Best Myra Poems
Like fresh water from springs below a lake
There is much love to give, but who will take?
shuffling ‘neath neon lights
or lurking in alleyways
Myra roams urban streets
Kay’s large house seems so empty
Conveniences money provides
but it’s affection she wishes to share
judgmental parents disowned her
for handouts Myra pleads
fearing the fate of her unborn
so young was Kay’s husband
struck down before his first gray hair
she sobbed when told her womb would be barren
lashed by winter’s icy whip
Myra mingles with the homeless
stopping at shelters to eat for two
until at a soup kitchen one day
a compassionate volunteer named Kay
offers to share her ample home
Like fresh water from springs below a lake
There is overflowing love to give, but who will take?
*January 31, 2019
For Chantelle’s Midnight Valentine Contest
Categories:
myra, hope, love, poverty,
Form:
Free verse
In the dark dark year of 63
Britain's most gruesome murder spree
A conscious betrayal of innocence
With acts of barbarous decadence
Left five young children, in a hole, on the moor
And no one knows if there are more
For silence followed with lips shut tight
Across fifty years, day and night
The most evil couple that spurned from man
A couple with a killing plan
On a promise of puppies and sweets
He was the outright antagonist
His callous blonde lover willing to assist
While silently waiting holding his breath
With her female trust they were led to their death
Have some apples, I have kittens to stroke
And a murderous intention
To help rape and to choke
On a promise of puppies and sweets
All of these children totally perplexed
Forced to engage in unnatural sex
Then pose for nude pictures before being raped
With all of this heinous so casually taped
Then bludgeoned to death with insatiable force
The boot of a car and onto the moor
A cold wet grave for the body of a child
On a hostile moor, windswept and wild
On a promise of puppies and sweets
Tortured and bludgeoned with axe and with scorn
No pretty flowers nor graveyard for mourn
Outrageously thrown in a hole on the moor,
Where they lay undiscovered for a score year or more
Come little one, come follow me
Come see the puppies, come now and see
I have sweeties and apples and playthings for you
And a callous intention, to end your life, too
As the killers closed their eyes to the gore
On a promise of puppies and sweets
This is the tale of Britain's worst crime
This could not happen, well not at this time
But happen it did and a nation left reeled
As five innocent children lay dead in a field
Continuous silence continues today
Where children are buried, they would not say
As they danced on a grave and took photographs
With Myra so happy, so happy she laughed
Ian looked so proud as he stared at the floor
With a freshly dug patch of a huge hostile moor
That had no divining line, where the land and sky meets
On a promise of puppies and sweets
Both of these monsters spent a long time in a cell
Until the devil welcomed them, to join him in hell
An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth
Deservingly so, that is the truth
Categories:
myra, children, death,
Form:
Ballad
Myra my beautiful and sexy wife
You're a very special part of my life
And you mean all of the world to me
To my heart you have the master key
And I want to world to see
7 long years we been together that's how much we love each other so
And our love just continues to grow
I hope together we'll have alot more
I never dream of having a love like this before
Just want to say that I'll always love you
And in my heart this is true.
Categories:
myra, faith, happiness, inspirational, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Moses and his sweet Molly Mouse
have a puzzling dilemma.
They have used all the names they know
from Marvalee to Maryemma.
They have followed all mouse name rules.
Each must begin with letter em.
After their hundreds of babies,
they have no more new names for them.
They can’t use Micky or Minnie,
for they know the unwritten rule.
Using gods or goddesses names
will make any mouse look a fool.
When Sally Squirrel comes to call,
the new mouse family to view,
they speak of their giant problem
and ask Sally, “What shall we do?”.
Sally swiftly offers to help,
but the fine ess names that she knows,
are rejected by the mouse pair,
“We surely can’t use one of those.”
Opie Oppossum arrives to ogle
and bring names with an oh or pee.
Moses objecting once again,
“They must start with an em, you see.”
Then Molly whispers to Moses.
“I will question Miss Mynah Bird.
Mynah is sure to remember
every em word she’s ever heard.”
Miss Mynah is very happy
to respond to their fervent plea.
She has a name for every child
they will live long enough to see.
There‘s Myra and Moira and Meg,
for the girl mice now in the nest..
Maurie and Mervin and Maleg,
are boy names passing the test.
The mouse pastor baptizes them
and as he pronounces each name,
Moses and Molly glow with pride.
Miss Mynah has saved them from shame.
Personification Moses and Molly Mouse, Sally Squirrel, Opie Oppossum, Mouse pastor
Miss Mynah Bird
Categories:
myra, family, fantasy, children,
Form:
Personification
Me my kids and my wife
All a very special part of my life
Roger who is 12 years old
I hope he achieve his every goal
Alisha who is 15 years old precious and sweet
Larry as Fry talks and raps to every girl that he meet
Shannon is having our granddaughter is very smart in school
Connie who is 19 years old will soon be graduating
Then our entire family will be celebrating
Kisha who's 23 the oldest
Thinks she's the boldest
Myra my lovely wife is 42
Myself James to my family I love all of you
Together we enjoy fishing,bowling going out to eat
All of us keep our hair done or cut and dress very neat
Categories:
myra, family, inspirational, life, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Children do ask us if Santa Claus exists
Most of us do reply, “yes, Certainly,dear”
Folklore have turned Santa into a toy
Who mans a sleigh led by eight reindeers.
How dreary our world would be if no Santa.
Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance
Can pull aside that curtain, view and
Picture the superb beauty and glory behind.
Is it real? and the answer is, it is real.
Nothing else is real and abiding in the world.
A real person, the Bishop of Myra in Turkey
After the death,canonized as patron saint of kids
Santa is love, magic, hope and happiness.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Date: 12-25-13
Dr. Ram Mehta
Third Place win
Contest: Christmas joy by P.D
Categories:
myra, religious,
Form:
Free verse
I am sitting in the sun now, letting the rays love me.
And heal me.
It’s a beautiful spring day, and I have called
Everyone I know, and a wrong number
To tell them to get outside.
I have a friendship brigade that a
Five star general would have been excited about.
They are all women except Joe, and they have only
One thing in common – me.
I’ve formed a posse of women, and we meet
In a variety of restaurants to laugh and tell stories.
Sometimes we meet in my yard around a campfire,
And we call ourselves ‘The Wild Women’.
Elaine has one story that always brings the house
Down, and so does Myra. I make them both tell these
Famous stories, and we all laugh like polite loons who have
Not heard these great stories sixteen times prior.
About a block away, my nearest neighbor, Vi, sometimes laughs
Aloud after we all laugh. Vi has dementia, and she’ 82, and
Used to be gobs of fun, not so much now. I am always pleased
When I hear Vi laugh. It means we brought joy in some way
To her day.
We are so powerful and mighty, my pack. And we all pretend I am
Not a lone wolf as I graciously allow them to howl with me, all of us knowing; I am the lone wolf.
August 18, 2018 Entered: Premiere Contest Sponsor: Brian Strand
Categories:
myra, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse
A little girl said to her mother one day
"Santa's not real, that's what my friends say"
Her tears welled up and she started to cry
And said" Is he real or is it a lie ?".
Her mom was shocked that she had been put to the test
And decided telling the truth would be for the best
She thought for a moment then said carefully
"Santa's spirit is real, as real as can be".
"He lived in Myra by the Aegean sea
It used to be Greece but now is Turkey
He left this life a long time ago
But not his spirit, that continues to grow".
"His name was Bishop Nicholas and wore robes of red
Was wealthy, helped the poor and made sure they were fed
He did things in secret whilst they slept in their bed
And soon people got to know about the bishop in red".
"Something else about him that people don't know
Was he came from a hot country and it didn't snow
But the story grew bigger over the years
Snow, elves and sleigh added along with reindeers".
"All over the world little girls and boys
Wake up Christmas day to lots of new toys
And everyone says that Santa has been
Presents are left but he's never seen".
"Parents leave presents under the tree
But Santa guides them with his legacy
They do it for you out of kindness and love
Under the watchful eye of Santa above".
"Santa's spirit is alive, it's certainly not dead
The world's full of people like the bishop in red
Doing good for mankind, animals as well
When you next see your friends, this story do tell".
The little girl cheered up, kissed her mom and said
"I too want to be like the bishop in red"
"When I grow up, like Santa I'll be
Helping the poor and the needy".
Just like Nicholas who performed those good deeds
Helping the less fortunate, seeing to their needs
So when you venture out help someone if you can
Be it an animal a child, woman or man.
Merry Christmas.
Written 13th December 2017
Writing Challenge - December, 2019 - I want Christmas Poems - Poetry Contest.
Sponsored By Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode.
Categories:
myra, christmas,
Form:
Rhyme
Blooms Have Come to an End
There is a flower with blooms that are continual
That are also biennial or may be perennial
Steadily desiring to return year after year
Until when winter approaches and is near.
When winter has arrived and is finally here
All of the still blooms soon start to disappear
Until they have all dried and become brown
And appears to be worn like a nightgown.
Early spring they attempt to return again
And as the more that spring tries to sets in
Buds again will become a bountiful bloom
For a favorite vase you find in every room.
Each cycle in the year will come and go
Truly so lovely when watching flowers grow
Before dying blooms have reached an end
To beautiful wife bouquet do want to send.
Poems and Plays of Robert Browning
Edited by Myra Reynolds, Ph.D. University
of Chicago was used for thoughts and ideas.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
River Sea Plantation
Bolivia, NC
Categories:
myra, encouraging,
Form:
Couplet
*JUST A REMINDER: Some of these words are made up to go along with the story line. For
these purposes, the lyrics must sound like they are being said in a ritual.
[CHORUS]
Nona, Kemina, Su So Sar Set.
Nona, Kemina, Nasu, Parquet.
Pyra Que Nesu
Adonde es Jesu?
Pyra Habita, Nasu Parqut
[MATIRAH]
When the green grass grows
And the flowers bloom
I hear the fleminade growing to my humble tune
Its bright and its warm
All life is being born
I feel the breath of life upon my soul
[ALL]
Myra, Petita, Kanku Le Sut
Sinya, Perita, Paronde de Cumbet
All life has grown
Our love for life is shown.
Myra, Petita, Kanku Le Sut.
Categories:
myra, song-lyriclife, life,
Form:
Lyric
I am a purple headed chicken with glass beads. I like to roam the wooded glades. I often wear a pair of shades. It shields my precious amethyst eyes from the glare of the sun. Such heat corrodes such orifices. But producing a grin as I pass the goblin who gazes ay my feathers in an admiring stare. Then I make my way up the tree and use the vines to swing over to my favourite picnic spot by the lake. Mrs squirrel has made an amazing spread of acorn nectar which I peck up at great speed. Lovely wild mushrooms mixed with bracken. A treat as I sit in my woodland dream. But oh no what is that? That terrible noise? And why is it so very dark? I feel squashed. My throat is dry. Where are my woods? Oh no I am here and not in my sanctuary. I must claw at the sides of this thing. Far to restrictive. Cant even flap. And isnt that Myra, and Hettie I can hear clucking. If I get out then I will get them out too. Wait for those passing stomping boots and that noise must be on as I go. Means the end of a life but if I can rescue some of my friends it will be fantastic and plucky too. Plucking up the courage she began to claw and finally broke through. Squashing through the tiny bars she found her friends and instructed them how to release. Then one by one they flew up and up and up into the night air. Using the rest of their power gained by finding three pieces of corn on the floor of that place. The ceiling had a sky light which was barely wide enough to squeeze a potato but they managed to kick it whilst beating their wings. Finally having released themselves they soared across to the woods in the distance. Where they were greeted by a squirrel in a patterned apron and chefs hat. Wow Mrs squirrel is real. Not just in my dream. Mrs squirrel smiled and greeted her and her friends. Now you will have safety here amongst the trees. Later you can visit the lake. Then the blanket was dutifully laid and the birds sat down to enjoy their feast. Feasting feathers find fun. Then they spent the future swinging from the vines, visiting the lake for regular picnics, singing with the woodland choir, and working the soil with their claws and beaks. To earn a crumb is to earn a crust. And crusts are neither crumbles nor couplets crouching. Cluck cluck cluck. Ornithomania
Categories:
myra, bird,
Form:
Well-mannered and respectful holding his black hat,
the young man asks for his daughter's hand after
her caught him kissing her in his favorite chair,
but her mother tries to explain to her husband that
the innocent kiss he gave her was a sign of deep affection...
is the well-dressed teen lying to avoid conflict and tension?
Guilt troubles Brendon and Myra...they performed that forbidden act!
Why does her mother insist on the boy's good intentions: that he feels
ashamed for the horrible thing done...he couldn't control his feelings!
Should he leave or wait for the paternal approval and become adult
in admitting that touching a virgin is worse that being stung by bees?
Who's more embarrassed by such a confrontation he or the girl stripped of worth?
They will come to a decision for their well-being and parental concern never forlorn;
and already her mom imagines herself playing with her grandchildren on the lawn,
but her dad is not convinced and wants proof of the youngster's parents wealth;
will he inherit some of their riches and treat his beautiful daughter with respect?
Categories:
myra, character, romance,
Form:
Rhyme
Truth be told
I no longer want deaths and wars
Come part the horizon, Jesus
Christ come now to receive us
If there were a Santa I want only just to know his true origin
What I want for Christmas, love and freedom
Twas just a mist, history insist
The Legend of St. Nicholas
Give me thoughts of prayers
To pray for my fellow humans
If there were a Santa I want only just to know his true origin
What I want for Christmas, is for Jesus to come down
Lo O’ fourth-century bishop
Monk named St. Nicholas
Born sometime around 280 A.D.
In Patara, near Myra in modern-day Turkey
If there were a Santa I want only just to know his true origin
What I want for Christmas is for Saint Nicholas to pray with me
Admired for his piety and kindness,
Of many legends called also Father Christmas
You can meet Santa Claus cross the magical Arctic Circle
In Rovaniemi in Lapland, Finland official
You see if there be a Santa, all I want from him
Is to pray for me, for Christ to grant me longevity of life…
Now what do you want for Christmas in this life
12/7/19
What You Want For Christmas Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Gregory Paul
Categories:
myra, analogy, appreciation, assonance, blessing,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
In response to an Internet company and its plans to market T shirts featuring an inhumane human being.
Come gather round people, come gather round more
Come buy your T shirt, with its tale of the moor
Come buy your T shirt and wear it with pride
A. T shirt, full of history, when five children died
Come wear your Myra, then come round my home
I will show you the horrors, that will make you atone
Come wear your Myra, then come to our towney
We will show you how we feel about Lesley Ann Downey
Come wear your Myra, come make our hearts bleed
We will show you how we feel, about poor Pauline Reade
Come show your T shirt, if you like your roulette
We will show you our feelings, on poor Keith Bennett
Come pose in your Myra, while we are at six's and sevens
We will show you our feelings, on poor Edward Evans
Come show your Myra and stand by our side
We will show you our thoughts, on poor John Kilbride
Come show us your Myra, come knock on our door
We will take you for a ride up on Saddleworth moor
Categories:
myra, anger,
Form:
Rhyme
Butterflies as big as bats
with phosphorescent wings
My ears can’t speak
My mouth can’t see
My eyes begin to scream
Bugs are climbing up the walls
Spiders come out of my skin
My mattress melts into
tomato sauce
in which I start to swim
The ceiling spins in a circle
I’m holding my eyeballs in my hands
Pointing them at things
I want to see
but cannot understand
The TV walks across the room
There’s Myra Gulch
upon her broom
Jimi Hendrix rides a star
smashing bugs
with his guitar
Snakes appear upon my head
Look in the mirror
and I am dead
I point my eyeballs at the plate
all the mushrooms
I must have ate
Senses now in overload
Waiting for the crash to start
Sensing things I must leave untold
I swallow an eye and can see my heart
Falling
Bawling
Insides are crawling
Spinning
Sinning
The mushrooms are winning
Aching
Faking
Never reawaking
Crying
Dying
Nothing is complying
I wake up not knowing
How many hours may have passed
I’ll have to try those mushrooms again
That trip was such a gas
Categories:
myra, adventure, imagination,
Form:
Free verse