"kyra" poems
Kyra is a painter, but she's colorblind.
She makes someone else's world colorful but hers is grey.
Whenever she draws in the middle of spring afternoon, she tends to whispers to the singing bird on her shoulder.
"For whom I draw still hasn't been decided, and I wish to meet my muse soon after the season's end."
Two days after spring.
She's being asked to attend her friend's rehearsal.
A pair of her brown eyes is glued to the pianist as his melody hits her right. His fingers gracefully dance in tuts, faster than anyone's breathe, but not so fast compared to Kyra's hand sketching him.
"I find my muse." She whispers in happiness. Gaze falls to the quick sketch on her hand.
She asks her friend about his name, eyes sparkles with love, so pure, so honest.
"His name is Will. He's special like you."
Her brows furrow in confusion as she skips a heartbeat.
"Special? Like me?"
"He's a pianist but he's deaf."
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 10:50 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
pretty girl,
with so much regret,
it makes you feel such great pain,
cheering her up would be the best way,
when shes haunted by the upperclass,
i just want to be the one,
to make sure ,
that her life,
will be fluttered by happiness,
and joy,
to be comfortable with her body,
and her health,
we've been in the same boat,
too many times,
and i dont have a reason not to love her,
i couldnt be more sure,
in my life,
i use to be the same way,
when i thought noone loved me,
but i was strong on my own,
so i distant that memory,
and now im in love once again,
with a girl im trying to put good spirits in,
and when she goes away,
hard not to cry again,
when she tells that noone cares,
i smile and say i do,
and i do,
but not just care,
its more like love,
they wouldnt dare,
mess me up,
from what i want,
and what i want is her,
no matter how far we are,
i know shes there,
half across the earth,
if i had a wish,
it would be next to her.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 6:38 PM UTC
His drunken fingers fumbling
And the slurring of his
Demands to be quiet
Make me sick.
Take it like a woman.
I am tougher than anyone.
**** it up,
Grow a spine.
So I stuffed it down.
I swallowed the bile
And clenched my stomach
Every time I smelled
The stench of his odor
Passing by me.
That’s what is
expected of me.
**** it up,
Grow a spine.
What’s done is done.
Keep your eyes forward,
Keep going,
And move on.
I am a woman
And when I say no
The mans word trumps
What I want.
**** it up,
Grow a spine.
I live in a mans world
So I have to keep it shut
Or I will be the next ****
Because the mans word is truth.
There is no
His word against mine.
Just his.
**** it up,
Grow a spine.
It’s my womaness at fault
Even though I said no.
When a woman says no,
It really means yes.
When a woman tells the truth
It really means fallacies
And delusions.
It means she wanted it.
**** it up,
Grow a spine.
So I did.
I told the truth anyways.
I stood up for myself anyways.
I fought for myself anyways.
I ****** it up,
And grew a spine.
by Kyra Jones
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 7:03 AM UTC
Kyra, Dad's got some paper and pens
and that's it
A cup of tea at 1am'll
push him just a little bit further
to finish all of his scrawl
about the things in the world you deserve
and how he'll go get it all
He'll push the pen to the page
at an age that you can't read or write
But it's more about holding himself accountable
to the crawling days
and if your smile stays
at least he'll know he did some things right
By the time you read this
you'll be learning how to doggy paddle
Through swimming pools full of stuffed animals, on tuesdays
And on days that start with "S"
You'll be air lifted in a fairy costume
to the civic center
so we can see the what's it's on Ice
And i promise I'll stop smoking
and at night you'll have a team of interpretive dancers
teaching you and your 9 ponies the classics
in a better way than I can tell em...cuz I have this whole monotone thing...that I do
But I'll be there the whole time
to try to fight back the impulse I feel
to steer for you on every step, and miss step
Because I know you won't forever need me here
You been the freest spirit, since the day we first met.
And if you're reading this and I'm bald
maybe take it easy on me....I'm pretty sensitive about it.
By the time you read this,
I'll have put the work I needed in
to pay whatever school to teach you everything you wanna know
and I promise I'll quit smoking
and I promise I'l never make you feel like less than everything to me
and though your father may have been a failure when he found you
The sparks that you emitted through his heart that night,
with fingers wrapped around his thumb,
erupted seas of roaring flame around his very soul
bolstering a furnace to replace the heart you stole
the foundry drove his will that night
and has done ever since,
even when all he does have
is paper and some pens.
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 12:12 AM UTC
Hello, past me.
I am you, but now eighteen.
I wanted to tell you
All of the things you have to look forward to,
And the things you will dread.
You will move away from our old home. You will lose friends like Jenah, who was there all along but you lost touch somewhere in the middle.
You will watch your best friend begin the transition of his life. It'll be confusing, and you will question yourself, but when you fully understand the word transgender and genderqueer you will find yourself again.
You will be heartbroken. By both boys and girls. You will get torn down each time. But you will build yourself back up.
You will start smoking.
But it helps you stop harming.
Nana will pass when you start high school.
But you will battle through it.
Olivia will go off to the military. You'll talk to her every few months. You won't talk to Kyra, or Chris, or Richele.
You will break Madi's heart.
But you will graduate high school. You will see the mackinac bridge, and Washington DC and start to drive. You will make new friends online and in person, and you will be an honorary aunt. You will meet a little boy by the name of Chase who will literally save your life.
It gets better. I promise.
Love,
Your 18 year old self.
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 9:40 PM UTC
If my dad were still alive, he'd say,
"Kyra I didn't raise you to be this way,"
"I'm so disappointed in you, you're squandering your youth,"
"Didn't amount to much in College, and can't keep a job,"
"You're lazy and a slob, and I don't like your tattoos,"
"I think you cut your hair too short,"
"I don't know what to do with you,"
He'd say, "Your financial skills are lacking, you run off with those the same gender as you,"
"And you're always moving around, with your head in the clouds."
And I know it's all true.
But daddy, I grew up to be just like you.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 4:37 AM UTC
2 a.m is the time of brilliance,
and it's also the time of complete stupidity.
It's the time where you call it quits for the night,
or take that one ***** shot too many.
It's that make it or break it moment of going home,
or going home with your best friends crush.
It's the time when we drunkenly tell people we love them,
even if we don't mean it.
We also drunkenly tell people we hate them,
and we often don't mean that too.
But sometimes we actually do mean both these things,
and just don't have the ***** to say it except at this beloved time.
We think about that person we have been crushing on,
and sometimes we get the courage to call.
But then quickly hang up when we hear the first ring.
And then kick ourselves for being vulnerable.
It's the time where a good portion of humans are conceived.
Purposely or not.
It's the time when families are often birthed.
And ripped apart.
It's the time when tears seep into pillows
and kids learn to internalize self hatred.
It's when they learn how to control it,
often with with *** blades, or alcohol.
It's when people let their facade down and pour out their skeletons.
Or rebuild it back up just to endure another day.
It's the time when creatives create.
It's also the time when they create lots of ****
It's when beauty happens,
and ugly.
Perfect syzygy,
and cataclysm.
Life.
It's all just life.
By Kyra Jones
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 6:55 AM UTC
I'd have Kyra Sedgewick's face as the face,
a combination of the bodies of Kathryn McPhee and Serena Williams as the body,
the wardrobe of Martha Quinn the old MTV personality broadcaster
Kylee Harting
the personality of Lucille Ball,
the character of Jane Addam, perhaps, the founder of Social Work in old time Chicago
the voice of Caila Ali
the sense of humor of Phyllis Diller,
the posture of Condaleeza Rice
the leadership ability of Elizabeth Warren
the lifestyle of either Monica the soul singer or Janet Jackson
and then name her Kyra Williams in honor of Kyra and Serena
plus the creativity of the know by some - black poets Nikki Giovanni
and the athleticism of pro tennis player (ex) Jennifer Capriati
with a little of pro tennis player Maria Sharapova
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 11:30 AM UTC
When I wake up,
my mind tries to **** my body
And plays delusions like a cruel hobby.
My mind gave up long ago,
so my heart doesn't receive the message
instructing it to beat or feel the wreckage.
My blood now sits stagnant
in my chilled arteries and veins
saving the life left bound in heartbroken chains.
By Kyra L. Jones
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 12:13 AM UTC
In times of trouble and becoming weary
All the pain people must carry.
Hiding all the fear that makes us insane
Hiding the tears that fall like rain.
Depression is here every day and night
It can not be seen so it stays out of sight.
Pain lies within everyone
For this young girl, the pain has won.
Loneliness consumes us as it eats away the years
Until our lives are swallowed by unending fears.
Sometimes people can not be helped
This is what we all have felt.
Problem after problem
Hearts are full of trouble from the top, to the bottom.
Hearts are broken, lies are made, Empty promises,
They are all the same.
Depression spreads one by one
This time the pain has won.
By Kyra Wallace
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 1:45 PM UTC