"myra" poems - Hello Poetry

between the breaths, the boredom, the blues, the ***** the smokes, the sacrifices, the smiles, the sadness, the snooze the poems, the problems, the pros and the cons the needles, the nobodies, the neurotics, the loose the careless, the fearless, the dreamless, who knows the tulip, the lilac, the jasmine, the rose the suns, the moons, the earth, the birth the nights, the fights, the lies arise the loneliness among the hate, the fate, the date delayed the loneliness along the tongue, a song, wrong, wrong the loneliness inside the heart, a part apart, from the start the loneliness, the loneliness, the loneliness... "and the crowd, so many people, and the cries, the laughs, the whispers... Too many mouths talking in my ear, my left ear Is it the chaos of unphysical presences ? But I touch them, I see them, I hear them... And nobody is here" -- Myra -- Watercolour

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Oct 5, 2016

Oct 5, 2016 at 9:44 PM UTC

EleanorRigby

Loneliness

between the breaths, the boredom, the blues, the ***** the smokes, the sacrifices, the smiles, the sadness, the snooze the poems, the problems, the pros and the cons the needles, the nobodies, the neurotics, the loose the careless, the fearless, the dreamless, who knows the tulip, the lilac, the jasmine, the rose the suns, the moons, the earth, the birth the nights, the fights, the lies arise the loneliness among the hate, the fate, the date delayed the loneliness along the tongue, a song, wrong, wrong the loneliness inside the heart, a part apart, from the start the loneliness, the loneliness, the loneliness... "and the crowd, so many people, and the cries, the laughs, the whispers... Too many mouths talking in my ear, my left ear Is it the chaos of unphysical presences ? But I touch them, I see them, I hear them... And nobody is here" -- Myra -- Watercolour

22

March 26th my beloved and beautiful sister passed away. Her son found her in her bedroom in the morning; the medics couldn't revive her and said her heart had collapsed. My nephew and I are in a daze, the loss seems unbearable. She was a very talented poet. Please go to her poems on hp and celebrate her writing. She is listed under: Kathleen Myra Colby. I will always love and miss her. Adelaide Caron Dyson. (04/10/12)

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Apr 10, 2012

Apr 10, 2012 at 1:01 PM UTC

adelaide-caron-dyson

For my beloved sister Kathleen

March 26th my beloved and beautiful sister passed away. Her son found her in her bedroom in the morning; the medics couldn't revive her and said her heart had collapsed. My nephew and I are in a daze, the loss seems unbearable. She was a very talented poet. Please go to her poems on hp and celebrate her writing. She is listed under: Kathleen Myra Colby. I will always love and miss her. Adelaide Caron Dyson. (04/10/12)

8

On the road trying to make a few bucks, it's not like the old days. A lotta' miles and not many big hits since he and Myra parted ways. He's still mean as a snake and smart as a fox. He still plays like his soul's possessed. He's asleep next door, passed out on the floor. It's time to get him sober and dressed. There'll be another show tonight, a whole lotta' shaken' and maybe a few hillbilly tunes. Whether he knocks 'em dead and leaves them yelling for more depends on pills and liquor consumed. There will be a hole in his heart and the tears will start when the lights go black. The King has gone, he's taken his songs and he's not coming back. Aw, man, we started the whole ****** thing, didn't we? We made Sun shine bright from that hole in the wall in Memphis, Tennessee. Now, stop and think and pour him a drink. Sit him up in bed. Give him the word, tell him what we just heard. Tell him Elvis Presley's dead. Somebody go wake up Jerry Lee Lewis. Get that ********* hillbilly out of the bed. Wait till he looks you straight in the eye and tell the Killer the King is dead.

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Mar 15, 2017

Mar 15, 2017 at 2:51 PM UTC

ronny-elliott

Tell The Killer The King Is Dead

On the road trying to make a few bucks, it's not like the old days. A lotta' miles and not many big hits since he and Myra parted ways. He's still mean as a snake and smart as a fox. He still plays like his soul's possessed. He's asleep next door, passed out on the floor. It's time to get him sober and dressed. There'll be another show tonight, a whole lotta' shaken' and maybe a few hillbilly tunes. Whether he knocks 'em dead and leaves them yelling for more depends on pills and liquor consumed. There will be a hole in his heart and the tears will start when the lights go black. The King has gone, he's taken his songs and he's not coming back. Aw, man, we started the whole ****** thing, didn't we? We made Sun shine bright from that hole in the wall in Memphis, Tennessee. Now, stop and think and pour him a drink. Sit him up in bed. Give him the word, tell him what we just heard. Tell him Elvis Presley's dead. Somebody go wake up Jerry Lee Lewis. Get that ********* hillbilly out of the bed. Wait till he looks you straight in the eye and tell the Killer the King is dead.

5

I cannot replace a loss like Kathy Who inspired my world of rhyme Who encouraged my neatest metaphors And urged me take the time She cheered me to the loftiest And made me reach plateaus I never even knew before I'd have the will to go She was a poet and an angel This human in disguise She touched my life and made me see A world beyond my skies She kept my quill original And made my words more wise She'll come by I know she will Each time my fire dies Copyright Louis Brown

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Apr 15, 2012

Apr 15, 2012 at 4:47 PM UTC

louisbrown

Inspiration Personified The Late Kathleen Myra Colby

I cannot replace a loss like Kathy Who inspired my world of rhyme Who encouraged my neatest metaphors And urged me take the time She cheered me to the loftiest And made me reach plateaus I never even knew before I'd have the will to go She was a poet and an angel This human in disguise She touched my life and made me see A world beyond my skies She kept my quill original And made my words more wise She'll come by I know she will Each time my fire dies Copyright Louis Brown

17

How do they call you, those who’ve passed through unmarked twin doors for the shy side of one century? Is it as Nicholas of Myra, or of Bari, or as an unlocated saint, working wonders in this home of trim white-stone block, with three tiers of black- arches, frowning up at the merciless grids behind? Rows, rows, rows, they float on glassy, steel-blue oceans, and these oceans will fall in violent, cascading, millennial waves unlike any with foam caps that once lapped the rocky coast of lost Lycia-- your see our maps don’t contain, and our licit hosannas won’t reach. Who are they who pray here? Bakers, sailors, bankers, all whose sighs rise with a torrent of immigrant chants liaison rafters fracture in echo-song, the old coinage that plies your favor. To which patron can they turn when your cross crowns not the work of masons but one day’s rubble, a tongue without a bell, the charred relics of unnameable acts?

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Aug 15, 2010

Aug 15, 2010 at 1:16 PM UTC

francis-scudellari

Saint Nicholas

How do they call you, those who’ve passed through unmarked twin doors for the shy side of one century? Is it as Nicholas of Myra, or of Bari, or as an unlocated saint, working wonders in this home of trim white-stone block, with three tiers of black- arches, frowning up at the merciless grids behind? Rows, rows, rows, they float on glassy, steel-blue oceans, and these oceans will fall in violent, cascading, millennial waves unlike any with foam caps that once lapped the rocky coast of lost Lycia-- your see our maps don’t contain, and our licit hosannas won’t reach. Who are they who pray here? Bakers, sailors, bankers, all whose sighs rise with a torrent of immigrant chants liaison rafters fracture in echo-song, the old coinage that plies your favor. To which patron can they turn when your cross crowns not the work of masons but one day’s rubble, a tongue without a bell, the charred relics of unnameable acts?

40

Waterloo bridge Vehicles come and go Myra Lester Wanders to and fro The past be not here The mind goes nowhere Deafening horn Warns inches to go Grating howl Crys with a blow Sky tears through the air Weeps the world or hell Waterloo bridge River flows east below Roy Cronin Stands feels for her soul Water chants to tell Much to hear or bear by Shun

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Dec 4, 2012

Dec 4, 2012 at 3:45 AM UTC

fakefool

Waterloo Bridge

Waterloo bridge Vehicles come and go Myra Lester Wanders to and fro The past be not here The mind goes nowhere Deafening horn Warns inches to go Grating howl Crys with a blow Sky tears through the air Weeps the world or hell Waterloo bridge River flows east below Roy Cronin Stands feels for her soul Water chants to tell Much to hear or bear by Shun

19

A thought came to me While we were tugging at Each other's wits Why can't we just leave Just get out I've had my doubts But won't stop Till you prove them wrong It's tough This blood It's rough This blood Solitary lonesome blues A harmonica should echo Our each and every step Cause it's so so bitter But so much more sweeter Then they could ever imagine They shatter When they chatter Oh, how they shatter And Myra knew the pain Of being upside-down A gene that some genie's taken over Repulsive attractive mess I'll be me Just stay you And we could be ok The sweet sting of the middle Might be ok

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Nov 26, 2011

Nov 26, 2011 at 12:19 AM UTC

lucy-tonic

This Blood

A thought came to me While we were tugging at Each other's wits Why can't we just leave Just get out I've had my doubts But won't stop Till you prove them wrong It's tough This blood It's rough This blood Solitary lonesome blues A harmonica should echo Our each and every step Cause it's so so bitter But so much more sweeter Then they could ever imagine They shatter When they chatter Oh, how they shatter And Myra knew the pain Of being upside-down A gene that some genie's taken over Repulsive attractive mess I'll be me Just stay you And we could be ok The sweet sting of the middle Might be ok

30

Since he fifth century, the feast of St Nicholas was celebrated December 25th little is known of his life except that in the fourth century he was Bishop of Myra( in modern day Turkey ) Legend has it that his wishing to aid people in need and do so anonymously, he would throw small bags of gold in their windows The bags would land in the stocking hung by the fireplace to dry Other stories from Germany of a Man and his wife who had a toy shop The poor children would look in the window of the storefront at all the beautiful hand made toys their parents could not afford so on Christmas Eve the couple would Put a toy on the porch of every child’s house Legends of generosity encouraged others to give gifts at this time of year But in the 16th century some reformers felt Nicholas was too closely identified with the Catholic Church and replaced him with other figures in Germany and England’s Father Christmas The name of St Nicholas survived however, through adapted to various languages Sinterlaus in Dutch, became Santa Claus in English It was Clement Moore in the famous poem “The Night Before Christmas” who equipped Santa Claus with a sleigh, reindeers,a pipe,a bag and an entry through the chimney The true reason for the season is the Birth of Jesus It’s a Birthday party We need to give Jesus gifts as well as others My Gifts to name a few The Gift of love, faith, belief Well you get the idea What do you have for Jesus this year!

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Dec 20, 2017

Dec 20, 2017 at 12:23 AM UTC

cj-sutherland

St Nicholas fact or fiction

Since he fifth century, the feast of St Nicholas was celebrated December 25th little is known of his life except that in the fourth century he was Bishop of Myra( in modern day Turkey ) Legend has it that his wishing to aid people in need and do so anonymously, he would throw small bags of gold in their windows The bags would land in the stocking hung by the fireplace to dry Other stories from Germany of a Man and his wife who had a toy shop The poor children would look in the window of the storefront at all the beautiful hand made toys their parents could not afford so on Christmas Eve the couple would Put a toy on the porch of every child’s house Legends of generosity encouraged others to give gifts at this time of year But in the 16th century some reformers felt Nicholas was too closely identified with the Catholic Church and replaced him with other figures in Germany and England’s Father Christmas The name of St Nicholas survived however, through adapted to various languages Sinterlaus in Dutch, became Santa Claus in English It was Clement Moore in the famous poem “The Night Before Christmas” who equipped Santa Claus with a sleigh, reindeers,a pipe,a bag and an entry through the chimney The true reason for the season is the Birth of Jesus It’s a Birthday party We need to give Jesus gifts as well as others My Gifts to name a few The Gift of love, faith, belief Well you get the idea What do you have for Jesus this year!

30