"kirby" poems
If I'm a plumber then she's my princess peach,
if she's Zelda, then I'm her Link.
If my life was Contra, then she's my Konami Code.
Can't you tell ny Lady is the subject of this ode?
If she's Curly Brace then I'm her counterpart Quote,
Seriously, I'm in love with her if you didn't catch it I left a few notes,
If I'm the Belmonts, then she's the vampire killer,
if I'm Michael, she's my thriller.
If I'm Pac-Man, then she's my Miss
If I'm Alucard, then she's my transformation into mist
If I'm Kirby then she's waddle Dee,
quite frankly this is getting sappy so I'll get to the point.
I love this girl more than a stoner loves a joint.
(bonus points if you can name all the games referenced, and the Konami Code)
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC
Beyond your television
Lies vast hills,
along with many jumps and much thrill
Mario jumps
Zelda swings
As Kirby swallows
Donkey kong beats,
Star fox flies ever so high
While niko goes bowling
Roman started to cry
Meta knight stares ominously
As a goomba cautiously walks
A turtle shell turns blue
While the Mario kart racers get mad too....
We all know sleeping dogs don't lie
We joined a guild during an MMO war
Where we smashed every single one of our keyboards
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 11:06 AM UTC
My pups are in bed,
both tightly together.
They need their head(s),
because of the weather!
The ground is so wet,
such clouds in the sky!
They shiver, like threat:
I 'd ask myself, "why?!"
Seeing me, they get up.
Yoshi watches as Kirby grins.
Clawing our door, both of my pup,
would be as just the cutest twins!
I open the door, for them.
They'd sit, being so gracious.
Being just the cutest gem(s),
my dogs, they're precious!
They perform their neat tricks:
both wait for their sweet treat.
I’d give each one, transfix(ed),
of course they then both eat!
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 10:29 PM UTC
On the first day of Christmas, my Kirby gave to me: a bowl full of doggy food.
On the second day of Christmas, my Kirby gave to me: two sloppy kisses and a bowl full of doggy food.
On the third day of Christmas, my Kirby gave to me: three doggy biscuits, two sloppy kisses, and a bowl full of doggy food.
On the fourth day of Christmas, my Kirby gave to me: four doggy beds, three doggy biscuits, two sloppy kisses, and a bowl full of doggy food.
On the fifth day of Christmas, my Kirby gave to me: five carrots, four doggy beds, three doggy biscuits, two sloppy kisses, and a bowl full of doggy food.
On the sixth day of Christmas, my Kirby gave to me: six yummy greenies, five carrots, four doggy beds, three doggy biscuits, two sloppy kisses, and a bowl full of doggy food.
On the seventh day of Christmas, my Kirby gave to me: seven scents to smell, six yummy greenies, five carrots, four doggy beds, three doggy biscuits, two sloppy kisses, and a bowl full of doggy food.
On the eighth day of Christmas, my Kirby gave to me: eight freshies hidden, seven scents to smell, six yummy greenies, five carrots, four doggy beds, three doggy biscuits, two sloppy kisses, and a bowl full of doggy food.
On the ninth day of Christmas, my Kirby gave to me: nine ****** markings, eight freshies hidden, seven scents to smell, six yummy greenies, five carrots, four doggy beds, three doggy biscuits, two sloppy kisses, and a bowl full of doggy food.
On the tenth day of Christmas, my Kirby gave to me: ten tails a-waggin', nine ****** markings, eight freshies hidden, seven scents to smell, six yummy greenies, five carrots, four doggy beds, three doggy biscuits, two sloppy kisses, and a bowl full of doggy food.
On the eleventh day of Christmas, my Kirby gave to me: eleven rawhides hidden, ten tails a-waggin', nine ****** markings, eight freshies hidden, seven scents to smell, six yummy greenies, five carrots, four doggy beds, three doggy biscuits, two sloppy kisses, and a bowl full of doggy food.
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my Kirby gave to me: twelve stuffed buddies, eleven rawhides hidden, ten tails a-waggin', nine ****** markings, eight freshies hidden, seven scents to smell, six yummy greenies, five carrots, four doggy beds, three doggy biscuits, two sloppy kisses, and a bowl full of doggy food.
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 3:03 AM UTC
Julie,
I can not be there with you now,
But you'll always feel me near, my dear.
Look deep into your heart and soul.
Let the love around you forever grow.
Turning sixteen is such a big milestone,
Always know you're never alone.
Grandma Kirby
Thank you..
My sweet one..
I will always remember you,
Grandma..
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
Trolling Amazon I found my inner Kurtz
Harrison foreswore my bear totem: darkness
Lady gal pal taught me soul-mating hurts
Martha Muffins vinyl v. Kirby’s Agatha Harkness
Saved my twins made them productive
Mutating FF X to Avengers indie 80s on me take
Man-starring all the boogie children say code this grandpa
Gaiman Miller Moore Morrison invade Waid
Wrightson Kaluta Jones Smith put bronze to paint
McKean Sienkiewicz Mack Maleev mimic The Studio
Now let’s gallery our portals strung from kid dimensions
Makers engaging history NOW NEW 52 intervals starstruck
Spread indie throughout known multiverse in craft crooks
While nursing nannies coddle light corners scuttling roaches
Bell & Schrödinger's cat transport trainspotting to a fine art
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
Where are you?
The crowd tries to bustle
the tickets out of my clenched hands
I cannot seem to find you.
For a second, there! a flash of you,
vanishing as a corner carries you away
I know you're near, but not
what's happening
Are you running towards the gate?
Or away from me?
Find a bar, meet a new friend
Steps 1 and 2 in a magic spell
3 sips, a story, 4 drinks, and you're on an adventure
while
I am the gatekeeper
The Fire Lord to your Avatar, the Sauron to your Frodo,
trying to trap you at
every turn.
But that is ok.
Fight me, triumph over me,
throw my ring in the fires
I'd rather see that than,
see you get stuck at this
****** airport
you have your own adventures to live
worlds to travel,
magic to share.
you are my love, my hero, the one who triumphs
over evil, the elven star to my Shelob's lair, the
gandolf to my Balrog, the s.h.i.e.l.d. to my H.Y.D.R.A.
the kirby to my Galeem,
the nephalem to my Diablo.
not just that-
you are
little moments
of light found in between
the chaos of time
You are
everything I imagined
and more
when my world was dark,
and the only hope I could cling to
was the idea of my future,
and perhaps the someone, (that heroes always meet)
who drives away the darkness
and holds their hand.
You are the one to see the world with
the destination of my travels,
the one to land with.
my partner.
but
not if, to you,
I am the gatekeeper.
and I'd rather be the gatekeeper
(even if it means you know what)
than watch you get stuck
and your magic fade
and your steps falter
and your soul struggle
to breathe, and you
hate yourself,
I'd rather you hate me
and get out of this airport
because otherwise,
evil would
truly win. and that
that is what
would end me.
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 12:59 PM UTC
A Thanksgiving poem for all.
Morning wood
Morning wood my inconvenient friend,
Morning wood you woke me up again,
Morning wood fronting like a kickstand,
Morning wood oft held by groggy hand,
Morning wood I steady for a wee.
on the floor. on the bowl. please don't land on me!
Morning wood born from a bladder full,
Morning wood my friend, my favorite tool.
By John Kirby
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 5:48 PM UTC
Like a thief, he came and took her “life”~
As though he thought he had a right.
A little girl so strong and bold~
Was laid to rest, her joy gone cold.
It only took one evil choice
to destroy her innocence and leave her void.
A void that filled so much of her
with satan’s lies and destructive words.
But one night as the child cried out in shame
for some reason to live ~ He called her name.
A God so faithful, kind, and true~
Reached out His love, and made her new.
~~~~
A young teen girl who’d saved that right
for her husband on their wedding night.
Was robbed of something she’d vowed to treasure
for a young man’s evil, selfish pleasure.
A selfish act that changed her path~
Created in her such hate and wrath.
But one night as the girl searched again
for some reason to live~ He called her name.
A God so faithful, kind, and true~
Reached out His love, and made her new.
~~~~
A battered woman, tired and weak
from empty promises he wouldn’t keep.
Stared in the mirror at empty eyes
that only saw his deceit and lies.
Her baby sleeping in the night~
Pills filled her hand to end her life.
But that night as the woman screamed in pain
for some reason to live~ He called her name.
A God so faithful, kind, and true~
Reached out His love~
And made her~
NEW.
LA Kirby
3/27/09
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 5:26 PM UTC
My beagle is lying in his bed,
Sleeping with dreams in his head.
He looks cozy and comfy all tucked in,
With blankets all the way up to his chin.
He looks very lazy just sleeping there,
But he is alert when he opens his eyes to stare.
When the neighboring dog comes around,
My dog Kirby is going to be bound
To get up and bark with ferocious might
When the enemy dog is within his sight.
So anybody who passes by beware,
You are going to be under my dog's stare.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 6:23 PM UTC
Sometimes rhyme schemes ****
Like a Kirby or Bissell.
Rules I do not like!
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 2:56 PM UTC
"Taking It Home to Jerome"
by David Kirby
~~~
In Baton Rouge, there was a DJ on the soul station who was
always urging his listeners to ‘‘take it on home to Jerome.’’
No one knew who Jerome was. And nobody cared. So it
didn’t matter. I was, what, ten, twelve? I didn’t have anything
to take home to anyone. Parents and teachers told us that all
we needed to do in this world were three things: be happy,
do good, and find work that fulfills you. But I also wanted
to learn that trick where you grab your left ankle in your
right hand and then jump through with your other leg.
Everything else was to come, everything about love:
the sadness of it, knowing it can’t last, that all lives must end,
all hearts are broken. Sometimes when I’m writing a poem,
I feel as though I’m operating that crusher that turns
a full-sized car into a metal cube the size of a suitcase.
At other times, I’m just a secretary: the world has so much
to say, and I’m writing it down. This great tenderness.
---
A professor at Florida State University, David Kirby is the author of 12 collections of poetry, including ‘‘Get Up, Please,’’ which will be published next month by LSU Press.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 9:39 AM UTC
Drinking wine from water bottles
Losing the feeling of upper class
It is just another bottle to dive into
The haunted house on Kirby road
The single lit candle in the abandoned bathroom
Dogs barking on chains
Signs screaming private property
Driving through graveyards
Ashing on the dead
In small towns the gas meters don’t matter
As the youth hunt for fear
Disturbing the peace to find
The little girls grave.
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC
He shot Max.
My God. He shot Max.
Blood sprayed on the streets
at the uniform's feet.
They shot Kirby.
Oh Lord. They shot Kirby.
Bullet holes punch his flesh.
Pain radiates fresh.
She shot Kiki.
F**k me. She shot Kiki.
Inside her own fence?
You call that self-defense?
So man's best friend
comes to an end.
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 3:34 PM UTC
(born Stanley Martin Lieber /ˈliːbər/, December 28, 1922 – November 12, 2018) American comic-book writer, editor, and publisher. He was editor-in-chief of Marvel Comics, later its publisher and chairman, leading its expansion from a small division of a publishing house to a large multimedia corporation.
In collaboration with several artists –
particularly Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko –
he co-created fictional characters including
Spider-Man, the Hulk, Doctor Strange,
the Fantastic Four, Daredevil, Black Panther,
the X-Men, and – with his brother and
co-writer Larry Lieber – the characters of
Ant-Man, Iron Man, and Thor. In doing so,
he pioneered a more complex approach to
writing superheroes in the 1960s, and in the 1970s
challenged the standards of the Comics Code
Authority leading to it updating its policies.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 3:40 PM UTC
You came to me an empty shell. Or so you said. Your mask, your fake, your facade insidious with disregard. Take me take me take my broken spirit.....such an easy target....Kitchen Radio providing the soundtrack for the beginning of the end. The end of chances to be the center of someone's universe. Mr. Kirby and Ralph can attest: I was just a target....a country to be conquered. No war torn ruins for you to lord over. The only kingdom you rule is regret. Shine on with your patina of tarnished deeds. Let your isolation feed your lonliness..... so desperately sad that no heart is safe from your wrath. Blow upon blow-your words and silence each a fist for your fix. Your love a poison without cure......like Midas with no use for gold.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 11:47 PM UTC
Hi people! Just wanted to let you know that if something my poems seems confusing please feel free to message me. I've had a few people message me about "A Fighter"
This poem is not meant for destroying everything, It's meant to Assassins and a Creed of people who believe in the right over wrong. JUST SAYING. I am not perfect and Life here has been a little hectic lately so give me a break please? Also Thank you for Liking my poems for I have reached over 1,000 likes! Keep commenting and posting your poems as well and Have a wonderful day! :)
Also Follow Juliesen Night, Another account I own. The poems are breath taking and magical beyond belief! Love you all! Bye now! :D :D
-Julie Kirby
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 12:57 PM UTC
If I could create the perfect love.
I would sculpture an image of you.
Each form would be in your liken.
A crafted carving worth loving.
Whether it with wood.
Whether it with stone or plastic.
You can bet you be perfect.
On that pedestal you will stand.
With your arms reaching out to touch my hands.
I wouldn't alter you after I'm through.
Because I'm the artist that took time to make you.
Da vinci or Frazetta or Buscema or Kirby.
You'll be a prime example of the image of love.
Created by someone you will truly love.
This magical touch will leave an imprint.
With the words proclaiming at the bottom.
To the one I truly love.
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 9:48 PM UTC
The unequivocal sorcerer of slaughter,
I touched the altar and altered my saucer.
Also, I'm flying off the couch like a mortar;
Hoarding powder for that elusive boarder.
I'm bombarding the forest with sawdust,
Open up the squealer and I'll absorb ya.
Kirby the paupers, never mind impostors
From monsters to varmints via carnage;
I'm taking hostages from a cockpit locked in orbit
While you're too busy getting lost on shortcuts
Through the forest, like some forgotten tortoise.
I dream of beanstalks taller than the tallest,
All chopped up as fodder for my fortress;
I'll Trojan horse your forces as a florist
Then harvest your gardens with ordnance.
Ready the warships with torches-
It's turnips versus turrets,
And my furnace is fuming for your service;
No need to be nervous, I'm steady like a surgeon
And concern's always been for the toucans.
My archers carry shotguns for the turbulence,
Your thoughts hang like moss against a blank canvass
While mine climbs like vines towards madness;
I'll finish this with a sickle
And end up myth of the labyrinth.
-SLuR
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 2:18 PM UTC
If I could create the perfect love.
I would sculpture an image of you.
Each form would be in your liken.
A crafted carving worth loving.
Whether it with wood.
Whether it with stone or plastic.
You can bet you be perfect.
On that pedestal you will stand.
With your arms reaching out to touch my hands.
I wouldn't alter you after I'm through.
Because I'm the artist that took time to make you.
Da vinci or Frazetta or Buscema or Kirby.
You'll be a prime example of the image of love.
Created by someone you will truly love.
This magical touch will leave an imprint.
With the words proclaiming at the bottom.
To the one I truly love.
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 9:48 PM UTC
Our lives change in ways we can’t know.
What was last year is a fading memory of today.
So don’t be afraid that things will never change.
There’s a new life, if you want it, down the way.
You’re heartbroken and feeling all alone.
You talk of doom and gloom and being wronged.
Don’t be afraid that things will never change.
There’s a new life, if you speak it, down the way.
So you think happiness is just for someone else.
And that the wonders of life elude your path.
Don’t be afraid that things will never change.
There’s a new life, if you believe it, down the way.
LA Kirby
3/23/10
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 5:51 PM UTC
Passion, like a wave, sweeps over us
and carries us into a sea of confusion~
not knowing which way to turn.
LA Kirby
11/6/09
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 5:43 PM UTC
‘Where are you going, Sally Ann
Now the nights have become so dark,
Why do you get so restless, say
You want to walk in the park?’
I thought to sit by the fireside
Each time that she ventured out,
It’s cold and damp by the streetlight lamp,
So what was it all about?
‘I need to go where the wind will blow,
Feel the damp caressing my cheek,
The bracing air is a tonic there,
While you sit, and you never speak.
It gets so terribly warm in here,
I feel I can barely breathe,
You sit and enjoy your fireside chair
But me, I just have to leave.’
So I’d go and stare out the window
Just as she left, my Sally Ann,
The thought was crossing my mind just then
Was she meeting some other man?
The question sat on my lips at times
But I thought I’d better not say,
If once I questioned my Sally Ann
It might just drive her away.
I’d watch her stand at the kerbside edge
And ponder which way to go,
She’d walk by the village of Kirby Ledge
Or left, round the bungalow,
It happened often she’d cross the road
And wander off to the mill,
I knew she’d get to the park that way
The other side of the hill.
One night, the rain it came pelting down
I knew she’d be good and wet,
I went to the old umbrella stand
And thought I could catch her yet,
The wind was gusting, the rain blew in,
In flurries under my hood,
I barely could see the way she’d been,
In passing by Farley Wood.
I saw the light of a dim-lit torch
Flashing under the trees,
And wandered over to take a look
Though feeling weak in the knees,
A woman lay on a groundsheet there
Though he had covered her face,
I still could see that her limbs were bare
And thrashing all over the place.
‘Oh Sally Ann,’ I had sobbed, and ran,
While making my way back home,
I cursed the folly of coming out,
It was better I hadn’t known.
Then Sally Ann had opened the door
Said ‘Come in out of the rain.
I went to walk but I cut it short.’
I flew to her arms again.
David Lewis Paget
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 7:25 AM UTC
Hurting people hurt people
with words and actions they don’t mean.
Lashing out in fear and anger~
Afraid the truth will soon be seen.
They hide behind their cutting words
and hope no one will see~
The heart inside that’s ever bleeding
from pain they fear will always be.
LA Kirby
10/16/09
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 5:34 PM UTC
the Moon reminds of romance
- unrequited love
but as the years wane
-this love was perfected.
Jul 19, 2017
Jul 19, 2017 at 9:32 PM UTC