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Kyrielle Poem
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To you who knew me in my youth,
Who spread sweet joy and spoke with truth;
Before you passed to heaven’s skies,
I saw an angel in your eyes.
To you, the stranger that I met,
Who spoke no word of English, yet
Gave aid to me, you are God’s prize.
There was an angel in your eyes.
To those of you within this place
Whose gifts of words show love and grace,
Though I’ve not faced you, I surmise. . .
There is an angel in your eyes!
For CONTEST NO 202 any form/any theme with max of 12 linesPoetry Contest
of Brian Strand
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013
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Kyrielle Poem
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When Autumn veils my season's smile
and lingers in the air a while . . .
though Indian days be gold spun,
my summering will come undone.
Night's shadows fall more quickly now;
birds sooner too forsake their bough.
No tarrying for old friend Sun
when summering becomes undone.
Oh, warmth of Summer, leave me not.
Through Winter's frost I grow distraught.
The melancholy has begun;
my summering will come undone.
As Autumn veils my season's smile,
my summering will come undone.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013
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Kyrielle Poem
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The Festival of Lights, Chanukah has arrived
a hopeful time of praise each year revived.
The Menorah lit, each home becomes a church.
Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe.
Our sister Miriam lights the shamash taper first
a maiden fair and scholarly her prayers rehearsed
to bring together all that's beautiful, diverse.
Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe.
Eight nights we praise the L-rd for gifting us with Light
and pass around small things which bring delight.
We rejoice. In brotherhood we are immersed.
Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe.
May G-d in his greatness light all your days
May family, friends, and foes mend their ways
for all have needs, let kindness tame their thirsts
Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe.
*Bo-ruch A-toh Ado-noi E-lo-hei-nu Me-lech Ho-olom A-sher Ki-de-sho-nu Be-mitz-vo-sov Ve-tzi-vo-nu Le-had-lik Ner Shel Cha-nu-kah.
* Blessed are You, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe, who has sanctified us by His commandments, and has commanded us to kindle the lights of Chanukah.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2012
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Kyrielle Poem
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Her tired old eyes lit up bright.
A thankful tear, she could not hide.
A sweet aroma fills her nose;
because he gave a single rose.
Confined to this dreary nursing home;
having outlived family, she's alone.
Today, with a smile, her face glows;
because he gave a single rose.
He brings them often to his mother.
Today, one extra for another.
Talking, on and on she goes;
because he gave a single rose.
She asked an aid to bring a vase.
By her bed the gift was placed.
Happy and peaceful then she dozed;
because he gave a single rose.
Her final breath tonight was sweet.
Family missed, again to meet.
Her last day joyful, all heaven now knows;
because he gave a single rose.
July 17, 2014
Contest: Random acts is kindness
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi
Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2014
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Kyrielle Poem
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Abandoned in the fifties after the war
A freight elevator stuck between floors
Obsolete machinery, splintered old chairs
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere
Dead air presses down, stifling and thick
Something still dwells behind one of those bricks
Curled up in a ball, it waits for me there
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere
A musty gray vapor that whispers my name
It seeps through the wall and creeps to my brain
It sighs and it groans as my soul is laid bare
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere
It mumbles and moans and drones of ancient tombs
Of claustrophobic closets and dim, hollow rooms
I cry out for help, echoes answer my prayer
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere
The ghost of my lonely, my lost and alone
My hopeless and helpless, my can't go back home
It's looking at me now with a dull, vacant stare
In a warehouse in Newark, New Jersey somewhere
Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2012
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Kyrielle Poem
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I hear sounds of the wind hissing and rustling.
I listen on the beach to the waves cascading,
Slapping, tossing swashing the sand pebbles,
Something close to eternity within me touches.
I see some gliding fishing boats over there,
The seagulls soaring, gliding in the air here,
And Surfers trying to get rides on the waves
Something close to eternity within me touches.
I watch people running, strolling and sunning,
Setting sun promise to rise tomorrow morning
Like the human ambitions and unknown desires
Something close to eternity within me touches.
I notice the crabs scurry, somewhere hiding,
Leaving smooth bed of sand, water receding,
All sounds now receding to its minimum hiss.
Something close to eternity within me touches.
This silence rubs, softens me, gives a purpose
I find even my pains are held in this silence
Surrender my self-importance, my smallness
Something close to eternity within me touches.
===============================
Sixth Place Win in:
Contest: Breathe in the silence sponsored by Paula Swanson
Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2011
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Kyrielle Poem
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"Alas! The lessening light, the worsening my plight-
My face- a somber expression..." excerpt from
*a poem by Just That Archaic Poet
The summer of my laughter’s passed;
my happy skies grow overcast.
No meadowlark is singing here.
The winter of my tears is near.
In vale of shadows, sun hangs low.
I sojourn now where chill winds blow.
Into November’s gloom I peer.
The winter of my tears is near.
Before I meet eternity,
a snow shall come and bury me,
Its brilliance - anguish soon will mirror.
The winter of my tears is near.
The summer of my laughter’s passed.
The winter of my tears is near.
*Poem interpreted: "Equinox"
This is technically a kyrielle sonnet for the
Reinvent, Reimagine, Revamp! Poetry Contest.
Now used for the Winter contest of PD
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013
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Kyrielle Poem
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Oh, mild flower I chanced to meet,
A ruby red, yet so discreet.
She'd never seen a hue my blue.
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.
Her fragrance wafted on the breeze,
And all were drawn to her with ease.
I put down roots near her and grew.
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.
Though in her garden all seems well,
there still are things she hates to tell.
Her thorns, a shield, conceal what's true.
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.
Beneath her thorns, resentment grows.
Disturb her and her petals close!
I learned too well what could ensue. . .
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.
A casual remark was said.
Her ruby rose turned scarlet red. . .
I guiltless pled. Did I misdo?
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.
A fury she had kept so deep
had been unleashed; it made me weep.
Retaliation cut me through.
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.
A leaf of peace she offered me:
Be friends, but only partially.
But I refused and shall eschew
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010
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Kyrielle Poem
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The big headlines cause sensation,
Media’s chosen information.
Manipulative, they entomb
the big elephant in the room.
Stress is put on the suggestive
keeping tongue and the mind active.
They sweep aside with furtive broom
the big elephant in the room.
Gain is high on the agenda
grabbing votes in referenda.
They hide, on purpose, I presume
the big elephant in the room.
Many topics are selective;
they are made to look attractive.
Who dares to tickle with a plume
the big elephant in the room?
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A Kyrielle is a French form of rhyming poetry written in quatrains, each containing a repeating line at the end of each stanza. Each line within the poem consists of eight syllables. There is no limit to the amount of stanzas a Kyrielle may have, but three is considered the accepted minimum. Some popular rhyming schemes for a Kyrielle are: aabB, ccbB, ddbB, with B being the repeated line, or abaB, cbcB, dbdB.
This form is a pleasure to use because of its rhyming scheme and the strong pivotal line on which the whole poem rotates.
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Premiere Contest No. 13
Sponsor: Skat A (2016)
Contest: Poetry Writing #1
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Placed 1st
15th December 2015
Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015
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Kyrielle Poem
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We hear the prairie whispering
when meadow lark is on the wing
and pipit echoes a refrain.
Sweet solitude is his domain.
The sigh of breeze through blades of wheat;
a distant farm in summer’s heat -
Still life - but for the shifting vane.
Sweet solitude is its domain.
Midst blazing stars of purple hue,
I murmur while caressing you.
The soft wind, moaning, strokes the plain.
Sweet solitude is our domain.
We hear the prairie whispering. . .
Sweet solitude is my domain.
For Skat's Premiere Contest number 5 Poetry Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011
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Kyrielle Poem
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Bent forward on his wooden chair,
inside his shack, with not a care,
he sits where fast to sleep he fell.
The old man’s sleeping long and well.
Companions waiting to be fed
or have their master pat their head,
wait at his feet, but they can tell
the old man’s sleeping long and well.
One spotted mutt with doggie grace
extends a tongue to lick the face
of him whose form is but a shell. . .
The old man’s sleeping long and well.
Bent forward on his wooden chair,
the old man’s sleeping long and well.
A Kyrielle Sonnet for the Briton Riviere Poery Contest
Link for the painting: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Riviere_Briton_The_Long_Sleep.jpg
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013
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Kyrielle Poem
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I am a blue butterfly,
These woods I wish to occupy;
Sun warm wings- then there is flight,
Started life in these woods at night.
My perfect life is fluttering,
I make no sound or uttering;
I dream of living here a sprite,
Started life in these woods at night.
I feed on the nectar of flowers,
Swirl and dance in rain showers;
And I rest in the dappled light,
Started life in these woods at night.
I am a symbol of the soul,
Oh, a longer life is my goal;
Perfect- would be forever flight,
Started life in these woods at night.
______________________
February 15, 2016
Kyrielle/Personification
For the contest, In A Perfect World
sponsor, Catie Lindsey
Did not place in contest.
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016
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Kyrielle Poem
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(A Kyrielle Sonnet)
The tree stood trembling; red drops spilled
one Christmas day where one was killed.
Sweet daughter they would not see grow
left crimson blossoms on the snow.
What horror that their girl could be
slain senselessly beneath that tree
where every spring she loved to go
and blossoms fell, but not on snow.
The tree of which she’d grown so fond
dropped pearl white petals on a pond.
Oh, that it still were long ago
before were blossoms on the snow!
The tree stood trembling; red drops spilled
like cherry blossoms on the snow.
Andrea Dietrich
For Your "Saddest" Christmas Ever
Contest sponsored by Constance La France
~a Rambling Poet~
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010
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Kyrielle Poem
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We may not have a "White Christmas", yet joy remains the same
I find delight in viewing candles reflected on frosted panes
They remind me to be grateful for warmth and light so near
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
A scenic view of white smoke rising from the chimney tall
Dainty snow flakes falling as kids roll them into balls
They sail against blustery winds and I wonder how they dare!
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
Sweet music heralding peace, urges hearts to spread some joy!
Displayed is a wooden Nativity Scene to greet you at the door
A glittering tree with twinkling stars stands proudly at the rear!
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
Fresh pine garlands dress stair rails with large red velvet bows
The aroma of cinnamon and pine saturates, delighting one’s nose
While a cozy wood fireplace glows, inviting, daydream stares
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
The baking’s almost done; and tons of sweets are ensured
Though, there will not be any Christmas pudding this year, for sure
Mama’s been gone home a while, yet the many memories linger here
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
Whatever may happen in life, Christmas joy lives in the heart
A warm home and loving hearts have sufficed from the start
Much food, drinks and good conversation; lots of fun to share!
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
“Less formal” is my style preferred, so do relax if you please
Sit on the floor, take off those shoes; dance or just be a tease
When you feel stuffed and need a nap, if you snore, have no fear!
Welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year
~*~
Copyright © Annalise Brigham...a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2010
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Kyrielle Poem
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On a winter or fall’s eve, dark and deep,
snuggled in my bed, I’ll be fast asleep,
but online (if Sandman acts unkindly);
there is where most likely you will find me!
In spring or summer, I’ll be having fun
just sitting with my pen beneath the sun
on my patio writing poetry.
There is where most likely you will find me.
Each Friday to a movie house I go
in early afternoon to see a show.
Because I revel in good fantasy,
there is where most likely you will find me.
If I’m not at work or shopping, it’s a time
I can relax or lose myself in rhyme.
In my home with hubbie, feeling comfy,
there is where most likely you will find me!
Written March 16, 2016
For "Where Will They Find You" Poetry Contest of Marugu MO
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016
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Kyrielle Poem
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I come to you on bended knees
Knowing you will hear my pleas
By your side is where I long to be
Oh, God,be mercilful to me
Your love I know will forever last
As you free me from my past
In your debt I'll always be
Oh, God, be merciful to me
Lord, I look up with pleading eyes
Toward Heaven, beyond the skies
Your face soon I hope to see
Oh, God, be merciful to me
Now my death, I know is nigh
Take me Lord, with you on high
There, with loved ones I will be
God has been merciful to me
Copyright © Vernette Hutcherson | Year Posted 2007
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Kyrielle Poem
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Poet Destroyer...
When I first noticed your name, I wondered could you compete with me?
I wanted your heart in a frame and demolish all your poetry!
Poet Destroyer...
With a name like that you had to be good or not post.
But like a trained acrobat in a secret brotherhood you were better than most!
Poet Destroyer...
I never knew you were a female, it was kind of a shock.
I was about to raise some hell, and introduce you to a Poetic Warlock!
Poet Destroyer...
You would comment on everything I write and it made me smile.
I would think about you into the night, and that wasn't my style.
Poet Destroyer...
You finally told me your name, and shared your age.
This throne I'd let you reclaim, if you would share the stage!
Poet Destroyer...
Naturally I could not directly comment on your poetry.
I ask that of my dearest friend Audrey.
Poet Destroyer...
I hope you agree, a great friendship can be found between you and me;
And quite possibly we can collaborate on some steamy poetry!
Poet Destroyer...
So tell me sweetie, are you down for a night on the town with me?
Into the night, high in the neon light will read: Jimmy and Sidney!!!
*Wrote for a cool, crazy, fun amazing poet...
Copyright © Jimmy Anderson | Year Posted 2010
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Kyrielle Poem
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Are you who you are
or just a wanna be
Are you who you are
unable to fly free
Are you who you are
living just in today
Are you who you are
or merely who you say
Are you who you are
who lets inner talents live
Are you who you are
with so much love to give
Are you who you are
for He is who He is
I am,who I am
With Him,you surely can
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2009
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Kyrielle Poem
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Each Day We've a New Page to Write
(Soup does not allow ' in title line above)
Endless is childhood’s sweet story.
Its climax seems far from our sight.
As we keep adding in glory,
each day we’ve a new page to write.
Some days we fail; some we do not.
Regardless of fortune or plight,
sun rises! For what we have sought,
each day we’ve a new page to write.
How wonderful like falling snow
that lays down its white through the night,
each morning is fresh with new glow.
Each day we’ve a new page to write.
Though stories may seem to get old,
life never is worthless or trite.
Transform what you can into gold!
Each day we’ve a new page to write.
12/15/16 for the Quote Response Contest of Nayda Ivette Negron
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016
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Kyrielle Poem
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"Christmas Spirit"
(Christmas Day in Italian Culture)
as a snowy blanket of white caresses in Winter's glow
and frosty icicles kiss windowpanes in glazy show
a silent atmosphere embraces a starlit sight
while magnificent choir of Angels sing Hosanna O! Holy Night.
Church bells chime in twilight mist to welcome Christmas day
wishing holiday greetings while children glide on sleigh
glorious festive mood captivates inspired light
as heavenly Angelic voices praise Hosanna O! Holy Night.
decorations adorn to honor the precious Infant King
candlelight illuminates the Manger Scene as carolers sweetly sing
the scent of fragrant pine cones creates an aura to ignite
hymns of worship as heralding Angels proclaim Hosanna O! Holy Night.
soon family gathers to partake of traditional Christmas meal
"Feast of the Seven Fishes"prelude to tree trimming feel
the fireplace mantle glows where stockings smile so bright
and hark the herald Angel hosts greet Hosanna O! Holy Night.
Joseph is the patriarch who shelters newborn babe
a gift of God from Heaven sent to Earth to save
a glorious time for celebration in precious moment of delight
majestic music from Angels chanting Hosanna O! Holy Night.
sheer warmth of having a personal relationship with the Lord
a unique experience enlightening as He is adored
sharing love with everyone, the human spirit takes flight
melting their voices with holy Angels singing Hosanna O! Holy Night.
*For Cyndi's Season of Lights, Delights & Enlightenment Contest.
*Nov. 14, 2012.
in the Italian culture we begin our Christmas celebration ...
Christmas Eve - Feast of Seven Fishes Dinner for good health & prosperity
Tree trimming ceremony with music and singing toasting wine
Midnight Mass at Basilica in Rome or at Church in N.J.
Dessert Party after Mass with eggnog
Christmas Day exchanging gifts and visiting children and seniors at hospitals
Pasta dinner with salads and baked stuff shells with meatballs
Desserts of creme puffs laced with rum, cannolis pastry filled with chocolate
Wine tasting from orchards of Italy imported with olive tray
Candlelight ceremony where all hold a lit candle making a wish for a
Happy New Year.
Copyright © Linda-Marie SweetHeart | Year Posted 2012
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Kyrielle Poem
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He lost his job, now drives a rig.
The pros are small; the cons are big.
A sleeper cab is his abode
on tedious and lonesome road.
In Old West days, a steed he’d mount;
now yellow lines he cannot count.
A steady stream, long have they flowed
on tedious and lonesome road.
A ribbon flat, it sometimes winds,
descends or climbs until he finds
it’s all one constant episode
on tedious and lonesome road.
By some he’s loathed along the path.
For taking space, he’s shown their wrath.
Sparse traffic lessens not his load
on tedious and lonesome road.
He drives and while he drives, he yearns
for life’s return; his stomach churns.
He knows his hope but can erode
on tedious and lonesome road.
For the Solitude Contest of scott thirtyseven
(Some truck drivers have a very hard and lonely life and it's even worse
when they work for companies that couldn't care less about their welfare)
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014
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Kyrielle Poem
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The skies sing sweet songs
The soil spread into the seas
The seas swing slowly, swiftly
…Praising the Prince of peace
The flowers fall flat and fly
The sparrows sing solemn solos
The sea animals swim in splendor
…Praising the prince of peace
The sun and stars… speaks
The air and atmosphere in alliance
Wheat and water worships at will
...Praising the prince of peace
Tall and tender trees tremble
Winds and wings… wonder
Woods and waves… whisper
…Praising the prince of peace
Beings with blood and breathe
Spirits with soul and sights
Learn of this little, lovely lilies
…praising the prince of peace
Copyright © Adeleke Adeite | Year Posted 2010
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Kyrielle Poem
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I hear sounds of the wind hissing and rustling.
I listen on the beach to the waves cascading,
Slapping, tossing swashing the sand pebbles,
Something close to eternity within me touches.
I see some gliding fishing boats over there,
The seagulls soaring, gliding in the air here,
And Surfers trying to get rides on the waves
Something close to eternity within me touches.
I watch people running, strolling and sunning,
Setting sun promise to rise tomorrow morning
Like the human ambitions and unknown desires
Something close to eternity within me touches.
I notice the crabs scurry, somewhere hiding,
Leaving smooth bed of sand, water receding,
All sounds now receding to its minimum hiss.
Something close to eternity within me touches.
This silence rubs, softens me, gives a purpose
I find even my pains are held in this silence
Surrender my self-importance, my smallness
Something close to eternity within me touches.
+++
December 2, 2014
Form: Kyrielle
Seventh Place win
Contest: One of your best by Gautami Phookan
Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta | Year Posted 2014
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Kyrielle Poem
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A Baby only cares about being loved, warm and fed
It does not worry about the colour of your skin
nor if you are good or bad as long as you show love
It does not matter if you live in a masion or hovel.
Religion too matters not a whit to a small tot
A Baby only cares about being loved, warm and fed.
It does not care what part of the world you live
Nor if you live in a town or out in the country.
Poor or rich, hansome or plain it does not care
You may be a manual worker, a banker or a king,
A Baby only cares about being loved, warm and fed.
Holding out its arms with chuckles of laughter.
All pride, prejudice and greed holds no sway
in its little infant heart that is born to love.
It gives a smile that would melt the toughest heart
A Baby only cares about being loved, warm and fed.
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2014
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Kyrielle Poem
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Across our childhood’s street we trod
on carpet lawn and holy sod.
We walked along where some had prayed.
Where once we played, he now is laid.
The dead’s abodes we visited.
But times we ran and sometimes hid.
Such escapades by fancy made!
Where once we played, he now is laid.
Our bikes we’d ride on many a track
that wound around and further back.
A decade near this place I stayed.
Where once we played, he now is laid.
He left. We followed, each our way.
until the fateful sorry day
we all returned and farewells bade.
Where once we played, he now is laid.
Another decade passed, then two.
Cruel time -its passing how I rue.
My place for his I would not trade.
Where once we played, he now is laid.
*Dedicated to my brother Dale, who died much too young
and was buried across the street from our old family house
in a place called the Greenwood Cemetery, a very large one
where kids rode bikes and played. Well, at least WE did!
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014
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