Best Eleanor Poems
I’m one of the lonely,
the oh so lonely people
missing your subtle smile.
You were a pretty blue eyed beauty,
with unkept hair and go go boot style.
Eleanor, Eleanor Rigby,
you lived down on the corner.
I’d see you stand inside your door,
staring blankly at the floor.
They told me, yes they told me,
you didn’t care any more.
The nightmare you lived,
It’s so sad it seems.
So you left your face in the jar by the bed,
because it couldn’t conceal your screams.
I hear them sing songs about you,
you still live in their dreams.
Those lonely people,
those sad lonely people.
They crave a glimpse of you.
So they make up their stories,
but none of them are true.
They keep saying they know,
but we know they never knew.
Each one trying to grab onto,
a small piece of you.
Do you remember,
Old Father McKenzie?
I listened to the words of the sermon
that the others couldn’t hear.
I wished you were here,
Oh how I wished you were here.
As I drank of his wine
I swallowed a tear,
thinking you were behind me
as I stared at the mirror.
Don’t worry Eleanor Rigby,
there’s nothing left to fear.
I know the man that you loved
was taken from you.
No reason, no reason that’s true
For you there was not to be,
a life long happy “I do”
“Do you take this man, Eleanor Rigby?”
Down the aisle you walked alone.
Why oh why was he taken from you?
After you were buried,
alone I went to your grave.
Always afraid, always afraid.
Why didn’t I ever talk to you?
I’ve never been one who is brave,
I guess that’s why,
I’m one of the lonely people.
So I saved you Eleanor Rigby
by throwing you from the Steeple!
I know, I know it’s good to be free,
so for a while I’ll keep you company.
It’s ok Eleanor Rigby,
there’s no need,
no need at all to thank me.
Together with him,
you are meant to be.
For Jerry T Curtis’s: Who Was Eleanor Rigby? Contest
Categories:
eleanor, angst, funeral,
Form:
Free verse
You may have known her as fable or fiction
But she was as real as deep blue oceans
And glorious dawns of rising golden sun;
Not quite blessed with grace of humanity
Hurting miserably in wounded dark alleys--
One among many--misdeeds of destiny
Trapped within inescapable pathos of society.
Like summer storms that churn hazy winds
And sound of glum-thunder ignites lightening,
Formidable was trauma of her throbbing beats
Haunting heart sorrowful, wistful, and lonely
Each time she looked up and dared to breathe.
Silently she stood there at gate of misery
Solitary like a tombstone no one ever visits;
A mother, a sister, a daughter, a homemaker
In plain sight on some corners of the world
Where echoes of quietude often got ignored.
Hurting miserably in wounded dark alleys,
Solitary like a tombstone no one ever visits,
Silently she stood there at gate of misery;
Face of the faceless --she was Eleanor Rigby.
August 13, 2019
Eleanor Rigby Who Was She Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Jerry T Curtis
Categories:
eleanor, anxiety, destiny, loneliness, lonely,
Form:
Verse
Eleanor Rigby, picks up the rice
In the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face
That she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
Eleanor Rigby
Lyrics by Paul McCartney of Beatle’s fame
A SAD DUCK
her palm pale, a shallow nest for one —
breadcrumbs.
so called old maid, the librarian-dreams —
bluebirds and fancy bows, not in hers.
a square frame-mask; crows look in the window.
the crone-paste fills in the tracks, nothing more.
an echo in her reflection — eternity squared.
she clings to the lonely door —
she’s left in a basket next to the hermitage.
his lips never moved; removed.
cue the sandstorm:
the lyrics in delirium, the callus-rice in the air.
she promised the voice on the phone, she would come,
and here she was —
alone.
an orphan, by ordinance of a puppy basket.
the yelp for something to live for.
fed and wrapped, kissed twice,
on the forehead —
once when she arrived. . .
again when she left.
the whipped cream in the jar —
commercial-bling,
makes her complexion even
— a sad duck.
she perks up
as she hears her name —
“the lonely dame...”
the mania frenzies around her.
all the same,
no one sees her face,
terrified blinks.
Categories:
eleanor, loneliness,
Form:
Free verse
Who is or was Eleanor Rigby ?
Jerry T Curtis
Poetry Contest
27 August 2019
Eleanor Rigby
Lost her 1st Born Son and Husband
To World War 2
She then dedicated her life to the Church
Overcome by grief and loss
She became a Nun
To seek solace and relief
She searched for her answers in God
And placed her faith in religion
Lives in a dream
Masking a face of bereavement
Like all the other lonely people
Picking up rice pretending to smile
in a face she keeps inside a
message in an old milk bottle
that reminds her of Maternal weaning
Destined to die alone
Until Father Lennon McCartney eventually reads her obituary
At her funeral in Strawberry Field's
where no 1 will come
Back to the dirt from whence she came
To rejoin her family again
Rejoicing
War is Over
God's Vestal Angel
Eleanor is Saved
In song we remember
Eleanor Liver Beatle
You'll Never Walk Alone
Categories:
eleanor, music,
Form:
Free verse
Former first lady Eleanor Roosevelt
With women's rights mostly dealt
But her husband Franklin
Let "Missy" Lehand spank him
Categories:
eleanor, humor,
Form:
Clerihew
A cat called Eleanor
ponders from a pillow
in a bay window,
the lives of the willow and songbird.
The willow is a short-lived tree
which spends a lifetime
weeping about it
while shorter-lived songbirds
roost in the droopy boughs
cheerfully celebrating another day.
The easy climb could
make for a tasty snack.
06/08/15
Categories:
eleanor, bird, cat, life, time,
Form:
Free verse
I'll never forget how
she cornered me
outside the lecture hall
with her downcast eyes,
looking so respectful.
I thought women were
supposed to look
just like that.
I spent evenings in her company.
She made me supper of beans and greens.
Ellen was studying nutrition.
In my mind it wasn't a high profession.
She was a practical person
with concrete attitudes.
But there was a twist to her,
a sadness that called for
my special talents.
Sitting at her table
became a staple of my life.
It was only when I developed
a tenderness toward her that things changed.
She stood at the cabinet drawer
looking for needle and thread.
I came up behind her,
suddenly driven by a gush
of something physiological.
I touched her hand.
She withdrew alarmingly.
Lesbianism was illegal in those days.
Ellen's partner was a butch named Maxine.
She called her Max.
I would be an appearence.
Not my charm
but my availability
made her wait for me.
Categories:
eleanor, change, character, memory, relationship,
Form:
Free verse
She is one of many, dear Eleanor secluded
in her secular sepulcher,
One of the lonely plenty, a regular within the
anonymous atoms nebular…
Dreamed of rice, at her wedding
with her sorrows spreading,
She paid the price, with tears shedding
and one pillow bedding…
Of her loneliness, the nights in waiting
never participating,
Perhaps erroneous, her heart pulsating
and will abating…
All her lonely people, avoiding the sun
hurting no one,
Brings them to the steeple, with prayers none
trying to outrun...
Father McKenzie, could not help Eleanor
a social predator,
In his frenzy, using sermons as to metaphor
a false presenter.
Rest in peace Eleanor Rigby...
Aug.07.2019
Eleanor Rigby Who was she
Sponsored by: Jerry T Curtis
Background music by
Jake Shimabukuro
Eleanor Rigby
(HiSessions.com Acoustic Live!)
With a female virtual voice
N/A for contest
Categories:
eleanor, eulogy, loneliness, woman,
Form:
Rhyme
MY ELEANOR
Darling, yet another day is past gone,
While we rest from the battle; losing not just one.
As the wind of pain blows round our camp,
Affixing to many hearts its bleeding stamp,
I sit, on the warm sand, gazing at the moonlight,
With thoughts glued just on you, my sunlight;
The only object that holds my sanity
In this jungle of blown absurdity.
I gladly call to mind our parting act,
Drenched in showers of the passionate art.
I long, unbridled, for your charming form –
A comfy shelter from this storm.
Till we meet again, after this dreadful tour,
This is from me to you, my lovely Eleanor.
(c) Ikenna.C.Igwe, 2012
Categories:
eleanor, love,
Form:
Blank verse
Oh little Eleanor just turned one, two, three
She has curls that flow down her back and eyes bright as can be
My little Eleanor plays outside all day
Lives in a tiny house, but says that it's okay
Sweet little Eleanor, full of love and light
With only a tiny blanket to keep her warm at night
My darling Eleanor, life isn't what it seems
She's got a big ol' heart and a head that's full of dreams
Keep workin' Eleanor and maybe there's a way
Keep workin' Eleanor, you could make it big one day
Oh little Eleanor just turned eighteen
Still as happy as she was when she was one, two, three
Oh precious Eleanor, your life has just begun
There's time for work and time for fun
My beloved Eleanor just bought her first guitar
She wants to be a singer and become a worldwide star
My darling Eleanor, life isn't what it seems
She's got a big ol' heart and a head that's full of dreams
Keep workin' Eleanor and maybe there's a way
Keep workin' Eleanor, you could make it big one day
Oh little Eleanor just turned twenty-three
Not as happy as she was when she was one, two, three
My loving Eleanor plays in bars all night
Her eyes are big and blue, but they're just not as bright
My cherished Eleanor writes her songs all day
She clasps her hands together and prays she'll be okay
My darling Eleanor, life isn't what it seems
She's got a big ol' heart and a head that's full of dreams
Keep workin' Eleanor and maybe there's a way
Keep workin' Eleanor, you could make it big one day
Oh little Eleanor just turned thirty-three
She's happier than she was when she was one, two, three
My little Eleanor plays sold out shows
She's got millions of dollars to blow
Sweet little Eleanor made her momma proud
Bought her a big ol' house that touches the clouds
My darling Eleanor, life is what it seems
She's got a big ol' heart and she's livin' her dreams
You worked hard, Eleanor and there was a way
You worked hard, Eleanor, I told you you'd make it big one day
Categories:
eleanor, career, dream, growth, inspirational,
Form:
Lyric
The Holocaust was a reminder to us…
besides being a most horrific crime…
that dark forces of evil and intolerance
have been flowing since the dawn of time.
If you want a sampling of how cruel and inhuman
we, who call ourselves human, can be…
I’ll be frank…watch Ken Burns’s ‘The U. S.
and the Holocaust’ and read Anne’s diary.
An innocent young child who, because of her religion,
faced unimaginable enmity and strife…
who never had the chance to grow old…
to have a long and happy life.
She was but one of millions of Jewish people
who, at the hands of the Nazis, died…
a crime so horrific it didn’t have a word to describe it…
it does not…genocide.
But as I watched Ken Burns ‘Holocaust’ and read Anne’s words…thinking no crimes have ever been as gruesome as these…
I began to wonder if there were other children in the world
who have written similar diaries.
Looking back on the history of humankind…
I imagine there are a few…
and as difficult as it would be to hear their words…
I think we need to read them too.
Other groups of humans
whose annihilation was in other human’s plans…
If these children had written diaries…
would their words be similar to Anne’s?
From Native Americans, Blacks, people of color, women
who have endured so much torture and pain…
to LGBTQ+ people all over the world
and most recently…the people of Ukraine.
There are times when the stream of evil begins to overflow its banks
and no matter how much we pray…
its waters rush in determined to eliminate
anyone who gets in their way.
When groups of people are signaled out…belittled…
made to feel different and small….
until more diaries our discovered…
Anne’s words must speak for them all.
Anne never got to finish her diary…
she died just before the end of the war….
but I imagine she wouldn’t mind if it was finished
with words from Eleanor…
Eleanor…who throughout it all…remained steadfast…
resolute and strong….
She said there can be no compromise at any point
with things that we know are wrong.
Perhaps one way to keep the stream of evil contained…
to keep it from overflowing its shore…
would be to watch Ken’s series
read through the pages of Anne’s diary…
and heed the words of Eleanor.
Categories:
eleanor, holocaust,
Form:
Rhyme
Her Mam did for the rich Wool toffs,
days chocka block with chores.
Her fella was a plazzy gent—
A few jars opened doors.
A proper jarg johnny he used;
he thought hi’self real cool.
In the shade of the Whalley Abbey,
the banks of Otterspool.
She was sacked off by the Big House;
for bloating like a toad.
The sconner did like a runner;
she was proper devoed.
Eleanor Rigby was nineteen
when the Great War broke out.
She worked at t’ alehouse in The Lanes;
crashed with this divvy lout.
This RC priest offered her a job
as the scullery maid.
Her threads were mostly ant wacky;
skint from the tuppence paid.
He made her attend Sunday church
and to learn the new hymn.
She had managed to scrounge a pair
of boss new trabs from him.
The scran for tea was abar sound—
she shared with a few birds.
They rolled own ciggies from backy
and shared one another’s thirds.
The declaration of the war,
surely did her head in.
A baltic day in thirty-nine,
at t’ ozzy, she didn’t win.
At St Peter’s Church in Woolton,
Eleanor was laid t’ rest;
one of the many lonely people …
A scouser—one o’ the best.
Categories:
eleanor, music,
Form:
Ballad
Eleanor Rigby and Father McKenzie
Oh, so lonely -- Where do such people come from
They come from all walks of life, from the priesthood
on down to the hangers-on at village churches
And where do they all belong? -- In a desiccated church
where Father McKenzie preaches sermons that no one hears
and Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice thrown at others' weddings,
surely lamenting her own lonely, dreamlike existence...
They belong together, but Church doctrine, frustratingly, keeps them apart
this lonely woman with the happy face, concealing the ache deep inside
and the devoted priest, so determined to look ministerial, to deliver a sermon
for no audience, that no one will hear, that will save no one...
So many lonely people in society today, like Eleanor Rigby
people who come from nowhere, whose contributions go unrecognized
and who return to nowhere, buried along with their names --
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust...
August 08,
Eleanor Rigby Who was she Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Jerry T. Curtis
Categories:
eleanor, christian, deep, devotion, loneliness,
Form:
Blank verse
Eleanor cleans the church
Wednesdays, Sundays
And after weddings on other days
She sweeps up the rice
Remembering her own wedding
So many years ago
She is lonely
Her husband was killed
In the Vietnam war
And her children
Never call anymore
Father McKenzie reads from
A tattered yellow sermon
For the few old people
Who straggle in
With their sins
He is lonely
And has little to do
He prays to God
To take him home
Now they tell him
Eleanor was found dead in a pew
Eleanor Rigby Who was she Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jerry T. Curtis
8/12/19
Categories:
eleanor, death, life,
Form:
Free verse
Eleanor
Will never die
The day she does I will cry
Memories memories a lot
Maybe she should just be a thought
Ice racing, jumping her
All were fun
Now its time to take her out back
And shoot her with a gun
Had great times but she is done
Old Eleanor, you were fun.
Old Eleanor, you were the one
Categories:
eleanor, funny
Form: