Long Kyle Poems
Long Kyle Poems. Below are the most popular long Kyle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Kyle poems by poem length and keyword.
Lovingly Dedicated to Billy and Kyle
I dedicate all of my living days to you, each one;
my heroic, special-needs son, my tender love and bond.
No labor defines the efforts from which your joys are spun.
My ultimate me is my all-time gift to you, my bro;
my lost, mentally off brother, now joined in my home flow.
It is your needs that lift my daily gifts to heart-respond.
In God’s omnipotence, He set challenge on overrun
as He cast both your spirits as health tested and beyond
in His earthly realm where your current lives were begun.
You are each my sincere heart-loves, two miracles that show
my peace-centered, prime blessings to me in a full, vibrant glow.
If such is sacrifice, then of sacrifice, I am truly fond.
I will nourish laughter
And kindness in this life
I'll nod my head in silence
But I'll speak when I am right
I will greet a cloudy day
With an optimistic glare
I will see a gloomy sky
But I'll know the sun is there
.
I will have ambition
And I'll remember what I'm taught
I will fight for what is mine
And work for what is not
I will work on silent projects
And the visions that I see
Others will take credit
But I'll know that it was me
I will be a shining star
And a blessing to my friends
You might laugh when I have failed
But I will smile and try again
By: Kyle Ezra Kriticos
Please, God Please, don't let them kill me
She thought she heard him shout
His room is locked, the door is blocked
Three days since he's been out
A million fears he contemplates
Too scared to rest his head
He dare not sleep or close his eyes
Those eyes of bloodshot red
He tells her what he's hearing
And she says it isn't there
The doctor said the weed did this
She says it isn't fair
Sedation, medication, stat!
To save his mind, his life
Drugs of every shape he took
To fight the one he likes
Son, please say it's over now
Your here and yet your gone
The doctor says you wont be back
I pray to God he's wrong
And in and out, and in and out
The dope smoke that he breathes
And in and out, and in and out
The hospital, the streets
I know your there inside somewhere
His mothers voice was shaking
I know that when you quit this junk
You'll get back what was taken
Somehow inside his scattered mind
Her voice said to the drug
That he again someday would be
The kid she raised and loved
And in and out and in and out
The doc, the school, the gym
And in and out, and in and out
Till he again was him
The dealers came a dozen times
A dozen times denied
Until the day his clean date was
A dozen weeks behind
My son, my son, it's been too long
Please say it's you this time
He pointed to his head and said
I've taken back what's mine
By Kyle Ezra Kriticos
Dedicated to those who "never came back" from marijuana induced pyschosis
Everybody has a locker
It's where we go, it's who we are
A number and a place
Our expertise awaits us there
And with it, our destiny
We find it or it finds us
Mohammed Ali had his eye on a locker with a championship belt inside
That was someone else's locker
And people said he didn't know his place
The critics were silenced when he wrapped his hands and put on gloves
Albert Einstein kept an odd locker
Haphazard notes. Ridiculous theories
The mathematical equivalent of a schizophrenic rant
Nobody knew this "lunatic" was rewriting science
He changed the world
There's an old locker in France that holds the sign of a warrior
Battered armor and a well used blade
It speaks of a hero
This locker held the allegiance of a nation and the respect of kings
It now holds the ashes of a fierce fighter who's footprint dented Europe forever
She was a teenage peasant named Joan of Arc
Everybody has a locker
We find it or it finds us
We can either hang our coats
Or walk on
By Kyle Ezra Kriticos
Dedicated to My Darling Son, My Kyle the Smile
There was no joy when I gave birth,
scary words kept getting worse.
When my baby boy was born
every face was quite forlorn.
He came fresh from our Creator
to be placed in an incubator.
I could not take him in my arms
or shelter him from any harms.
Doctors all had dooming words.
Negativity was all I heard,
“He may never… and he may not ….”
Oh, how I prayed this would stop.
He was two days old when I was told
I could finally lay eyes on his face.
Tubes and wires were every place
in a sterile, see through trundle,
where laid my precious bundle.
Suddenly, I felt a sign and less sad
because my son looked like my Dad,
who had amazing, sure willpower.
I couldn’t have heard God any louder,
saying, "like your Dad, your son’s a fighter."
And fight he did, my beautiful son,
my heart, my love, my special one.
For three months he grew and thrived
defeating all odds of staying alive.
Then on hospital day sixty-five,
he came home on his first ride.
The preachers say they have my God on speed dial
A ladder to the heavens once again
Operator, put me through directly
This time I just don’t wanna go through them
I fear my calls may not have been delivered
And maybe I don’t have the time to wait
Now I am concerned that I’ll be buried
And that the payphone in the church was just a plate
I surely can’t contest the pulpit masters
Indeed I have transgressed a righteous law
But if it is God’s laws that I have broken
Why is it a man who flaps his jaw
What man can say that he will end my quarrel
With the One that I offended through and through
Is there a mercy store with clerks who sell forgiveness?
Is there anything that God Himself will do?
Never will they have to pass my message
I will place my own confession in His hand
At least if I'm beyond my rights to do it
For that I will not answer to a man
Kyle Ezra Kriticos
Dedicated to Kyle, My Darling Son
Listen Kate, listen dear,
I have a new word for you to learn.
Tell your ears to clear and hear.
When you fight shoes and socks,
Throw them down with your eyes round,
It is like the night I dropped my bags,
Fell on my knees and broke my keys
Because they caught inside the lock.
You thought that I was mad,
But that is not the emotion I had
And mad is not the feeling you got
When you bunched up and threw your socks.
When things will not cooperate,
The word we should choose to use:
~~ hold steady, get ready,
The word I now state:
FRUSTRATE ~~
Once is not enough, so again, my small mate:
A big, new word to be your friend:
~~ FRUSTRATE ~~
Hey, hey, big word you now say.
Hey, hey, for you I have a clue
For your smart brain to learn and use.
Here we go, one more time is great:
~~ FRUSTRATE
FRUS sounds like hush,
TRATE rhymes with Kate,
FRUS, hush,
TRATE, Kate,
FRUS TRATE,
Hush Kate ~~
So, when you cannot shut the gate,
Reach a plate, find crayons to create,
When you get six, but wanted eight,
When these things happen to you,
Remember then your new clue:
~~ Hush Kate,
Hush Kate,
FRUS TRATE,
FRUS TRATE ~~
After that, do not cry, do not yelp,
Just find someone who can give help.
His childhood was volatile
Every morning violence was his alarm clock
And every night he fell asleep
To the lullaby of screaming voices
To the symphony of anger and broken glass
But he was a good kid
When the streets became his parents
The criminals became his brothers
He grew accustomed to a rugged lifestyle
Never safe, never steady
In places where others would quiver with fear
He smiled and laughed
He never had the money to play sports
Or a chance in hell to go to college
He never had a family outing
Or even a decent homecooked meal
And they wondered why there were drugs in his pocket
And they wondered why there was blood on his boots
In a holding cell, he could relax
In prison, he was at home
He smashed peoples faces as if he were watering flowers
He painted the floors red like his fury was artwork
But his conscience was very much alive
Because he was a good kid
Nobody taught him leadership, but he always changed rules that were unfair
Nobody taught him loyalty, but he could always be trusted
Nobody taught him to be kind, but he was thoughtful and caring
Nobody nourished his morality, but he protected the weak
If you could look through the prison orange he wore
If you could see the blood and tears that paved his road
If you could watch his flashbacks
If you could look inside his soul
And see the honest heart that beats inside his chest
You would say:
This man is innocent
Let him go
By Kyle Ezra Kriticos
The people rallied round the prince
He was disguised in beggar's clothing
He had a wicked toothy grin
With beady eyes that were all knowing
He was the heir to several kingdoms
Dirty pubs and smoking pits
He liked to feed the bottom feeders
By acting like he gave a ****
He used a drunkard as his steed
Who held the doors and threw the punches
He used a wench to cure his hangovers
With cold wet cloths and greasy lunches
He would protect his loyal subjects
But the security was flawed
Because he'd shield you from the fighting
But it was fighting that he caused
And if by chance you were still sober
When you saw his kingdom fall
You'd say manipulating drunkards
Did not make him the prince at all
By Kyle Ezra Kriticos
She came with a purpose
It was gone in a minute
She hated his fiction
But she found herself in it
It was taxing to love him
His gain was her loss
And brushing his shoulder
Had come at a cost
She cherished his words
But he lied when he talked
So she swallowed her tongue
Till the carousel stopped
And she said you don't love me
But he knew how to act
So he cradled her hand
And he took off his hat
He said you've gone crazy!
Your all that I need
And he kissed her by moonlight
Until she believed
And she vowed she would leave him
But she was decieved
By a brilliant young actor
With tricks up his sleeve
By Kyle Ezra Kriticos