"rita" poems
mr moonlight
mr nowhere
maxwell edison
mr jones
dr robert
sgt pepper
mr kite, bb king
edgar allen poe
walter raleigh
mat busby
the hendersons
and maggie mae
mr mustard
captain marvel
rita lucy jojo
vera chuck and dave
mother nature
polethene pam
mr heath doris day
and buffalo bill
loretta martin
**** sadie
hey jude eggman
my michelle
rigby and pilchard
or elenor and semolina
took father mckenzie
too see a dancing horse
henry his name was
rocky raccoon was there
prudence rode elephant
to the i me mine waltz
---
There gonna crucify me
the way things go
christ it aint easy
the next day dont know
you know the walrus was paul man
johns bird can sing
george was a genie
ringo wore a ring
but paul is dead now
george stole his soul
john is alive though
ringos in a hole
her royal highness the tax man
commit the perfect crime
she asked for more
with a belly full of wine
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 12:13 PM UTC
Rita was a battery hen
And every day was bleak;
For her, life's stage was just a cage,
And meagre corn her only wage,
But things all changed for Rita when
She learned that she could speak.
She overheard the farmer say
*"That cage is getting weak,
That's not just dust, but flakes of rust
And if the hens gave one quick ******
They'd all be free to run away
And we'd be up the creek!"*
She waited till the dark of night,
Then pushed into the gaps;
The bars were old, the bars were cold,
It seemed as though the bars would hold,
But Rita shoved with all her might
And felt the cage collapse!
She ran right out the farmyard
In the moonlight, dim and pale;
No more is known of where she's flown,
I hope she found a lovely home,
Perhaps she'll send a greeting card
To tell of her next tale!
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 5:08 AM UTC
Theres an original Aussie lingo
That out there one can hear~
Most of all when you are in the country
And places like that you love so dear~
RIPPA RITA , An aussie bush expression of rejoice~
When something really goes so well
And usually not by choice~
FAIR DINKUM means simply for real
Are you fair dinkum mate~
STRUTH another real Aussie expression
A bush word for something that you hate~
Just a few words of real Aussie lingo
You might hear now and again~
SEND HER DOWN HUGHY they'll cry
When they reall do need rain~
STONE THE CROWS you'll hear them yell
When something happens by surprise~
Often in the country
When they can't believe their eyes~
HOWZ ZAT a bloke will often call out
when he manages to do something better than right~
And very indeed proud of himself
Without trying to skite~
RIGHTIO dad will call out to mum
When she hollows don't forget to get the bread~
TOO FLAMEN RIGHT he'll say back to her
When she says well ... did ja get it ted~
YA GREAT GALLOOT is what they'll call you
When you do something really wrong~
So much original Aussie lingo
They should put it all within a song~
SHIELA'S are of course suingle women
Who often are as well called BIRDS~
All this fantastic Aussie terminology
How I miss all these words~
Ocker's are usually blokes in shorts and thongs
They call thongs Japanese riding boots~
CODJA'S are older blokes
Sometimes they call them COOT'S~
COCKIES are blokes that own properties
STRIKEN A BLOW is a term for work~
BLUDGERS are those that don't like do do it
And being lazy is to of course SHIRK~
All that age old aussie lingo
I miss it so I do~
Can't wait to say HOWZ YA GOEN MATE
And G DAY to a mate or two~
It's all got a sound of it's own
One gets used to it in life~
Like the LITTLE WOMEN and THE BETTER HALF
Is what they call a wife a wife~
( Was'nt game to use spell check lol )
https://youtu.be/PT331BRkkP0
Terrence Michael Sutton
Copyright 2018
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 8:57 PM UTC
i.
Sto mystikó kípo sas,
Where thy purple rose shalt be;
Where thy flower bed wilt hath many roses, where thy breathe
Shalt Never cease.
ii.
Sto mystikó kípo sas,
Where hue's and tints hath life;
Thy husband wilt be with thee,
Guiding thee into God's light.
iii.
Sto mystikó kípo sas,
Where petals never fall,
Where the angels sing, their voices ring, bouncing to and fro the pearly gates; painting melodies in the spirit form, colliding back to temple walls.
iv.
Sto mystikó kípo sas,
With a palace for a queen;
The queen is thou, window's thou canst look out; where glass is clear, as there's no fear, inside thy garden
Of majestic scenes.
v.
Sto mystikó kípo sas,
Tha sas xanadó;
That's to say, I'll seest thee again soon one day, in thy secret garden,
Where thy love wilt always grow.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Rita Mae nagley dedicated( golden grams) rip grams, I'll meet you at your new heavenly mansion in your secret garden.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 9:03 AM UTC
From: Richard Riddle
using: "nicy stephanie" or "rita derrick"
THE INFO BELOW STILL APPLIES---DO NOT RESPOND!!
ALERT !!
You may already be aware of a message currently showing up in the HP message boxes from a female(supposedly) identifying herself only as "Miss Stephanie". She states that she saw/read your profile and is interested you, and has something important to tell you. She asks that you reply with YOUR email, then gives an email address supposedly belonging to her. No other information is given.
DO NOT REPLY!!
She will post two, or more poems, probably in an effort to gain trust and establish credibility. She may even mention the on-going situation with Boko Haram, or some other conflict. THIS IS A SCAM!! Once your email falls into the wrong hands, there are untold numbers of consequences.DELETE it immediately, then BLOCK IT.
Please pass this on!
Thanks,
Richard Riddle
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
Broken Layers..................................
Williamsji Maveli
CREATION:
On the first petals of Creation,
sensual honey drops down,
the destiny, the deed, and the creator,
filling the syntax of human body,
broken layers of meanings
scattered rhythms and tunes
SITUATION:
Situations beat the drums
Environment becomes "Tsunami"
"KATHRINA" blows the wind..
"RITA" shakes her *******
Whales swallow the waves,
Fire erupts on the Volcano's
Hiroshima and Nagasaki*
blossoms again
DESTRUCTION:
Baghdad is burning to ashes,
Legs of "September 11th"
is getting twisted
Someone is planting a bomb
in his own mother's womb
War weapons of suicide's
pierced the concrete jungles
Let not even a baby to be born again,
thirsting for milk,
bursting for food.....
By: Williamsji Maveli
Email:[email protected]
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 1:53 AM UTC
Dear Prudence, Julia, Michelle, Mr. Moonlight, Eleanor Rigby, Dizzy Miss Lizzy, Lady Madonna, Lovely Rita, Rocky Racoon, Lucille, **** Sadie, Clarabella, Her Majesty, Nowhere Man, Penny Lane, Carol, Long Tall Sally, Maggie Mae, Johnny B. Goode, Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds, Moonlight Boy, Martha My Dear,
You Like Me Too Much. It’s All Too Much. I’m So Tired. The Night Before Yesterday Memphis, Tennessee, I Saw Her Standing There. Polythene Pam.
Not A Second Time She Said She Said “Hey Bulldog. I Want To Hold Your Hand. Why Don’t We Do It In The Road. Here, There and Everywhere. Something.”
I Want To Tell You I Should Have Known Better. “Wait. Slow Down. I Just Don’t Understand. Tell Me Why.”
“Because I’m Down. I’m Happy Just To Dance With You. Hold Me Tight”
“I’ll Be On My Way”
“Please Please Me”
“Get Back. Help!”
And I Love Her
All My Loving,
Mean Mr. Mustard
P.S I Love You
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 12:58 AM UTC
Rita heard the doorbell go
A-DANG-A-DONG-A-DING!
She put aside her favorite book
And ran outside to take a look,
But at the door, well wouldn't you know
She didn't find a thing!
She went inside and sat down
And then it went again,
A-DING-A-DONG-A-DONG-A-DANG!
The doorbell chimed, the door bell rang,
She ran outside and looked around
But once again in vain!
Rita felt so very cross,
"I've had enough!" she said!
Instead of rushing back inside
She looked for somewhere she could hide
And found a patch of comfy moss
And made herself a bed!
It wasn't long when Rita heard
A-DING-A-DANG-A-DONG!
And there upon a fluttered wing,
A hummingbird began to sing,
Such beauty in his trilling words
That Rita joined the song!
When the chimes came to an end,
The hummingbird looked glum;
He gave the bell a mighty clang,
The door bell rang, and then he sang!
And Rita laughed at her new friend,
She'd never had such fun!
Smiling still, she went indoors
To read the next few lines;
Short-lived was her tranquility,
And solitude was not to be!
She giggled as he played once more
Those humming door bell chimes!
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 8:18 AM UTC
Broken Layers..................................
Williamsji Maveli
CREATION:
On the first petals of Creation,
sensual honey drops down,
the destiny, the deed, and the creator,
filling the syntax of human body,
broken layers of meanings
scattered rhythms and tunes
SITUATION:
Situations beat the drums
Environment becomes "Tsunami"
"KATHRINA" blows the wind..
"RITA" shakes her *******
Whales swallow the waves,
Fire erupts on the Volcano's
Hiroshima and Nagasaki*
blossoms again
DESTRUCTION:
Baghdad is burning to ashes,
Legs of "September 11th"
is getting twisted
Someone is planting a bomb
in his own mother's womb
War weapons of suicide's
pierced the concrete jungles
Let not even a baby to be born again,
thirsting for milk,
bursting for food.....
By: Williamsji Maveli
Email:[email protected]
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 2:39 AM UTC
Have you seen my granny?
She shoots like Johnny Wayne,
Smokes cigarettes like Garbo,
Sings like Kelly in the rain.
She's doubtless at the movies
Watching Audrey zip 'round Rome,
And wishing she were young enough
To run away from home.
My nana laughs like Rita,
Plays chess like Steve McQueen,
She smoulders like her heroes do
Up on that silver screen.
Have you seen my granny?
She loves Bogart and Bacall,
And in her dreams forever
She is blonde and six-foot tall.
Nov 3, 2019
Nov 3, 2019 at 5:01 PM UTC
Imagine young Rita to be
too small to walk Mingus properly
And instead of a yuletime stroll
a one-dog sled team over yonder hill rolls
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 10:58 AM UTC
*Atop the emerald earth,
a bush of crimson ablaze.
Blush of sunrise.
Bruised rouge of sunset.
Kaleidescope colors of
complex designs complete.
Ahh..but for the lingering questions.
Questions that continue with the
fresh of each day...
Rita...We call to Rita!
Our ethereal selves.
She calls, We come
Into her night of dreams
Woven within her dreams of day.
We come in Our
Saintly stance.
Rita hears.
Knows Our hearts.
And so to her,
We present ourselves.
Rita feels
the plush nuance
of Our ancient wisdom.
A melding of truths
Rita knows
She is a conduit
through which the
breath of message
and knowledge exchange.
'Sine timore'
Without timidity or fear.
Imbued deep within
her Irish blood.
Gift passed from the elders.
Yet, this Lass of yore,
stands away from the podium.
Has chosen not to grandstand,
or grasp boldness too tightly.
Goodness of power is embraced
laced with enchantment.
Able to transcend The Veil,
She walks Her path.
Our winsome
Saint of Impossible Causes.*
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 7:50 PM UTC
Rita bustled busily,
To decorate each room
With jack-o'-lanterns, giggling ghouls,
And grinning ghosts with dribbled drools,
And moonlight glimmered spookily
On ghastly painted tombs;
She went to fetch her costume
And hoped it wouldn't itch;
She grabbed a strange and pointed hat,
An odd shaped broom, a stuffed black cat,
And in the mirror of her room
She turned into a witch!
A sudden tap-tap-tapping
Came from her green front door;
She opened it excitedly,
A-wondering who it might be
And then she started clapping
And dancing on the floor!
Her good friend Fox was outside,
He wore a long black cape;
With plastic fangs, he danced about,
But when he sang his fangs fell out!
They laughed so hard, then went inside
And had a slice of cake!
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC
We can hear: "caw caw! Ping ping!"
As we return to the bust of The Wiygg;
He who knowest thou deliver Burning Sword
To Sanjeet and Romesh Singh,
Those who beat their blood-soaked wings.
Once that particular door has been shut,
And twilight enfolds from within,
Lang, Rita, Jamal
And Hatesh P. Benjamin,
Where will you call home
Once the end of the night begins?
Oct 31, 2023
Oct 31, 2023 at 9:18 AM UTC
As a Sports Illustrated model it's no secret that she has the ability to turn heads.
So as Hannah Ferguson marked day 30 of LOVE magazine's video advent she did so in smouldering fashion to ensure her debut was not easily forgotten.
Showing off her moves to the sound of Drake's Hotline Bling, the 23-year-old owned the shoot as she cavorted in a slashed corset dress.
Whipping her hair back and forth, Ferguson appeared to forego underwear beneath the daring form fitted number.
Becoming the definition of sensual, a pair of sheer stockings and Giuseppe Zanotti black patent leather lace-up stilettos completed the cover girl's look.
With her hair worn in its natural state, the beautiful blonde's striking blue eyes are lined with kohl liner while her pout is coated in a shade of **** lipstick.
Preened to perfection, the two minute clip is formatted in slow motion as the Texan beauty, who resides in the Big Apple, seductively gyrated on the floor.
In the film Hannah also displays her comical side as she flashed her pearly white while attempting to do the 'Stanky Leg' dance.
Ferguson's debut sees her join the likes of Kendall Jenner, Cara Delevingne, Rita Ora and Adriana Lima who all featured in the 2015 edition of the online countdown to the new year.
The LOVE magazine advent calendar, now in its fifth year, has seen an influx of 8.2 million views since launching on December 1.
read more:http://www.marieaustralia.com
www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 2:20 AM UTC
Give a little bit of my Shangri La
back to me.
Lets recall the 99p Scotch best at JD Weatherspoons,
revisiting Bradford by National Express
because we saw "Bob Sue and Rita too" on Channel 4
and on a whim had to have
B&B; down Manning Lane.
Let's see tea shops show civic pride
serving a strong Bergamont.
No queue jumping,
spitting or cussing in the streets.
Lets not be afraid to care,
and go back to the early 1990s
on the cusp of the Premiership
to see Notts County verses Luton Town.
Their six pointer
with an overturned milk float to presage the desperation
and long before the aerobic internet entertained us.
Funded Public libraries
venturing openings on Sunday's
and thank Steg from
Scorpion records at High Wycombe,
grateful for all those post restantes.
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
Qué estará haciendo esta hora
mi andina y dulce Rita de junco y capulí;
ahora que me asfixia Bizancio, y que dormita
la sangre, como flojo cognac, dentro de mí.
Dónde estarán sus manos que en actitud contrita
planchaban en las tardes blancuras por venir;
ahora, en esta lluvia que me quita
las ganas de vivir.
Qué será de su falda de franela; de sus
afanes; de su andar;
de su sabor a cañas de mayo del lugar.
Ha de estarse a la puerta mirando algún celaje,
y al fin dirá temblando: «Qué frío hay... Jesús!»
y llorará en las tejas un pájaro salvaje.
1.4k
Chased mercilessly
over well- worn tar
palpable loss pushes
a sable brush
dunked in dread
a furious deluge
of fear
oozes out
blackens every inch
of familiar landscape
what if’s
eat through
the still static blue horizon
making a meal
of unborn dreams
slaked only by
hastily grabbed
history
coupled with
ragged spirits
that desperately
haul hope north
safe haven
on strange soil
still dark hours
away
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 9:57 PM UTC
“Hey Mark. It’s Hope. Um, hey. So I know that I’ve left you quite a lot of voicemails in the past few days. I just couldn’t stop worrying about where you were and…and you know how I get. So, finally, I called Rita. And she told me where you were. And now I get it! I understand why you aren’t calling me back. It’s not because you don’t like me anymore or that you’ve grown bored of me, no! It’s not that at all. It’s because…well, it’s because you’re dead. And I know that you’ll never get this and I’m talking into an empty void right now. I can almost hear you laughing at me, saying that I’m just a tree falling in a forest with no one around to hear. But that’s comforting, in a weird way. Especially because of the previous voicemails I left, before I knew where you were. I mean, Jesus, those were so embarrassing just thinking about them makes me want to die! But I’m not dead. You are. Um. Well, I just called because I wanted you to know that you…you were different. You are different. Just because you’ve died doesn’t mean you’re suddenly not sweet or intelligent or courageous or loving. Now that you’re gone my world is a blur full of colors and light but lacking all definition. I went to your work yesterday. All of your coworkers were swarming around me and I just stared and couldn’t recognize anyone. Not even Rita. I had to ask her name, I was so humiliated. And she…she did something that you used to do to comfort me. I doubt she even knew she was doing it. She must’ve picked it up from you or something. Um. She started to massage my hands, you know, like you would do when I would get too scared to breathe. And I closed my eyes. I swear, I swear that in that moment it was you. I know it was you. You were there calming me down, helping me breathe. And I finally could. For the first time in years, I could. But then she asked how I was feeling and I had to open my eyes. I said I didn’t know. I don’t know. I do know that I miss you. I think it’s funny that when I talk about you to others, and I talk about missing you, I can say it in the present tense but when I say that I love you, it sounds wrong. Like they expect me to say that I loved you, as if my devotion stopped the second your heart did. I still love you. I did and I do and I will. I just don’t know if I can ever-" Message deleted. Press 1 to record again.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 7:59 PM UTC
a quantum of soul and cherry ***** in the backseat of a ford-
we were going to eighty-six the world
the sinews of our unattainable hands
that yanked themselves free
and went to ruining our best Bellamy salutes
and went to forming ladders and tarmacs in the vapor of the night
and went to everything
it's wasn't the shaking or the vim of the stockyards on the days they hung up ornaments
it wasn't those who followed a cheekier Moira and gawked at Rita of Cascia as she passed by
it was the way escape felt with you as it's stern
it's the way escape felt with you full of sanguinity
the kind that your mother gave you in the belly of California
the kind that I ripped away for ***** and giggles
Jan 30, 2011
Jan 30, 2011 at 1:15 AM UTC
a home of unrest survives in my old town where
madness seeps through jaundice colored halls,
lapping life from rotted brains.
grim photos of grandchildren
deform walls,
but old folks don’t remember.
they wear nametags.
who am i? residents wail
for mommy, their ’86 kitten,
a bus pass from chicago or
the wrong god.
her eyes are sallow.
tunnel vision, they say.
cloudy hues without purpose.
bags under gramma’s lids hang
like dead gangsters
and bifocals settle around her neck,
in case she gains a pang
of clarity.
Lovely Rita,
once a fat cook is now slender as a fang.
she forgets to eat.
my guttural granny, she stutters
incoherent, mostly.
but today, she babbles
an omen.
watch o u t
thing s are
g o nn a
h h h appen
she retreats,
deteriorating.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 4:03 PM UTC
Eve and Steve
love drinking sherry
getting merry so dose Mary
really scary, she has eyes for all the guys.
Jane told Wayne that Jim´s a pain
and then ran off with his mate Shane.
Gary is the one for Carrie,
the one she really wants to marry
and Doris who´s a florist really fancies Boris
whose older brother Norris
drives a nineteen sixties Morris.
Now, Pat who lives in her own flat
has eyes for Jim because he´s slim
she really has a thing for him,
and her friend Sandie´s sister Mandy
is going out with a bloke called Randy,
whose friend is Wayne....Sandie´s latest flame.
Scary Mary longs for John who´s cousin
Peter is dating Rita, she´s Steve´s youngest
sister, his older sister Pam is going to marry Sam
whose brother Terry loves drinking sherry............
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 5:52 PM UTC
i see how the singer lets go of forever
and the drummer lets the tears flow
a wish and a promise to keep them both honest
but that was so long ago
we never knew them at all but we knew them
they always put on a show
they both got remarried in each other’s weddings
i can picture the words that they spoke
this song means it’s over but he’ll always love her
and she’ll always be rita’s ghost
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 4:42 AM UTC
From: Richard Riddle
using: "nicy stephanie" or "rita derrick"(this time its solicitation msgs)
THE INFO BELOW STILL APPLIES---DO NOT RESPOND!!
ALERT !!
You may already be aware of a message currently showing up in the HP message boxes from a female(supposedly) identifying herself only as "Miss Stephanie". She states that she saw/read your profile and is interested you, and has something important to tell you. She asks that you reply with YOUR email, then gives an email address supposedly belonging to her. No other information is given.
DO NOT REPLY!!
She will post two, or more poems, probably in an effort to gain trust and establish credibility. She may even mention the on-going situation with Boko Haram, or some other conflict. THIS IS A SCAM!! Once your email falls into the wrong hands, there are untold numbers of consequences.DELETE it immediately, then BLOCK IT.
Please pass this on!
Thanks,
Richard Riddle
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC