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Best Poems Written by Marko Kyoto

Below are the all-time best Marko Kyoto poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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As I stand here alone in the cold wet snow; watching it come down all around its quiet a show.
My fingers are frosty and my face is a cold shade of blue; my toes feel like ice; yet this quiet , peaceful place to me is like paradise; from what I have seen once before in a dream from when I was a younger teen .

White and puffy flakes feel like feathers in my hand; the heavier snow engulfs my dark clothes in a sheet of white creating a blank canvas of the pure white; as clear as a image of a dove in flight.
Snow is snowing down all round and their not a sound to be had; apart from the echoing wind that seems too surround like a storm of sound which blows my clothes and hair around.

I look up at the sky but there’s no detail in sight just a sky of white like a dime light. I see trees that once gleamed green back in the summer and spring now nothing more than bare trunk’s so empty from the leaves it once used too bare; from the branches that now seem to lead nowhere.
This forest once filled with small creatures and birds now empty expect for one living thing a lone boy taking in this majestic scene where animals had once been.
With everything around so silent; its Like are world of violence thought out the ages has written its final pages and brought about a end to are world of violence and bloodshed ; A world where everyone but me is dead .

I feel like I’m the last living being left on our planet; no birds no bees only little old me in this magical world of white I feel I can take flight; and be free not held down by the clutches of are harsh society.
This snowy place will allways hold a special memory for me; A remembrance to that snowy place I've once been.

Details | Marko Kyoto Poem

The Towers of Nyc the Day They Fell

Two standing structures standing up so high touching  tha clear blue sky.
Huge white walls on either side, 
Hundreds of windows reflecting the sky.
 Thousands of workers sit at their desks; unaware  of the fear that is growing near.
its 8:45 people still come to arive; but soon they'll be fighting to survive.
The north tower is struck by a plane and  the 1st tower is turned into a flame.
 
Smoke and ash flow throughout the buliding as people below are screaming.
Videos recording, photos been taken.
News choppers are flying while inside the tower people are dying.
Police try to control the streets as every ones heart beats.
 
People believe its just a plane crash but at 9:03 that rumour is smashed.
The second tower is hit as ash covers people in the street like a pit. 
firefighters suit up to enter the blaze but the smoke is so thick there put in a daze.
Panic and chaos is all around; as bodies jump from windows to fall a long way down .
 
fire is burning all around inside as news crews flim the outside .
People are burning and choking and know that time is getting short .
They ring their families to tell them they'll be fine; but in their hearts they know there out of time .
  
The towers come down with a tundering sound as a great symbol of the U.S is now nothing more than a mess.
Bodies are burnt and burried; sadness is in everyones face as New York City is left a dusty angry place . 
Great towers they used to be; but now these towers of NYC  are just ones memory.

Details | Marko Kyoto Poem

The Recession of the Emerald Isle

The years before 2008 back when are economy was still standing great.
Money was carelessly spent as people thought their wealth; would never melt away but how wrong were they?
Fancy new cars and two or three holidays in the sun a year people thought their cushy life's would never disappear.
The building trade was booming and no one knew that money problems were looming .
Everyone had higher wages; bigger cars and could afford to eat out and drink in fancy bars.

But then in 2008 our economy fell; into a economic hell . As businesses could no longer sell.
Money became tighter and everyone soon knew; it was the end of are economic boom .
Mortgages couldn’t be paid and half built homes with empty hallways where people should have been; just empty like a poor family’s hopes and dreams. Ghost estates were everywhere in the country dozens of houses built now only filled with dirt and filth now for only rats to roam these lonely ghost estates alone.

Morale went down as anger rose from teary-eyed emotions of family’s and well educated people having to leave behind ;
Their memoires and past times in search of a better life in another country they feel; has jobs with a better deal.
Family’s tore apart , heats are broken, small businesses are no more ,the people of the emerald isle no longer smile.

Streets once booming with noise and people; now as quiet as a church steeple .
Less cars drive on are roads as animals are abandoned from their homes .
Crime rates rise up like fire and danger is higher .
Suicidal thoughts are in more peoples minds because their bills keep counting and their tears are mounting.
All the foreigners who once saw are country as a place of hope;now only see are country as been broke

A great economy Ireland used to be; but now just a faded memory of what are country used to be .

Details | Marko Kyoto Poem

Quietly Like a Dead Flower

The air was frosty fresh and tasted of rain, silhouettes of people rushing by as I stood a shadow in the storm.
A single firefly can be seen glowing brighty through the heavy grey mist, it gleems a lovely colour like amethyst .
I'm shadowed in dark clothes just like everyone else nothing special.... nothing less.....
My phone is dead and I have an overwhelming sense of dread; my nerves feel as thin as a tread.
I stare up high towards the hazey clouds and see rain pouring down
I feel transparent.....invisbile to the world around like a ghost, haunting the places I walk most.

I think of dreams ,ambitions, and desires but they feel burned away like a burned out fire, I'm dazzled by cars speeding by.....hoping one would hit me so I could finaly die....
I do wonder if a paradise awaits us after our death or will we just be some memoires and stoires passed down from our children to their's, but there children will have no psysical remembernce of us to bear.

So many questions and emotions running through me at any given time my mind is always thinking and trying to sovle a million different problems at the same time, some I find the answer to in the poerty I rhyme.
Life is a game of many different elements and battles with yourself and those around u, its a never ending fight with everything the world thows at u; one has to be strong like a lion but feminie like a cat in order to win this rat race.
All these thoughts and feelings going on inside my head distacting me from words anyone else has said.

I spend about a hour......... just standing around in the rain, like I've lost all power, quietly like a dead flower.......

Best Poems Written by Marko Kyoto

The Cat

A Snowy Place of Remembrance

The Towers of Nyc the Day They Fell

The Recession of the Emerald Isle

Quietly Like a Dead Flower