Collection: Third Shards of Broken Glass

ONE TWENTY-FIVE

June 15, 2026 by Robert Myrnyj

“ONE TWENTY-FIVE” is a dark carnival poem that blends grotesque Americana, gothic folklore, and satirical character study into the form of a twisted sideshow pitch. The tone is playful on the surface but deeply cynical underneath, with a voice that mimics the cadence of a carnival barker inviting the audience into a spectacle of human corruption and emotional deformity. One of the poem’s strongest qualities is its use of repetition, functioning both as refrain and accusation, suggesting that monstrosity is cheap entertainment and universally accessible. The poem cleverly subverts traditional freak-show imagery by rejecting physical oddities in favor of moral and emotional grotesqueries. The imagery is vivid, strange, and memorable throughout. Written for the “A Shattered Cup of Doom” novella, this poem appears in the “Third Shards of Broken Glass” chapbook.

“ONE TWENTY-FIVE”

freak show freak show
in a dusty old canvas tent
not your ordinary freak show
one twenty-five will get you in
one twenty-five will get you in

we got no bearded woman
we got no dog-faced boy

but come and see
come as you are
see the ghost of a witch
in an old ball jar

come and see
here today
leaving soon
a werewolf chained
to a cemetery moon

one twenty-five will get you in

we got no midgets
no siamese twins

but come and see
come as you are
see a big strong man
with a little shrunken heart

come and see
leaving soon
got no future
a two-faced bitch
stitched
on a headless rooster

one twenty-five will get you in
one twenty-five will get you in

Copyright © 2026 Robert Myrnyj | All rights reserved.
The poems and literary works presented here are original creations by the author.
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SMOKE AND DOOM

May 25, 2026 by Robert Myrnyj

“SMOKE AND DOOM” is a richly atmospheric noir-gothic narrative poem that blends occult romance, dive-bar Americana, and supernatural suspense into a cinematic tale of betrayal and reckoning. The tone is smoky, seductive, and increasingly ominous, while the voice carries the swaggering cadence of a late-night folk ballad told by someone half-drunk and fully haunted. One of the poem’s greatest strengths is its immersive world-building: neon-lit bars, whiskey-soaked card tables, and spectral witchcraft merge seamlessly into a coherent emotional and visual landscape. The poem excels at momentum and escalation, moving from grounded details of gambling and masculine bravado into something mythic and uncanny without losing narrative clarity. Its imagery is especially vivid, creating a palpable supernatural tension that transforms a barroom into a ritual space. The recurring archetypes deepen the poem’s thematic obsession with temptation, jealousy, and fatal attraction. Written for the “A Shattered Cup of Doom” novella, this poem appears in the “Third Shards of Broken Glass” chapbook.

“SMOKE AND DOOM”

with taillights red, a witch ascends
and disappears around the bend
and out beyond his line of sight
she hooked a left when home was right

she soars off to master midnight
some old wolf who wears her bat bite
and wishes on this shooting star
and lives on main atop a bar

and downstairs where the neon burns
where whiskey rules and tables turn
and cut-throat spades and smoke and doom
a golden blonde entered the room

just playing cards and scarred and jinxed
while waiting on his midnight minx
and he was falling far behind
drew a two, bid seven blind

replete with beer and losing hands
and broken dreams and one night stands
he ate the minus seventy
and then the blonde pulled up a seat

and no one seemed to take it strange
how suddenly his luck had changed
she bucked up next to where he sat
and rubbed against him like a cat

and like new money on skid row
another round for all his bro’s
joking laughing bold and young
stuck in that old seattle grunge

no one heard them steps a-comin’
through the thudding and the strumming
but who could ever trust the moon
when sometimes midnight strikes too soon

unseen but all could smell the sin
like black smoke she just drifted in
and hovered there til she took form
and drew the wolf across the floor

the world stopped spinning, time had ceased
the witch drew all the air to breathe
a whisper from some black beyond
asked master midnight

who’s the blonde

NIGHTSTALKER

May 24, 2026 by Robert Myrnyj

“NIGHTSTALKER” is a dark mythic narrative poem that fuses gothic horror, apocalyptic prophecy, and folk-ballad cadence into the portrait of an almost supernatural avenger. The tone is relentless, severe, and judgmental, driven by a voice that feels both biblical and cinematic, as though recounting the legend of an unstoppable hunter sent to punish corruption and evil. The poem’s strongest quality is its sustained momentum. The imagery is vivid and forceful throughout, creating a world steeped in violence, judgment, and religious symbolism. The poem also succeeds in balancing archetypal grandeur with accessible diction, making the central figure feel both legendary and immediate. Particularly effective is the moral ambiguity surrounding the character: though positioned as a destroyer of wickedness, his total lack of mercy gives the poem an unsettling edge. Written for the “A Shattered Cup of Doom” novella, this poem appears in the “Third Shards of Broken Glass” chapbook.

“NIGHTSTALKER”

the nightstalker feeds
on death and on sin
the wealth of the devil
means nothing to him
he reads from a scroll
of murder and lies
and abominable objects
that men idolize
the nightstalker sees
through the ancient of days
and he tracks like a wolf
onto blood and decay
the light he draws down
is a fistful of sun
silver-eyed certain
he knows what you’ve done
the nightstalker wastes not
and works all alone
and he tramples on demons
with boots hewn from stone
each footstep a hammer
brought down on a nail
the men bow in shame
and the womenfolk wail
the nightstalker prowls
with an ear to the ground
there’s no sinner silent,
and no innocence found
there will be no doubt,
no pity or remorse
there will be no mercy,
there will be no recourse
the nightstalker creed,
destroy the destroyer
falling like hailstones
on down to gomorrah
so waste not your breath,
he hears not excuses
the dead one’s are clever,
insane, and elusive
the nightstalker feeds
on death and on sin
and the cries of the wicked
mean nothing to him

FUNNY MAYBE

May 25, 2026May 23, 2026 by Robert Myrnyj

“Funny Maybe” is a strong, thematically dense lyric poem that blends anti-romantic confession with folk-blues cadence. A reflective poem of a love lost, it maintains a sharp tension between trauma and divine order as principle factors in romance, where only wisdom prevails, but the source of wisdom is God, who many ignore or deny. Written for the “A Shattered Cup of Doom” novella, this poem appears in the “Third Shards of Broken Glass” chapbook.

“FUNNY MAYBE”

romance is a double-edged
sword of bliss and pain
what one day finds sophisticated
another finds insane
i met her on the road to torment
dancing in the rain
funny how its feast or famine
funny how things change

i learned the hard way long ago
and true the light remains
a man can stand tall in a storm
a boy gets washed away
i was never not the fool
up to wisdom, faith and grace
so what fool any better than
the one so blind to his own face

they say the road to hell’s so wide
that we need never know the way
just what we’re apt to think and do
will surely get us there someday
by god i did not die the fool
by god all things made new again
lest i’d forever be beneath
her spell and tethered to her fate

her wrath was bred for so she said
on trauma no one sane could face
and so averse, she to the curse,
castrated patriarchal ways
and there the seed, revenge and rage
into the dirt of dark decay
stretched a hand out to the moonlight
that predator might become prey

but for suitors woe was but a ruse
a pagan priestess yet a saint
and all for good that it harm none
but such it is until it ain’t
no light true is born of darkness
no good comes from bitter hate
and yet the line runs round the corner
where in the rain so many wait

i met her on the road to torment
planting roses in a vase
funny how it keeps repeating
funny, maybe, surely strange
one sure thing a fool will do
is take up arms, defend her name
a knight in shining armor, no
just icarus into the flame

TWENTIETH & SIXTH

April 25, 2026 by Robert Myrnyj

The mystical and darkly spiritual work called “Twentieth & Sixth” is something of a ghost story, a snapshot in the back story of the antagonist character in the “A Shattered Cup of Doom” novella. The poem is an Urban Gothic type with a note of Melancholic Lyrical that conveys the haunting memory of a particular crossroads and emanates from the battered psyche of one particularly troubled witch, an unlikely villain silently seething with vengeance and relentlessly nursing a vicious agenda. The poem is released in the “Third Shards of Broken Glass” chapbook.

“TWENTIETH & SIXTH”

lonelier, yet,
than just alone,
ghost of passion
bastard drone
undead adrift,
chained to a myth
of some church
twentieth and sixth
where some are born
and some are cloned
but all them boys
are turned to stone
the fruits of one
ecstatic kiss
all avenues
lead me to this

RUST AND THISTLE

April 9, 2026 by Robert Myrnyj

“Rust and Thistle” was written in 2026 as part of the back story of the narration character in the “A Shattered Cup of Doom” novella. It is a Dark Gothic work wrought with ghostly tones and woeful elegy, developed most ironically out of roadside decay. It is a snapshot given in the “Third Shards of Broken Glass” chapbook collection. This poem warrants a trigger warning, so be advised.

“RUST AND THISTLE”

a low wind moans and
flutters basted tufts of roadkill bristle
gangly shadow fingers
scratch and claw at grit and grizzle
fly fandango carcass
bloated rancid and abysmal

along the river road

on the cemetery lawn
a sleeping fawn,
she was my bride
once upon a time
wrapped in linen lace and
scabs and gauze,
a memory survived
once upon a time
but when the shadow of
the butler touched
her shoulder from behind
once upon a time
the mirror of her soul
collapsed to fragments
in her mind
once upon a time

once upon a time

an old wind moans and
mutters distant puffs of railroad whistle
and there ahead i am, i am
a tin can wrapped in rust and thistle
the skulking shadow lingers
last remains but no dismissal

along the river road
once upon a time
along the river road

FOR ALL TIME

April 9, 2026 by Robert Myrnyj

Written in 2026, “For All Time” is, in its beauty and wonder, perhaps the most unsettling poem in the dark and dreary realm of the “A Shattered Cup of Doom” novella. It is the linchpin that holds past, present, and future together as one and it is the burst of dawn following a deeply foreboding night. The warmth, the light, and the life of “For All Time” is both the beginning and the ending of the novella, the alpha and the omega. Though it registers with simplicity as Pastoral and Idyllic in tone, it is a very unique work that covers many poetic genres. In its constitution, “For All Time” is at once, Pastoral / Idyllic, strongly Lyric, certainly Romantic / Love Poetry to the fullest, very deeply Religious and Spiritual, and loosely but assuredly Narrative. It is presented in the “Third Shards of Broken Glass” collection, but also stands alone in dedication to the excellent wife that the LORD GOD blessed me with.

“FOR ALL TIME”

some time after dawn
a glaze of dew yet on the lawn
an old man and his pups
beneath the old catalpa tree
and the woman so fair
her blue eyes and golden hair
a kettle and two cups
she brings to him his morning tea

and god is good and god is kind
the peace of christ is peace of mind
and in her weary eyes he finds
his home, his hearth, his partner
for all time

in the noonday sun
he sees his course is not yet run
he has toiled not enough
to set his soul and spirit free
and the woman so fair
her blue eyes and golden hair
as he rolls up his cuffs
brings lemonade and levity

and god is good and god is kind
and blessed are the vows that bind
for in his weary eyes she finds
her home, her hearth, her partner
for all time

when the chains are loosed
the orpingtons come home to roost
he wipes his brow, shakes the dust,
and ascends above his elegy
and the woman so fair
her blue eyes and golden hair
cuddled up with the mutts
brings the wine of their liturgy

and god is good and god is kind
and here for heartbeats so inclined
for in his ancient eyes they find
their home, their hearth, their partner
for all time

evening descends
and midnight moonlight burns again
for legacy he must
spin fortune from calamity
and the woman so fair
her blue eyes and golden hair
a perfect act of trust
kisses him, turns in, and falls asleep