before we sit together under the "Starlight" (Taylor Swift)
until we're "Out of Time" (A Day To Remember)
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 12:30 AM UTC
(This poem posted in tribute to the life &memory; of Robin Williams...Rest in Peace)
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
'Good-morning,' and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich - yes, richer than a king -
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
(Edwin Arlington Robinson)
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 11:12 AM UTC
Once it was labelled
You lost what we were
Too many opinions
You couldn't defer
You faked a break up
That soon became real
Peer pressure forced you
To change how you feel
For the next long month
I took space to recover
But on Hallowe'en I found out
That you found another
You two broke up
And Edwin brought us together
We hungout just twice
In the near-winter weather
I thought you liked me
Because we kissed at the park
But you loved me like a sister
Thought there wasn't a spark
You moved on to Emma
And we drifted apart
You found a new family
And it broke my heart
Every promise was broken
You weren't the same Reagen
You forgot about my feelings
And left with no reason
We had the worst fight of our history
So many hurtful things said
The worst: that you're leaving
That ripped me to shreds
Two months spent without you
But only just physically
'Cause you plagued my thoughts
And wrecked my stability
Ironically, it was Emma,
The girl who stole your attention,
That convinced you to come back
And repair our connection
Our relationship improved
But it wasn't restored
We only talked about Emma,
The girl you adored
Eventually, I met a boy
Who seemed to treat me much better
We started to date
He lent me his sweater
Everything changed
When Jesse moved away
You realized who cared
And what mistake you had made
As we got closer
Tristan started to withdraw
I was being too clingy
It's always been my flaw
The saying "History repeats itself"
Has never been more true
When Tristan and I stopped dating
You hoped that we'd get to
And just like last summer
I made out with Owen
But again it felt awkward
So it won't keep going
They say I've chosen you
Like my love's a competition
They say I've chosen you
I do it like tradition
All I know is I love you
And I always want to see you smile
Just understand that I can't
Make decisions for awhile
So happy birthday baby
May all your dreams come true
I hope this year's amazing
And I can spend it all with you
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 12:32 AM UTC
When my Mother died this summer in June 1991 I felt set adrift in a vast ocean. Things would never be the same again. My mother would not be there to pray for me in the middle of the night. How would I survive this world without her praying? Maybe worst of all, I couldn’t go home again.
The home as I knew it growing up and until that day, had vanished in a moment’s time. The pain of the loss was not real, it seemed like a dream. I did NOT want to finish the last bits of paper work that needed to be done. That would make it all final.
I heard a county western song by Kathy Mattea, “Where’ve You Been” on TV in November. Five months after Mom died that song brought the total grief to bare that I must have suppressed all this time. It brought back memories of Mom saying “Where have you been” when I was over due to return home. She was concerned about my safety. Up until then I had not shed but a few tears. It finally hit. Hard.
Today, Sunday, Jan 12, 1992, I realized that I will be going home again. That the home my mother made for her children on this earth was not the home she had prayed for all these years. The sacrifices she made to raise four kids in adverse circumstances were made with love. They were made with a final destination in mind that few realize. The most important goal in all of life - to give your kids the love and understand of who God is, really is. Jesus went to prepare a place for us – the home coming of eternity. Mom is at home with Jesus and waiting for her children to come home. “Where have you been” may be on her lips again but I rather think it will be “I am so happy you made it home. Welcome home to stay; I want you to meet Jesus”.
Post comment 2010
My mother had the ability/curse of knowing when something was wrong with one of her kids. I remember in 52 when my brother was in Korea. We received a letter from my brother and my mother was happy. Two days later, it looked like a cloud had descended on her and she went around muttering, "something 's wrong with Eddie, " over and over. This went on for three days and then the cloud lifted. Later we found out the POWs working in the kitchen had put poison in the food. My brother was close to death for three days. My brother has the same curse. He is 78 this month.
Today... June 6 2018
Mom is at home with her son Edwin, daughter Lois and son Wayne. I am the only one left to go home.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 6:59 PM UTC
Galileo couldst not even seeith
The heaven that lieth
Inside queen Jane;
Einstein couldst not even dreameth
The beauty
Inside of her brain;
Edwin Hubble lived inside
Of a bubble, being blinded
From her view;
Stephen hawking, forget thine
Scientific talking; mine empress
Is from God, a divine muse.
Isaac Newton, recalculate thine
Mathematic's; mine amour' is not a number,
Awakest from slumber, sweet Jane is aromatic.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 6:24 PM UTC
Where i am
Somewhere on solid lithosphere
everybody seems mad,
viewing the world from an empty plate
yesterday and today can never be the same
about ninety percent of the world is confused,
the more you know the less you understand
you have no clue
pray for the mind's eyes
beauty in perspectives
Semi-rainbow Sedatives
Naked band of thieves
Slender neem twigs
when you see the light
live with it
Wherever you are
don't feel mad
BY IWO O. EDWIN
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
Sunset
by Michael R. Burch
This poem is dedicated to my grandfather, George Edwin Hurt, who died April 4, 1998.
Between the prophecies of morning
and twilight’s revelations of wonder,
the sky is ripped asunder.
The moon lurks in the clouds,
waiting, as if to plunder
the dusk of its lilac iridescence,
and in the bright-tentacled sunset
we imagine a presence
full of the fury of lost innocence.
What we find within strange whorls of drifting flame,
brief patterns mauling winds deform and maim,
we recognize at once, but cannot name.
Keywords/Tags: sunset, aging, death, grandfather, grandson, grandchild, family, grave, funeral, loss, twilight, night, transcendence, heaven
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 9:57 PM UTC
Edwin was a boy
who saw things in black and white
in this world he was a tourist
he was always chasing the green light
About faith, he was a skeptic
never prayed before a fight
he would jump without his parachutes
a wild soul that couldn't die
You see
people nowadays use wheelchairs made of hope
but they sleep in ****** sheets
there is never a chapter to be closed
Edwin used to see his neighbours as oysters
they would never come out of their shells
it makes me a little jealous
we like to ride deadly carriages without wearing a seatbelt
He cries all night
He dances all day
Oh little boy, one day
One day they will pay for your ransom
Oh little boy, one day
They will pay your real value
Edwin was a man
who always liked to play with razors
feel the breath of life hanging in your hands
a beautiful death angel
He spent eighty years trying to solve this riddle
my dear, life is like a bingo
you may have the invincible golden sword
but you will spend eternity in a limbo
He saw
that they build castles with pillars made of sand
they think it is beautiful to die in a war
while they listen to a cheap jazz band
Your eyes flying faster than an eagle
the honour slipping through your fingers
When we look at the stars we know
that we are waiting for the winners
He cries all night
He dances all day
Oh little boy, one day
One day they will pay for your rescue
Oh little boy, one day
They will pay your real value
Edwin is long gone
we feed each other with his ribs
No one never listened to him
we think we know how to sail our own ships
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 9:01 PM UTC
Singing Oh Happy Day!!
Sister Act Oh Happy Day HD
h ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6zT8AyfsFmA
Oh Happy Day - The Edwin Hawkins Singers
h ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EfGDvDGE7zk
Oh Happy Day
h ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8cJJGgRlQi8
seeing since I am at the Hawaiian Brian's shop and there are um, no speakers to be found, lets just plaster a few and hope one sticks with some true grit and giddy *** my trigger girl.
Aretha Franklin: Oh Happy Day
h ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wb7D-W-QW-8
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 10:49 PM UTC
'She walks in beauty' as 'a phantom of delight,'
The one evicted from his darkest night,
Her' raven' hair draped around her shoulders,
Laying next to him in 'silken tent',
Wanted just 'a slice of wedding cake'
Her beautiful spirit captured,
Sent to early sorrows death by 'solitary reaper',
Taken on' May- day',
She was the' light of living days',
Before tragically taking her 'survivor's leave'
He left her for another,
Took another younger lover,
It was their wedding cake,
She so desired,
It was to be their wedding day,
Before her heart he did thou break,
Her life was stolen,
Tragically by own fair hand,
As her sweetheart whom she'd trusted,
Greeted' the chorus of the newly dead'
The sun rising before she flew away,
Back to night realms,
To rest in peace.
Used poetry titles from classic works to create this poem.
Lord Byron, William Wordsworth, Alfred Lord Tennyson, Edgar Allan Poe, Robert Lee Frost,Robert Graves, Wordsworth,Ralph Waldron Emerson,Thomas Moore, Charles Causley, John Dunne and Edwin Muir. Thank you for reading.
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
This is a bit of a mish mash, but it was quite fun
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 11:17 AM UTC
“Call on Rama! call to Rama!
Oh, my brothers, call on Rama!
For this Dead
Whom we bring,
Call aloud to mighty Rama.
As we bear him, oh, my brothers,
Call together, very loudly,
That the Bhûts
May be scared;
That his spirit pass in comfort.
Turn his feet now, calling "Rama,"
Calling "Rama," who shall take him”
“When the flames
Make an end:
Ram! Ram!—oh, call to Rama.”
-Edwin Arnold.
Jul 9, 2020
Jul 9, 2020 at 1:29 AM UTC
Joy in the Morning
by Michael R. Burch
for my grandparents George Edwin Hurt and Christine Ena Hurt
There will be joy in the morning
now this long twilight is over
and their separation has ended.
For fourteen years, he had not seen her
whom he first befriended,
then courted and married.
Let there be joy, and no mourning,
for now in his arms she is carried
over a threshold vastly sweeter.
He never lost her; she only tarried
until he was able to meet her.
Keywords/Tags: George Edwin Hurt Christine Ena Spouse reunited heaven joy together forever
Apr 7, 2020
Apr 7, 2020 at 6:01 AM UTC
Drove 75 miles each way
To see Colbie Callait,
Somewhere in Connecticut,
That was back
In 2009,
Maybe 2010,
Maybe 2011.
Enjoyed it immensely,
Other than
The only thing
Older than me
At the concert
Was the building
It was held in.
And everybody at work made fun of me.
Took my woman
Downtown to the
High Line Ballroom
A few years back,
Edwin McCain,
He sang
I'll Be.
It was fine,
Other than
I was the tallest person
Standing on line.
Last year
Danced on a conga line
Led by Pink Martini,
At Carnegie Hall.
Ain't embarrassed to admit,
They dragged me from my front row seat,
Kicking n' screaming,
Hope nobody was videotaping!
At the Beacon on Broadway,
Saw Paul Simon and
Straight No Chaser,
And I would do it again in a
A Capella second.
This year,
High up at Lincoln Center,
Overlooking Central Park and
My city sparkling,
Saw Ingrid Michaelson singing,
It's OK.
She was giggling,
Cause it was so fun, for her,
To act so grown up.
Her parents and sisters
Even came to see her.
Sometime ago saw Marc Cohn, singing,
Don't remember when, don't recall,
Walking in Memphis,
Even tho both of us were at
City Center on West Forty Third Street.
At the City Winery,
In NoHo
Don Felder did Hotel California,
Went to the backstage partee
Cause I was around when
he first penned it,
When he was still part of the Eagles.
For an old geezer,
Born in 1901,
I'm pretty cool,
Despite the occasional mistake.
But I know better than to go to see
Justin Bieber,
Way too cool for that,
So those ticket to
Taylor Swift,
Ripped,
Having never seen
the light of day,
I think I even pretended to
Throw them away...
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
Joy in the Morning
by Michael R. Burch
for my grandparents George Edwin Hurt and Christine Ena Hurt
There will be joy in the morning
now this long twilight is over
and their separation has ended.
For fourteen years, he had not seen her
whom he first befriended,
then courted and married.
Let there be joy, and no mourning,
for now in his arms she is carried
over a threshold vastly sweeter.
He never lost her; she only tarried
until he was able to meet her.
Keywords/Tags: George Edwin Hurt Christine Ena Spouse reunited heaven joy together forever
Apr 6, 2020
Apr 6, 2020 at 4:07 AM UTC
'She walks in beauty' as 'a phantom of delight,'
The one evicted from his darkest night,
Her' raven' hair draped around her shoulders,
Laying next to him in 'silken tent',
Wanted just 'a slice of wedding cake'
Her beautiful spirit captured,
Sent to early sorrows death by 'solitary reaper',
Taken on' May- day',
She was the' light of living days',
Before tragically taking her 'survivor's leave'
He left her for another,
Took another younger lover,
It was their wedding cake,
She so desired,
It was to be their wedding day,
Before her heart he did thou break,
Her life was stolen,
Tragically by own fair hand,
As her sweetheart whom she'd trusted,
Greeted' the chorus of the newly dead'
The sun rising before she flew away,
Back to night realms,
To rest in peace.
Used poetry titles from classic works to create this poem.
Lord Byron, William Wordsworth, Alfred Lord Tennyson, Edgar Allan Poe, Robert Lee Frost,Robert Graves, Wordsworth,Ralph Waldron Emerson,Thomas Moore, Charles Causley, John Dunne and Edwin Muir. Thank you for reading.
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 9:32 AM UTC
I MISS ME
I have been searching every dormitory of mine heart
Soul and mind, searching in every room,
Even the toilets of mine mind have not seen you,
Thought they would bear witness of you
Being flashed away down the drain of memories,
In the dungeons of mine excruciating soul
You are not there,
Really I long to be with you,
Yes I miss you.
I MIC MYSELF
By Edwin Chawa$$ Chawabvunza
11/07/14
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC