Long Nikita Poems
Long Nikita Poems. Below are the most popular long Nikita by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nikita poems by poem length and keyword.
It might be difficult for those growing up in the 50s and 60s to look back and capture the many issues that captured them
Was it camilot and the Kennedy brothers in the White House? Was it the headline news of the Cuban missle crisis?
Was it Elvis, rock and roll, or the Beatles and Beatniks? Was it the civil rights movement and the Vietnam war?
Some went off to war; some fought on college campuses Some just made love or packed their bags and fled to canada
There was that other war declared on poverty but never won Was it about my graduating high school and starting my life?
Was it the televised words of Nikita Khruschev, "We will bury you"? What about the hippies, yippies, flower children and the Jesus people?
Perhaps our greatest terror was "the Cold War" between USA and USSR There were a myriad of things going on that frightened my generation
It seems the whole world was in a mad rush for change at the same time
Maybe we all were under the influence of MAD(Mutually Assured Destruction).
In spite of it all, the beats from Nashville and Detroit kept people dancing But then, there were those like myself who never learned to dance
030220 “Kim Rodrigues’ DWM Contest”
I know I'm no Bernie Taupin
so, DON'T GO BREAKING MY HEART
I know my lyrics are simple
every poet needs a place to start
I may not be Bernie Taupin
I didn't write CROCODILE ROCK
but, I know that I too can write the words
I just need my Elton John
I may not be Bernie Taupin
he wrote GOODBYE YELLOW BRICK ROAD
my mind works in easier concepts
no "hunting the horny back toad".
I may not be Bernie Taupin
creator of BENNIE AND THE JETS
but I can write a love song
of a life lived with no regrets
I may not be Bernie Taupin
his hits are way more than a few
I may not have an answer to his TINY DANCER
but I've danced a mad tango or two
I may not be Bernie Taupin,
I didn't write YOUR SONG
It turned out to be, a song for everybody
and not just for THE ONE
I may not be Bernie Taupin,
who wrote CANDLE IN THE WIND,
he struck gold the second time for Diana
the first time was for Marilyn
I may not be Bernie Taupin
by now that's not really news,
but I too can write a sad, sad song
so, I GUESS THAT'S WHY THEY CALL IT THE BLUES
I may not be Bernie Taupin
and the ROCKET MAN is out of touch
but my sad songs also have merit
because SAD SONGS SAY SO MUCH
I may not be Bernie Taupin,
but, I'M STILL STANDING here with NIKITA
Bernie can make a hit out of anything
even going with DANIEL, to eat pizza
I may not be Bernie Taupin
but I write footloose and fancy free
maybe it's not like PHILADELPHIA FREEDOM
but hey! DON'T LET THE SUN GO DOWN ON ME
Bernie and Elton would both say
that it's been no SACRIFICE
and, SOMEONE SAVED MY LIFE TONIGHT
were lyrics that just felt right
It's been an amazing partnership
almost 50 years and still going strong
Bernie Taupin writes awesome lyrics
but the music is all Elton John.
So, I may not be Bernie Taupin
but I can write lyrics to a song, but
a song needs music and a melody
guess, I'll keep waiting for my Elton John.
John Derek Hamilton
December 07,2016
Eight inches of snow saw no hat on his head
an act of derring-do, my father said,
He ascended the steps
the eyes of the world upon him
An orator attacking the lectern
~ Camelot, out to shatter Babylon
The glare of the sun no match
for the glint in his eye
Brisk winds no challenge
to the stylish coif he held high.
He measured the moment
took a deep breath
Out came an aria
~ nary a shibboleth
Tall and straight, he stood
erect as a soldier
firing words like bullets
targeting the mind's heart, to pull it
jabbing the air with his fist or his finger
pausing ever so briefly
~ he let the message linger
He moved us, he touched us,
lifted a nation's heart
without sham or deceit
~ only truth from his lips
did ever depart
He proposed the Peace Corps
to inspire the young--
For those older and wiser
he combined graciousness
with toughness
in a diplomatic
sharp-edged tongue
To Nikita Krushchev, the Soviet,
baring his claws,
Our leader's barbed-wire message
surely gave pause:
"Let us remember...
...sincerity is always subject to proof
Let us never negotiate out of fear.
But let us never fear to negotiate."
And to all 180 million Americans watching
in person or on the tube
~ He issued this challenge
destiny ringing, resonant rendezvous:
"Ask not what your country can do for you
ask what you can do for your country."
It's now 55 years later
and America's not seen
a President like Kennedy
~ to inspire us to dream
Cathode Rays in the Darkness
Thelma Todd is on the Late Late Show,
Brought to the us by Kent cigarettes, which refines and
Refreshes with the exclusive Micronite Filter.
Her still tragic life in the steaming suburbs knows no past.
It is a sucking monster to which there are no survivors.
The holy TV in this house prays with its face on the floor,
Screaming its way through backyards under the parallel clotheslines,
Illuminating with cathode rays, the fragile test patterns of existence.
Lloyd Thaxton is on at 4 o’clock before the news.
Dressed in a Van Huesen shirt with skinny black tie,
He sashayes under those hanging dangling long plays,
Like a finger person jittering across the sea with magic shoes,
Igniting the twisting dance floor with blue-eyed soul.
He is the coolest of the phony-star dance mavens,
Lip syncing with panache and moving lips through album slits.
He ghost-dances now Slauson style to the beat of the dancing dead.
Baxter Ward chews through the nightly harbingers at 6,
Brought to us by Marx Toys; Do you have them all?
He sits behind a square jet black table with head pointed south;
The Great Garloo warns us to beware the Industrial Military Complex,
The insidious Cold War chatterings of Nikita and Jimmy Dodd;
But Baxter Ward assures us he will be there when the Iron Curtain falls;
When Thelma Todd mysteriously dies again in her Lincoln Convertible,
When Lloyd Thaxton lip syncs one last time Unchained Melody in Vietnamese.
In bewilderment I woke up in Jerusalem
They were talking about Jesus, and they were spooked.
He was way too wise for a twelve-year old, and
asking questions no one wanted to answer.
They were trying to figure out how to keep him quiet.
When I next awoke, a black cat was wearing my pajamas
He was a beatnik cat from the 60’s,
playing an oversized fiddle.
One of those big ones
that has to sit its butt on the floor.
Not being musical, I do not know the name of it.
It is not a drum or a cymbal, I know for sure.
A catalyst was this cat, in the movement toward peace.
He was the one who pushed for Dr. Martin Luther King’s
Nobel Peace Prize.
I was bewildered when he meowed me this surprising information.
I had only half been listening, playing chess with Nikita at the time.
Yes, Kruschchev. How many other Nikitas do I know?
I am only twelve. It is not like my folks take me on trips.
I have not been out of the state yet.
We talked about the space program,
and made a little side bet about it.
“America will pretend they have won the space race,”
he told me “But they lie.”
This made me mad, being an American.
I was a hopeless devotee of his, however,
For unlike my grandparents,
Kruschchev was kind, and let me win sometimes.
Labyrinthia P. Babineaux …………… The White Witch of the Lower 9th Ward
Papa Babineaux …………………………… The Father, an honest apothecary
Algebra Babineaux ……………………… The even-tempered Mother
Bumblebee Babineaux ………………… The precocious younger Sister
Gnat Babineaux …………………………… The curious little Brother
Cabernet Babineaux …………………… The distant Cousin
Ulysses “Zully” Kowolski ……………… The world-weary Sailorman
Nikita Something ………………………… The learned Creole Seer
Mitchell Hollywood ………………………. The adulterous Inn Keeper
Tom Sickley …………………………………… The disingenuous Feather Merchant
Fr. Marcus Paternoster ……………...... The lecherous Clergyman
Steve Merkin ………………………………… The unscrupulous Accountant
Vince Fettish ………………………………… The nefarious Fantasy Man
Xerxes the Great …………………………… The Emperor of Persia and Media
Dante Foolhardy …………………………... The Stultifying Court Jester
John Travailleur, Esq. …………………… Just another John
Plus … townspeople, pirates, Indians, street musicians and beggars, Cajuns, swamp rats, women, young ladies, and girls.
I had a hammock underneath a shade tree.
I spent many relaxing moments there.
It was one of my favorite places to be.
I would fall asleep, which for me was rare.
Nice and wide, big enough for two.
Made of canvas, wide green and white stripes.
I would lay and stare at the sky, so clear and blue.
It was chosen out of many different types.
It was part of a beautiful backyard.
Set in a pretty wooded scene.
Deer at the fence, appearing to stand guard.
It was a place peaceful and serene.
I would listen to nature's many sounds.
Making its own music, its own song.
I could hear it as it seemed to be all around.
In my perfect backyard world it it did belong.
I shared my hammock with only one other.
Watching hours pass,her eyes so blue and dusky.
She was my best friend, we loved one another
I miss her, my Nikita, my sweet beautiful husky.
It was a special place that sadly is gone today.
Circumstances told me that I had to move on.
And even though it was long ago and far away.
It lives in my heart, a memory, a sweet bygone
There is a small dog park in the town that I live.
It was the dream of one very special lady
A dog park that would have many benefits to give.
A place where dogs could play, where it was shady.
Her ad in the paper caught the eye of another.
Who thought that it was a wonderful thing to do.
So they got together, agreed with each other
And decided to make the dream come true.
There was a day set for the town's big event.
A grand opening to celebrate the new park.
The whole town turned out, it was a day well spent
It was such a success that the event lasted until it turned dark.
The sign over the entrance, announced the name
It was the Natasha and Nikita Dog Park
The sign also had the pictures of the same.
Two beautiful dogs, much loved, left their mark.
A special occasion for all to be part of.
It was an extra special one for me
For the dogs on the sign, were mine to love.
I look at the sign proudly, my beautiful dogs are there for all to see.
She’s that lady, who fills the house with love,
She that lady, whose presence is felt,
The mother of my beloved Nikita
Nothing will ever bring us apart and I will always be at her side,
If worst comes to worst I would fight for her even if it was the last day on earth
The reason I stand tall and walk with her majestically to my pals,
She’s like a gold coin that never fades,
Always giving to others what they need,
To those who have no home, no fire to warm them in the cold dark days,
Her beauty comes from all dimensions like a visible shining pillar,
A pillar she stands tall for those she loves and cares for,
She Speaks her mind what’s good and what’s bad, the first critic when work is done poorly
She fights for love and always gets what she wants,
She’s like a big dolphin that saves those that drawn in their own misery in this ocean of life.
I just hope Nikita turns out to be like her.
I see that your life has had many interruptions
Due to misguided assumptions, faulty guidance,
And a lack of fundamental education from the start.
You were thoroughly indoctrinated in orthodox mythology
And kept sheltered from the cold harshness of the truth.
You are particularly religious in most everything you do.
You make a dedicated service of ritual and routine,
As a sacramental passage from yesterday to tomorrow.
You are religious to a fault, but not at all spiritual.
You have learned to survive without vain superstitions.
How many angels, saints, and unicorn saviors
Could dance on the back of a crackerjacks box
While you faithfully watched Davey and Goliath
Before you went to mass every Sunday morning?
When you’ve found the answer to that, go tell it on the mountain.