Best Marsiya Poems
Dedicated to my Dad Jerry W. Niday 3/20/1952 - 6/18/2013
I am who I am because of him
He’s the reason for my son’s name
He gave me my courage & my strength
To stand tall even when standing wasn’t easy
Stand for the ones who can’t
To think and fend for myself
I’m my Daddy made over
Taught me to fight back
To never back down
How to pick myself back up
When I’ve been knocked down
Fight for what I believe
I’m my Daddy made over
He gave me my stubbornness
Gave me my pride
Gave me my temper
Taught me not to take crap
To speak my mind to no matter who
Work for what I want
I’m my Daddy made over
How to keep my emotions in check
How to handle large amounts of pain
When in trouble he always had my back
He knew how my mind worked better than anyone
I got it from him
I’m my Daddy made over
Even though he’s gone
I’ll stand and continue on
I may stumble I may fall
May even get hurt along the way
But I’ll pick myself back up
I’ll dust myself off and stand tall
I’m honored and proud to say
I’m my Daddy made over
Panda and Combine
We both are generally lazy
Until it comes time to work
Then we both eat crops
We both are losing land to live on.
We both start small then eventually grow
While one prefers the west.
While the other prefers the east.
When my heart is crushed between two rocks,
I struggle to find you in the darkness.
Build of temptation
foundation of moral
a layer of guilt.
To lead me in this world of **** twisted hearts.
Take mine out to see if you were hiding you there.
Building on temptation
flowing though lust
killing myself knowing all that I have lost.
To take my heart to free my soul because I always knew I would be buried alone.
Hollywood’s Lucille Ball, loved by many,
had an enormously profound effect on me.
She was funny and kind and goofy,
and so wonderful, she lit up my 1960’s TV.
My favorite show of hundreds of thousands
is of her and Ethel making candy.
Until Carol Burnett came along, I thought a funnier
woman could never be.
This gorgeous entertainer will probably never
know the enormous effect she has on me still today.
Many an evening I laugh until I cry at her
funny antics on my TV, I love to watch her play.
(true feelings none fiction)
Dear Godfather Ernest Pinckerly.
The day you died when I was young was horrible.
My life had changed ever since. The memory of you is like a blur all I remember is your name and being with you from that short moment.
My father came to visit. Before I knew tears and cries of your death happened. Your beautiful white home came to it's silence. My tricycle and playground I left behind and more ,to go live with my older sister I found out about in last minute.
Till this day my life haven't been the same, went through so much since after your death.
My father doesn't speak of you.but I never bother to asked for observing the situation already gave me my answer.
I write this letter to you to release these memories. To let you know I always miss you.
he was father and son
all in one
no doudt
he was sold out
it was for few dime
as they drank wine
one was unkind
that was a time
the little boy was born
the world was torn
he came in at dust
it became christmas
that
HISTORY OF JESUS
I use my hand to write poems that will convince you that my soul has been bleeding from start to end. But this may be a poem for those who think I've been writing from the heart.
What makes it okay?
What makes it okay to bow for our souls when they cling to the pregnant clouds of tears and fears?
This is just me maybe running out of ways to numb this pain by reading old books with coffee stains and nothing makes it okay.
But the coffee stains are the reason I'm uncomfortably wake at three A.M trying to cover the holes I opened with the knife but the blood wasn't mine; it never was.
What makes it okay to see temptation in a blade, knife, or a pair of scissors? It's the fact that it's not my life I'll be taking. Maybe it's only now you see that the "be careful" note I left on your doorstep wasn't just one of my dramatic moves. You better be wearing two left shoes.
What makes it okay to know we're not happier?
What makes it okay to hide the misery with a smile?
It's me; I'm willing to go the extra mile just as long as you stay behind; I just want to make sure it's safe.
What made it okay for me to call you at 3AM in the morning telling myself I've had enough of this sadness. Followed by your voice telling me "everything's going to be fine and maybe it's that time of the month" and no "it's not me; it's you." what makes it okay? I do.
I've always had that "go for it" vibe hidden inside me I'd ask you to find it but I'd be uncomfortable.
What makes it okay to cling to a cloud?
That's probably the hardest **** I've ever had to do. After closing the toothpaste cap; I mean that **** is kind of hard to remember. Like replacing the toilet paper roll; i repeat that **** is hard; literally. That's why the toilet paper needs to be replaced.
What makes it okay for me to judge you without having to hear your pain and bleed for you? I'll take the blame any day; just make sure I'm going to be okay when I come back to you every night asking for day light.
I mean girl; the sun sets; why won't you.?
the sun rises; why won't you?
clouds move; why won't you?
What makes it okay to put bravery to test? You do.
emotional
understudy
positioning
it's self
upon the
stage of
life as
prop to
be used
as a
replacement
for the
injured true
internal self
Who believe to be alive,
on this earth after death.
Who crave fame, Rial or crown,
hard to be a savior of mankind.
Decisive fatwa from best findings,
Grand Ayatollah blackclothed.
Mourning in the morning,
a lot of verses are amusing.
Dare I Say
who is coming
to dinner who
is now being
seated at the
table of plenty
in this immediate
bluster of chaotic
bliss sitting across
from me is he
supping from the
brass cup sharing
his blood blessings
kneeling before
mother Mary
while Magdelene
washes my feet
I cater to the words
of Solomon the
quiet calm of
Abraham mingling
solely with Isaac
dare I Say
for we are not
Gypsies bathed
within the
Glory of God
Written by Yolanda Nicholsen
6-19-2-24 4:23 am 1:23 poetry soup time
THE COLOR OF HATE UNLIKE ALL
THEE OTHER BRILLANT COLORS
OF THE WORLD I MEAN YOU SEE
IT IT'S STUNNING CAPTIVATING
EVEN CAUSING STRANGERS TO
GATHER TOGETHER SHARING THE
VERY SAME FAMILIAR TRAIT OF HATE
FOR MANY IT WAS TAUGHT OTHERS
FIND IT MORE EXCEPTABLE THE
COLOR OF HATE SEEMS TO CRAVE
CERTAIN AROUSALS FEEDING OFF
THE UNEXPECTED CREATURE THE
COLOR OF HATE HAS ABOSOLUTELY
NO VALUE NEVERTHELESS IT'S WORN
MOSTLY BY THE WEATHLY DEMINSIONING
THE CAUSE AND EFFECT THAT COMES
FROM DEEP WITHIN THE SELF CONSCIOUS
MIND TO ALLOW THE COLOR OF HATE TO
EXIST IN A WORLD COVERED SO BLATENLY
WITH PAIN IT CONTROLS THE PURITY OF
OUR CHARACTER WHY I'M BROWN MY
HUSBANDS WHITE OUR CHILDREN ARE
A COLORFUL RAINBOW TRIBE WE GATHER
LAUGH ENJOYING THE FREEDOMS OF JUST
LIVING LOVING UNRECOGNIZED AS A
HOLY MATRIMONY IN THE EYES OF MANY
LAWS HAVE CHANGED BUT EVERY NO
AND THEN WE ARE REMINDED CERTAIN
CLASS WOULD LYNCH US BOTH STRAIGH
AWAY LOOKING BACK OVER A TIME COUPLES
LIKE US RETREATED ACROSS STATE LINES JUST
TO EMBRACE WITHOUT THE PRYING EYES
THE TORCHES THE HOUNDS INVADING US
SMEARING OUR BLENDED HERITAGE TAINTING
LOVE WITH HATE PRYING EYES CHANT FOR
PERHAPS WE ARE THE SPECKLED SHEEP ARE
SHEPHERD IS LOVETHE COLOR OF LOVE
CAPTIVATES YOUR SPIRIT WHILE WE DANCE
ACROSS THE UNIVERSE SPREADING JOY
THIS HISSING THE CACKLING HOW DO THEY
LIVE HOW DO THEY LOVE GO WAY GO BACK
WHERE YOU CAME FROM WHAT COLOR ARE
THEY BLACK WHITE BROWN ARE THEY RED
WE ARE THE DESCENDANTS OF JEAN PAUL
BAPTISE POINTE DUSABLE THIS IS OUR HOME
WE ARE HOME WE SAFE WE ARE CHICAGO
CAHOKIA ILLINOIS
WRITTEN BY YOLANDA NICHOSEN
7-28-2024
The mountains rumble the trees
sway the sky calls my name the
sun gleams brighter while flowers
blood in the mere essence of me
the calm waters pour in leaving
soft sand between my toes when
we move the galaxy takes a bow as
stars race across the darkness
why when we move life happens
dancing on our feet the earth
spins around just to meet and
greet us beyond this wondrous
place shaping our very existence
why when we simply move in sync
Craving sensual thoughts
hidden melodies created
mastered performed through
necessity I’ve become to
explore the nature of you
the way god made you just
for me how you balance the
arch in my back the nape
of my neck man you are Mann
created by god to respond to
my beckon call reaching deep
into the mild mannerism of my
mind as I want to lead an yet
you are man I am woman my
every movement controlled
by god’s thoughts of me the
purity of my desire completely
designed for man in gods own
image I am yours take me
according to your will as I am
creation holiness within mankind
shared solely with the Holy Spirit
my heart sings the desires of man
My dad was born 1942
my mom 1943 together
they created me I am
beautifully made Joy
emphasised happy
Anniversary Honey