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Marisa Moynihan Poem
This idol, this man holds a place in my heart.
He speaks of Ziggy Star Dust and Major Tom, so I don't know were to start.
He played as a king of a goblin land.
Watching and listening to him makes me crumble like sand.
David Bowie s melodies and performances are genuinely an art.
Copyright © Marisa Moynihan | Year Posted 2013
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Marisa Moynihan Poem
There once was a man named Stan.
His rump was too big for his van.
He sat down on his couch.
It yelled out a loud ouch.
This made him feel less of a man.
Copyright © Marisa Moynihan | Year Posted 2013
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Marisa Moynihan Poem
Have you listened to Johnny Cash.
His pipes were made out of brass.
He made the ladies weep as they fell into his ring of fire.
Leaving them love sick and hopeless with desire.
Copyright © Marisa Moynihan | Year Posted 2013
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Marisa Moynihan Poem
He raised his arms in front of me in a stance.
Hoping for a hug, as my side met his hand.
Instead of a friendly gesture of the touch.
I lingered and wanted more, oh so much.
I faked for a hug and pushed him close.
The feel of his lips is what I wanted most.
As I drew him near and felt his space.
I took all the love, the glory, and breathed in such grace.
The static off our lips made sparks fly.
Leaving me praying for this moment to never die.
Copyright © Marisa Moynihan | Year Posted 2013
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Marisa Moynihan Poem
I feel lost in a world of madness and fear,
even after gaining truth over the years.
My mind is in numbers, ideas, and in strong words,
my thoughts are running in deep values by the herds.
I question, when will this craziness stop,
will my emotions hit rock bottom or will they flow over like an uncontrollable boiling pot.
Then I remember that special place,
where darkness and sadness are not to traced.
Love and happiness rules this land,
every moment there makes one feel grand.
I go to be curious, adventurous, and free,
to giggle and smile with a heart filled of glee.
The wonders and joys of this amazing space,
brings all much hope and grace.
Where is this place do you ask,
to explain its whereabouts isn't an easy task.
So I'll give you a hint on where to find yours,
it may even help open some doors.
The place isn't even really a place it's a who,
it's that warm hearted child in you.
Copyright © Marisa Moynihan | Year Posted 2013
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Marisa Moynihan Poem
As I walked down the street it hit me.
It was silence, invisible, and my poor health was it's key.
I tried all to fight it, drop after pill of medicines.
The fear it brings is high and menacing.
I stay locked away in my apartment until this virus decides to let us be.
Copyright © Marisa Moynihan | Year Posted 2020
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Marisa Moynihan Poem
As he tipped her off with swollen eyes and words to cry. He tells himself a little lie, for she isn’t as fair as I. He hides his face of extreme sly, holding his breathe menacing a bye. For is truly a gentle guy, who digs to deep and fears to cry. Within a space near his heart, a broken place holds him tart. Wanting for a better and hoping for a grand, but bleeding of rains and burning down man.
He wants to give her whispers; he wants to be a man. The breaking of his world not allowing him to stand brings the cracking of his heart turning him to sand. Searching for a vision of a better tomorrow, trying to conceal an ocean of deep sorrow. Forcing out a smile, hiding behind eyes and blinded by such secrets indeed does despise. For he who does demand of passion and security, but realities of bitter sweets won’t surely let him be.
As she glazes past her follow man, she notices a heart not of sorrow but of grand. Looking upon as a witness to a picture incomplete and pouring out a love begging for a weep. Seizing for a halt and bracing as she stands. Find a great truth which is held deep within her hands. Racing toward to guide, bend forth of part, wanting to life but not able to reach the heart. Leading out a meaning, forcing to understand, for what a challenge she sees within this broken man.
I shall show him bliss and release him of his lies, not forbidding borrows but switching out goodbyes. Stand here beside this gentle of creature, exposing all his values and unearthing all the features. As she does to him as well as to herself, leafing out with words which in clear to be dealt.
She spokes of being bind and opening of kind. Asking for forgiveness and lightening up with divine. For my follow self, I am wishing of command and guiding you to salvation of departure of this sorrow in which you stand. Let me be your reason to brighten all your land, allowing some closure and purpose as a man.
Copyright © Marisa Moynihan | Year Posted 2013
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Marisa Moynihan Poem
In a town of a place not too far from near,
lays a market in a corner pocket hidden from most eyes and ears.
The sign of location to this unmarked market of a place, is left difficult to see even when in your gasping face.
The irony of this place is to which is sold, out with the new and in with the old.
The vendors are mean and iceburg cold, so keep in line and do what your told.
If they point an arrow of a finger your way, run straight home and don't stray.
Copyright © Marisa Moynihan | Year Posted 2018
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