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"rena" poems
Starting from the newest, these are my first fifty followers on Hello Poetry. 1. Hailey L May 5 2. Elizabeth Squires May 4 3. Tim Knight May 3 4. Morgan Hanchulak May 3 5. Vi Snicket May 2 6. Jessica Applegate Apr 30 7. Himanshu Koshe Apr 30 8. Mike Winegar Apr 29 9. Joey Lapiana Apr 29 10. Christopher Munro Apr 29 11. Raffi Kaftajian Apr 26 12. Shari Forman Apr 25 13. Jessica Who Apr 24 14. RedWritingHood Apr 22 15. Adreishka Moonlight Apr 21 16. Rocky G Apr 19 17. Sarina Apr 18 18. John Moffatt Apr 17 19. Izisfat Apr 9 20. Leila Apr 8 21. Marian Apr 5 22. Star Toucher64 Mar 30 23. Michelle Mar 26 24. Kristo Frost Mar 25 25. Ra Mar 20 26. Jacqueline Melissa Woolums Mar 15 27. ennyo Mar 11 28. Ellen Menzies Mar 9 29. Jodi Casavant Mar 8 30. Jillyan Adams Feb 20 31. Hailey Scomet Feb 2 32. Pete Taken Alive Jan 17 33. Md HUDA Jan 6 34. Joshua Ohmer Jan 1 35. Quinn Puwang Dec 30, 2012 36. Rissa Ann Dec 10, 2012 37. Hilda Dec 9, 2012 38. Rena Julleitta Dec 7, 2012 39. Emily Rose Williams Dec 7, 2012 40. Abdosh A Dec 5, 2012 41. Naveena Vijayan Dec 4, 2012 42. Kristian Alexander George Dec 1, 2012 43. Oliver Delgaram-Nejad Dec 1, 2012 44. Chessnie Lea Nov 27, 2012 45. Ugochukwu-Charles Onyewuchi Nov 25, 2012 46. Timothy Nov 24, 2012 47. Who Am I Nov 24, 2012 48. Matthew P Hill Nov 23, 2012 49. Tomas Nov 21, 2012 I gained inspirations for my poems from all my followers, those who I follow and especially my lovely little one who brought me here to Hello Poetry first, to a safe haven of like-minded people with a poetic niche each. Thank you all. First of all I thank you Eliot York for creating this wonderful poetry blog. (-: And how can I ever thank you enough for introducing me to this wonderful website, just like Krishna guides Arjun in grand Mahabharata epic. You are my Krishna and I am your Arjun. :-) (-: You share the place with Eliot York and the family of Timothy sir for inspiring my poems & helping me define my poetic style. As you are a kid for me, your heart is a crystal to me from where I can see the world more clearly in a different way. :-)
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May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 7:02 AM UTC
My First Fifty Followers On Hello Poetry
Starting from the newest, these are my first fifty followers on Hello Poetry. 1. Hailey L May 5 2. Elizabeth Squires May 4 3. Tim Knight May 3 4. Morgan Hanchulak May 3 5. Vi Snicket May 2 6. Jessica Applegate Apr 30 7. Himanshu Koshe Apr 30 8. Mike Winegar Apr 29 9. Joey Lapiana Apr 29 10. Christopher Munro Apr 29 11. Raffi Kaftajian Apr 26 12. Shari Forman Apr 25 13. Jessica Who Apr 24 14. RedWritingHood Apr 22 15. Adreishka Moonlight Apr 21 16. Rocky G Apr 19 17. Sarina Apr 18 18. John Moffatt Apr 17 19. Izisfat Apr 9 20. Leila Apr 8 21. Marian Apr 5 22. Star Toucher64 Mar 30 23. Michelle Mar 26 24. Kristo Frost Mar 25 25. Ra Mar 20 26. Jacqueline Melissa Woolums Mar 15 27. ennyo Mar 11 28. Ellen Menzies Mar 9 29. Jodi Casavant Mar 8 30. Jillyan Adams Feb 20 31. Hailey Scomet Feb 2 32. Pete Taken Alive Jan 17 33. Md HUDA Jan 6 34. Joshua Ohmer Jan 1 35. Quinn Puwang Dec 30, 2012 36. Rissa Ann Dec 10, 2012 37. Hilda Dec 9, 2012 38. Rena Julleitta Dec 7, 2012 39. Emily Rose Williams Dec 7, 2012 40. Abdosh A Dec 5, 2012 41. Naveena Vijayan Dec 4, 2012 42. Kristian Alexander George Dec 1, 2012 43. Oliver Delgaram-Nejad Dec 1, 2012 44. Chessnie Lea Nov 27, 2012 45. Ugochukwu-Charles Onyewuchi Nov 25, 2012 46. Timothy Nov 24, 2012 47. Who Am I Nov 24, 2012 48. Matthew P Hill Nov 23, 2012 49. Tomas Nov 21, 2012 I gained inspirations for my poems from all my followers, those who I follow and especially my lovely little one who brought me here to Hello Poetry first, to a safe haven of like-minded people with a poetic niche each. Thank you all. First of all I thank you Eliot York for creating this wonderful poetry blog. (-: And how can I ever thank you enough for introducing me to this wonderful website, just like Krishna guides Arjun in grand Mahabharata epic. You are my Krishna and I am your Arjun. :-) (-: You share the place with Eliot York and the family of Timothy sir for inspiring my poems & helping me define my poetic style. As you are a kid for me, your heart is a crystal to me from where I can see the world more clearly in a different way. :-)
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55
When again in Joyous MAE where Weeping willows bow and sway and Martin swoops from hollowed eave to where Victoria bids us leave down railway track by home bound Duck and motion sickness makes us Chuck smelling salts from moonlight blossoms as Marian asks what's a possum Hilda and Tim try to explain as Bala steps onto this train he greets with smiles sweet Linda there as Edward offers him a chair Thoughts Forgotten as we chill my Dry Sapphire Gin I knock and spill cussing Profanity too loud I shock so many of this crowd Sammi Sweetie red of face covers the ears of Madison Grace Jerelii turns to poor Prabhu and asks him soft what can we do Frederick hands to her a tissue and Vijay says good luck I wish you Rena Em and poor old Quentin have not returned when they were sent in offering advice and gentle aide and Lee and Jimmy knelt and prayed Harlow ran and Blackmire followed both too afraid their courage swallowed Floaters pointed to Anon C and said aloud you come with me Something we knew was ours has gone but look his Sisters just got on So Daytonight spoke I'll cuff his ears to stop him swearing now my dears Embers knew shed blow her top so quickly Rose and said ... My stop
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Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 11:04 PM UTC
Friends Outing
After leaving port in March disguised as the Norwegian freighter Rena Norge, the Leopard set sail its mission to disrupt Allied commerce. On the 17 March it was stopped in the North Sea by the cruiser HMS Achilles and ordered to proceed to the boarding vessel HMS Dundee for inspection Heavily outgunned Captain the raider's commander Hans von Laffert had no option other to proceed to meet the boarding vessel. Captain Selwyn Day of the Dundee dispatched a launch containing a boarding party with an officer and five men to investigate the mysterious ship. Hans von Laffert realizing he was about to be discovered detained the party and after about an hour opened fire on the Dundee with a salvo of two torpedoes. The steamer manoeuvred out of the way barely in time and the torpedoes missed Captain Day's ship by twenty feet. Day ordered his guncrews to open fire and a hail of shells struck the Leopard damaging a gun and setting fires. The Achilles hearing the sound of gunfire returned to the scene and opened fire on the raider as the Dundee withdrew. Shortly after the Achilles's arrival the Leopard sank with all 319 hands going down with the ship. Damage to the British vessels was light and the only casualties consisted of the six boarding party members who were trapped in the Leopard when it sank.
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Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 8:26 PM UTC
WIKIPEDIA POETRY
Hours taken by sea butter sunshine gone to a chalky lavender smudge our feet made prints in piles of freckles skin tickled by heat are you in my head pirouetting between dreams or real as diamonds (so you’d know about kisses) you filled hollowness with petals cups of lust played my fragile xylophone like an expert swapped it for a piano made it sing you’re the pearl on my palm in a thunderstorm my sweet speck of dark magic at sunrise I pull away for you to tug me right back in again
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Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 3:35 PM UTC
In/Out (collaboration with Rena Julleitta)
she doesn't seem to have time for a sceptic like you, the stomach for a shot like you, respect for anyone who dresses acts or howls like you do at the darkness. for her the darkness is a hiding place, not everyone can see down here. for her, intelligence and in tegrity are hushed while clutching a north face who said it was ok to do so. but jesus said forgive her. and we're in boston so let's face it, everyone loves a redhead. no body notices the shards of rotting oak creating a biohazard near her temples, as long as the hair stays irish and that north face matches the free candy they're handing out uptown. but jesus didn't wash his hands before he ate candy. he didn't wash them after he caressed the lepers, he held his ***** palms up to the pharisees and said "this is what i've touched," then they told him he better put on a north face, and secretly they tried to read the future in his lifeline. first grade playground, greece: rena is getting chased again, because on this planet fat shaming works fine if you're trying to make some one cry. and i hopped that fence so fast, what would jesus do? and i got her to the other side, and i told my classmates to go away, but her skirt was caught in the wire and they got her to cry anyway. plus we must be lesbian lovers (why else would i help her?) plus i'm gonna catch her fat ness (how else could this virus be transferred?) and jesus was a carpenter. and jesus was a jew. and jesus ****** mary in the books that never made it, the ones they still keep hidden at the north face headquarters basement. and jesus saw rena and she was so slow, but gentle. and he said "it is not what she puts into her mouth that defileth her." and jesus saw us eat together, with mud under our nails. and jesus saw iscah's red tree filigree spiraling from her blank brainwashed eyes, and he saw the north face covering her true form, and he warned the pharisees that her clean hands do not sanctify her, the poison which escapes her mouth DOES defileth her because it was born of a cardiac poison, the coat she wears is the mark of the elders; and we shall wear what we want. the pharisees, of course, urged him to buy a north face. but jesus gave me these ***** palms instead, he flung them filthy in front of the elders' faces as he commanded me to love them as i would love myself. and i'm afraid to but i'll try.
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Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
jesus said forgive her
she doesn't seem to have time for a sceptic like you, the stomach for a shot like you, respect for anyone who dresses acts or howls like you do at the darkness. for her the darkness is a hiding place, not everyone can see down here. for her, intelligence and in tegrity are hushed while clutching a north face who said it was ok to do so. but jesus said forgive her. and we're in boston so let's face it, everyone loves a redhead. no body notices the shards of rotting oak creating a biohazard near her temples, as long as the hair stays irish and that north face matches the free candy they're handing out uptown. but jesus didn't wash his hands before he ate candy. he didn't wash them after he caressed the lepers, he held his ***** palms up to the pharisees and said "this is what i've touched," then they told him he better put on a north face, and secretly they tried to read the future in his lifeline. first grade playground, greece: rena is getting chased again, because on this planet fat shaming works fine if you're trying to make some one cry. and i hopped that fence so fast, what would jesus do? and i got her to the other side, and i told my classmates to go away, but her skirt was caught in the wire and they got her to cry anyway. plus we must be lesbian lovers (why else would i help her?) plus i'm gonna catch her fat ness (how else could this virus be transferred?) and jesus was a carpenter. and jesus was a jew. and jesus ****** mary in the books that never made it, the ones they still keep hidden at the north face headquarters basement. and jesus saw rena and she was so slow, but gentle. and he said "it is not what she puts into her mouth that defileth her." and jesus saw us eat together, with mud under our nails. and jesus saw iscah's red tree filigree spiraling from her blank brainwashed eyes, and he saw the north face covering her true form, and he warned the pharisees that her clean hands do not sanctify her, the poison which escapes her mouth DOES defileth her because it was born of a cardiac poison, the coat she wears is the mark of the elders; and we shall wear what we want. the pharisees, of course, urged him to buy a north face. but jesus gave me these ***** palms instead, he flung them filthy in front of the elders' faces as he commanded me to love them as i would love myself. and i'm afraid to but i'll try.
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54
Onomatopoeia Hello, my name's Rena I built the walls if the seven seas Just so I could meet ya I destroyed the cavalcade Of masses Just so we could be Together Nevermore Will I bore you with rhymes And prose And nothingness Alive awaiting Shepherds gaiting Soft Un-physicality Awaiting these old bones Post mortem
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Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
That got dark quickly
Mo accumencia l'anno nuovo, è Jennaro, ch'alleria! Cu 'a speranza e 'a fantasia, tu te pienze ca chist'anno forse è cchiù meglio 'e chill'ato... quanno è a fine t'he sbagliato. A Febbraio nce sta 'o viglione: chi se veste d'arlecchino, pulcinella o colombina... e me fanno tanta pena chesti ggente cu sti facce: ma songh'uommene o pagliacce?! Quanno vene 'o mese 'e Marzo pure 'e ggatte fanno ammore, ch'aggia fa? Me guardo a lloro? 'Mmiezo 'e grade cu 'a vicina, faccio un anema e curaggio e m'acchiappo nu passaggio. Comme è ddoce 'o mese Abbrile, tutta ll'aria è profumata! P' 'e ciardine quanno è 'a sera cu na femmena abbracciata, musso e musso, core e core... tutta smania e tutto ammore. Quant'è bello 'o mese 'e Maggio quanno schioppano sti rrose! Che prufumo int'a stu mese pe Pusiileco addiruso! Stongo 'nterra o 'mparaviso quanno tu staje 'mbraccio a mme? Quanno è Giugno la stagione vene e trase chianu chiano: s'ammatura pure 'o ggrano, s'ammatura tutte cose... Pure 'a femmena scuntrosa tu t' 'a cuoglie cu nu vaso. Quanno è Luglio 'mmiezo 'o mare, 'ncopp' 'a spiaggia, 'nterra 'a rena mamma mia, quanta sirene! Io cu ll'uocchie m' 'e magnasse; guardo a chesta, guardo a chella, ma pe mme tu si 'a cchiù bella! Quanno è Austo che calore! lo nun saccio che me piglia... Chistu sole me scumpiglia! E te guardo cu passione: volle 'o sango dint' 'e vvene e nisciuno me trattene. È chest'aria settembrina ca te mette dint' 'e vvene tanta smania 'e vulè bbene! Nu suspiro, ciente vase mille cose e 'o desiderio ca st' ammore fosse serio. Vene Uttombre, int' 'a stu mese ll'aria è fresca p' 'a campagna. Chisto è tiempo d' 'a vennegna, si t'astrigne a na cumpagna zittu zittu dint' 'a vigna, nun se lagna e lass'a fà. Chiove, nebbia, scura notte. Stu Nuvembre porta 'mpietto nu ricordo fatto a llutto: nu canisto 'e crisanteme... chistu sciore, che tristezza, mette 'ncore n'amarezza! A Natale, 'o zampugnaro, 'e biancale, 'e spare, 'e bbotte, 'o presebbio a piede 'o lietto. Quann' è 'mpunto mezanotte cu mugliereta tu miette 'o Bambino dint' 'a grotta...
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714
Calannario
Mo accumencia l'anno nuovo, è Jennaro, ch'alleria! Cu 'a speranza e 'a fantasia, tu te pienze ca chist'anno forse è cchiù meglio 'e chill'ato... quanno è a fine t'he sbagliato. A Febbraio nce sta 'o viglione: chi se veste d'arlecchino, pulcinella o colombina... e me fanno tanta pena chesti ggente cu sti facce: ma songh'uommene o pagliacce?! Quanno vene 'o mese 'e Marzo pure 'e ggatte fanno ammore, ch'aggia fa? Me guardo a lloro? 'Mmiezo 'e grade cu 'a vicina, faccio un anema e curaggio e m'acchiappo nu passaggio. Comme è ddoce 'o mese Abbrile, tutta ll'aria è profumata! P' 'e ciardine quanno è 'a sera cu na femmena abbracciata, musso e musso, core e core... tutta smania e tutto ammore. Quant'è bello 'o mese 'e Maggio quanno schioppano sti rrose! Che prufumo int'a stu mese pe Pusiileco addiruso! Stongo 'nterra o 'mparaviso quanno tu staje 'mbraccio a mme? Quanno è Giugno la stagione vene e trase chianu chiano: s'ammatura pure 'o ggrano, s'ammatura tutte cose... Pure 'a femmena scuntrosa tu t' 'a cuoglie cu nu vaso. Quanno è Luglio 'mmiezo 'o mare, 'ncopp' 'a spiaggia, 'nterra 'a rena mamma mia, quanta sirene! Io cu ll'uocchie m' 'e magnasse; guardo a chesta, guardo a chella, ma pe mme tu si 'a cchiù bella! Quanno è Austo che calore! lo nun saccio che me piglia... Chistu sole me scumpiglia! E te guardo cu passione: volle 'o sango dint' 'e vvene e nisciuno me trattene. È chest'aria settembrina ca te mette dint' 'e vvene tanta smania 'e vulè bbene! Nu suspiro, ciente vase mille cose e 'o desiderio ca st' ammore fosse serio. Vene Uttombre, int' 'a stu mese ll'aria è fresca p' 'a campagna. Chisto è tiempo d' 'a vennegna, si t'astrigne a na cumpagna zittu zittu dint' 'a vigna, nun se lagna e lass'a fà. Chiove, nebbia, scura notte. Stu Nuvembre porta 'mpietto nu ricordo fatto a llutto: nu canisto 'e crisanteme... chistu sciore, che tristezza, mette 'ncore n'amarezza! A Natale, 'o zampugnaro, 'e biancale, 'e spare, 'e bbotte, 'o presebbio a piede 'o lietto. Quann' è 'mpunto mezanotte cu mugliereta tu miette 'o Bambino dint' 'a grotta...
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72
There's a string to the left Pulling my lips to the sea
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Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 1:46 AM UTC
Rena and the infinite sadness