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4.4k · Apr 2018
anthony Brady Apr 2018
A jogging man from Bude
was most incredibly rude
being greatly endowed
but imprudenly proud
he did something silly
he trod on his willie
now he's never about in the ****.

2.8k · Jun 2018
anthony Brady Jun 2018
I lived,
to write
my story of
survival for people
who are suffering victims.

"I am content to follow to its source
Every event in action or in thought;
Measure the lot; forgive myself the lot!
When such as I cast out remorse
So great a sweetness flows into the breast
We must laugh and we must sing,
We are blest by everything,
Everything we look upon is blest."

A Dialogue of Self And Soul - W B Yeats
SCENES FROM AN EXAMINED LIFE -  author Anthony J M Brady Available from
1.4k · Mar 2019
anthony Brady Mar 2019
For the writer,
for the poet,
acts of love
fall short.
They know the
best way
to express
the words:
I love you,
is in print  
right  here
on the page.

1.4k · Jun 2018
anthony Brady Jun 2018
“Truly,an abstract masterpiece,
you have just finished Picasso!”

“No, my friend, it’s a disaster:
everything in it is wrong….

… bad, I’m throwing
it away. I can’t stand it.”

“Don’t do that Pablo,
that face could  be
improved: just paint over it?”

“Hmm. Amigo, I would
not know where to start…”

“Start at the nose Pablo,
if I were you…”

The artist studies the canvas:
"the nose? The nose? "

“Qué lástima! I would
if I could find it.”

1.4k · Mar 2019
anthony Brady Mar 2019
Whatever the weather
calm, windy or cool
cats and dogs
I fall for you..
dew drenched
like lightening
like rain storms  
snow showers
hail splashed
sleet slashed
blazing sunshine.
tanga untangled.. climactically.

Bellwether: something that shows how a situation will develop or change:
1.3k · Mar 2019
anthony Brady Mar 2019
Goddess terrain: contoured
curves ***** gently down
to pale breast’s pointing

Cleft soft thighs dividing  
pink downy peaches
open to fern …

…fringed vale where a
secret orchid-shaped  
cave spreads wide…

…its probe luring
lips beyond
the folds of …

…Venus’ veils.
I gaze content
in  finding
inviting petals.

1.2k · May 2019
Getting Attention...
anthony Brady May 2019
I was alarmed as nobody
paid attention to me:
if there was a Plan B -
it was to die - dramatically.

A hangman’s halter I took to  swing
snapped and failed my neck to wring.
Then I drank of hemlock deep:
all it did was make me sleep.

Wide awake I’d somehow made it back
I laid me down  on a railway  track
Alas! never once was I alerted
all trains had been diverted.

It seemed a good idea to me
to drown myself in the Dead Sea:
buoyant in such drink, I did not think
no swimmer  there is known to sink

From a high rise parapet I dropped over
and landed in a cushioned bed of clover.
I tried to cut my jugulars  but By Heck!
the blade was blunt and just grazed my neck.

A contract killer - hired off the shelf -
took the money then shot himself
after stating though he’s willing
I was not worth the killing.

By now getting frantic
on the internet I met a tantric
guru whose advised me tarry
“All I needed was to marry…

…It is a kind of death, all  near
and dear pity you - but it’s clear
you get everybody’s attention
and in obituaries never a mention”.
1.1k · Nov 2015
anthony Brady Nov 2015
Choose in life the tranquil path
paved with peace devoid of wrath
where every  woman and man
love makes welcome hate does ban.
Once found - you can never stray
from the quiet tenor of its way.
Great your burden, heavy the load:
weightless it feels upon that road
where briar, thorns and bramble
give way before you as you ramble
along a route of stingless nettle
and calm and joy upon you settle...

Dispelling sadness, soothing pain;
cooling your ires as gentle rain.
They, who would this pathway find
are those who caring ever mind
their neighbour, known or strange
through all this worldly range.

Dry your tears, greet the smile
bravely face each yearly mile;
be calm, be kind and you will never lose
sight of the pathway that you must choose.

anthony Brady Oct 2018
I prayed earnestly to heaven:
I desperately needed to improve
my means of earthly  communication:
it took a long time to get through.
Then a voice boomed out of clouds:

"All our Deities are very busy -
you're call is important to us. Keep
on praying - we will get back to you."

994 · Oct 2018
anthony Brady Oct 2018
Dim the lights
let me melt in
passion's night.
Let you spread
webs of silky veils
to blind my eyes.
Take my fingers,
let them trace as
braille the skin of
your body contours.
Smoothe its patina
caress, mould it.

Permeate my senses  
guide my travel over
your uncharted map,
voyage ****** terrain:
each inch of you
touched, surveyed
as new routes
are found, explored,
landmarks followed.

Close your eyes
feel the search
of my tender hands
through the darkness
of a night without end.

Expose your
beauteous body
contours, curves
soft swell of *******,
arched thigh cleavage  
cleft half moon peaches
lead me to a fern veiled vale
to secret gorge spread wide,
steer  my roused questor up
the mount of  Venus’ cleft,
to plunge pulsating adown
slippery labile slopes into  
clasps of foaming depths.

Thoughts and vocabulary gleaned from a brief dabbling into HP ****** and Sensual poetry.
anthony Brady May 2019
The secret’s out – Hip! Hip! Horray!
Meghan Markle has had her way:
no papparazzi just a note to state.. framed upon the palace gate..
a baby born to her and Prince Harry.

It was a very private affair - narry
a Home Secretary  was there to see
the birth - a custom ended by decree:
though historically meant as inclusion
t’was deemed at last a male intrusion.

Now in an age where all is bi-
ethnic black and white tie
parently neat and true
with the royal blood line’s
red, white,  and blue.

By George! To Will and Kate
in poetry  - I must relate
there is no comparison
other than that word
rhymes with Harrison.

Hey. Nonny. Nay.
Alack a day -
I must away,
for this verse done and said
I could withall lose my head.

923 · Apr 2019
"He Didn't Sound Fat".
anthony Brady Apr 2019
On a sound route map of the ‘70s,
his church-trained tenor voice
verging at times on falsetto
led  hordes of people to go on
holiday to Greece and Spain.
It was romantic, Mediterranean,
a perfect music background to sea,
“The morning sun”, ouzo and sangria.
Beverley, in the play  Abigail’s Party
voiced devotion to Demis Roussos
in her opinion: “He doesn’t sound fat.”
Kaftan-clad flowing black hair:
Demis was called “The Singing Tent”
Such poetry in song will last forever.  
Sing it again Demis.  


“He had a superb voice. He was an
artist, a friend. I hope he is in a better world.”    
Nana Mouskouri.

Ever and ever, forever and ever you'll be the one
That shines in me like the morning sun
Ever and ever, forever and ever you'll be my spring
My rainbow's end and the song I sing
Take me far beyond imagination
You're my dream come true, my consolation
you'll be my dream
My symphony, my own lover's theme
(Ever and ever forever and ever) my destiny
Will follow you eternally
Take me far beyond imagination
You're my dream come true, my consolation
you'll be the one
That shines in me like the morning sun
(Ever and ever, forever and ever) my destiny
Will follow you eternally

Songwriters: Robert Constandinos / Stylianos Vlavianos
790 · Apr 2018
anthony Brady Apr 2018
I will arise and forage
not for eggs nor bread
for a bowl of porridge
that gets me out of bed.

Smooth like silk
with added milk
not lumpy mind
‘tis good to find
it thick and grey.
No better way
to start the day.

If the spoon stands upright
no need to  get uptight
it passed  the test
of thin or thick.
Got the Tick.
The Best.

Top Recipe:

Take Slade Prison
Add Ronnie Barker
& Richard Beckinsale
Stir in Fulton Mackay
Mr. Barrowclough to serve.

747 · Feb 2019
anthony Brady Feb 2019
Have you found a rhyming Genius,
is there nothing he can't do?
Like in his library penning poems
a plenty - maybe a tome or two.

Have you found a rhyming Genius
a man of truly high esteem,
whose wealth of writing styles
ensures a daily cash-flow stream?

Yes: you found yourself a Genius:
now in a penthouse we both abide,
sunning on  a bloom-filled balcony,
here pouting pigeons perch and glide.

Indeed, you found yourself a Genius
endowed with a mind so fine:
an escort to boutiques and bistros
ordering up for you the finest wine.

Yes: You found yourself a Genius
owning poetry mines - all off-shore:
who even flies by private plane
to quarry, assay, versify their ore.

Yes: you found yourself a Genius
there is nothing he can't do,
when it comes to make you happy
it’s all in rhymes and more for you.

This owes its genesis entirely to the poem - Genius -- Oct 2018 by Christopher Victor Russon.
712 · Dec 2018
anthony Brady Dec 2018
There are times
that are so dark
you feel that
you have been
But, for all you
know, you may
well have been
Hope: a tender
gardener of your
life will give
you space to grow.
Will tear out
every clawing ****
cast all aside,
the rooted troubled
of them you
had no need.

One for the discouraged and feeling all is hopeless.  Earth has naught more fair than those who overcome despair.
648 · May 2019
anthony Brady May 2019
Even if I feel alone
I'm not alone:
my love is close,
ever beside me.
Even when
I'm far away
She is here
next to me
sharing love.

Even when her eyes
are closed and she
dreams in her night
I am here in my way
holding her.
And even if
it looks like
we are apart,
we are never

642 · Nov 2018
anthony Brady Nov 2018
For all who make
up humankind:
there is a season
where each may
cavort and frolic
in the sun.

But only for
a fleeting span
of time, until all
return to the ever
elemental matter of:
earth, water and fire.  

Thus,  we   become
mere ghosts in the
memories of those  
who generously
pause in time to
think of us.

634 · Mar 2018
anthony Brady Mar 2018
I am made for you, woman
of substance: finest cut
sheer in silk to fit my
chic lady of style.

Short sleeves
or long:  
smooth me
press me
wear me.

In chill and cold
let me cling
around your
curvy contours
close and tight.

In noon-day heat
free me
hanging loose
to cool you.

Drench me in  fragrance
caress my soft collar
then gently discard  me
plunging me deep
into soft soapy foam.

anthony Brady Nov 2014
They Did Not give Their Lives:
                          Their Lives Were taken From Them.

The boy soldiers formed up in line:
the Sergeant inspected each in turn.
Colonel Forde (retired)
took the salute; the cadet’s
drilled colour party moved off.

Towards the village Cross
the troop marched on,
and as the band struck
up the tune “Blaze Away”
flocks of pigeons rose
from misted fields
exploding into flight
spreading like shrapnel
to enfilade the distant trees.

Crackling gunfire
echoed in the woods
and pheasants beat
from cover plunged
to earth, killed
in fern and bracken
by weekend shooting
party’s fusillade.

On the war memorial wreathes rested
where villager’s names inscribed on stone
are listed Unforgotten. The church bell
chimed an end to silent minute. A bugle
call died away as birds sang out an anthem.

Tony Brady
614 · Nov 2018
Badgers? TB or not TB!
anthony Brady Nov 2018
TB or not TB!
Is it in the badgers?
That is the question.
Whether 'tis noticed
elsewhere - slurry perchance.
As they shuffle off the coils
of barbed wire or dodge  the
slings and arrows of culler’s  slaughter
for outrageous fortune,
who for them will take up arms
with a see  of dissidents
and by opposing
end the heart-ache, the
thousand natural shocks
their setts are heir to?
'Tis a consummation
devoutly to be wish'd.

William  Spearshake
anthony Brady Oct 2018
They married in the merry month of May
at Windsor Castle  - Hey Noney Ney!
So, Meghan and Prince Harry
decided not to tarry.
Now a baby’s on the way.
next Spring - they say..
The Queen’s amused
The Duke’s bemused
Prince Charles enthused:
saying to Duchess Camilla,
“A Jolly Good Show! Oh Joy!”
Said she: “A girl or boy?”
Said HRH "Don't tease.  
One or the other -
no transgender if you please,
nor talk of Succession
to threaten my Accession.”

610 · Mar 2019
anthony Brady Mar 2019
Now I was young and easy. Led
entranced under plum tree blossoms
drifting along the sloping drive
to white-washed walled Stud Farm.
This ecstasy of being cool pig-pink
sunk happy in a mud brown wallow.
Then I was bold and carefree,
working among the barns
busy about the happy yard
on the farm that was home.
Young once only, in my kingdom
as Time let me live my dreams.
It carried me over and over again
in daytime walking or running,
it was lovely, the sweet scents:
fragrant hay field’s cut grass
and herbage fully sun dried.

Or, I pedalled in evenings
led by bicycle-dynamo-beamed
light under the stars to sleep.
Above me the barn owls were
claiming skies of swallows clear.
Coppice hooting in preludes,
there bats about soon flitted
where  tiny glow worms flickered.

Then to dawn awake: the farm,
mist-shrouded as a roamer white
dew cloaked, returning to hear
****’s crowing from hen coops
black cawing crows in the trees.

Glimpsing the same clear sky
changed from yesterday
into today’s white and blue.
The same sun but born again.
The distant church bells ringing.

Nothing I cared for more
than pink piglets new born,
just meadow-birthed lambs
and black and white calves
that would take up my time:
to hold me to the farm forever
released from orphanage hold.

Oh! I was so young and easy.
In the mercy of its means,
Time held me as I was flying
while I threw off captive
chains - at last unshackled - free.

This poem owes much to the poem - Fern Hill - by Dylan Thomas. I spent 12 harsh years as a foundling in a variety of orphanages. Then I was moved to an agricultural training school - graduating to be a farm worker until aged 21. Then I moved to Belgium caring for life-time TB afflicted survivors from concentration camps.
582 · Oct 2013
September Face Remembered
anthony Brady Oct 2013
September Face Remembered
A year ago September
two strangers briefly met
joked, laughed, talked awhile
that day was wet;
Yet it's her smile
that I still remember.

I can't say why
that look so rare
recurs then lingers new
in my thoughts. Care
flees, sorrows are few
one year's gone by.

Eleven months, thirty days
mindful of her glance
I watch with pain
waiting for one chance
of meeting her again
passing along my ways.

Waiting: looking for some
sign of her. Last
year it rained. Wet
streets anew today. Past,
Present, pause. I fret
anxious. Will she come?

TOBIAS  The Other Being I Am Sometimes
572 · Oct 2015
anthony Brady Oct 2015
The fallen leaves that spun in leaps
and bounds at every chattering gust
now lie trapped in rustling heaps
or whirl about as drifting dust.

These leaves that once the sound
of wind moved in whispering green
revealed those birds that found
cover in their shifting screen.

Lone in a park’s summer shade
a single homeless man has found
some shelter – his bed he made
safe under bushes dry and sound.

Weeks into months he slept unseen
and squirrels peeped from drey
on sheltered form as the green
canopy thinned to brown and grey.

One Autumn day as gentle breezes flayed
the leafy blanket off the man concealed
top deck bus commuters saw revealed
the curled up body in death decayed.

565 · Jan 2019
anthony Brady Jan 2019
I have a dear friend
for some time:
her name is

Today she told me
it's time to enter
her inner sanctum.
I was anxious,
humbled, awe-filled.

At the doors
of her Cathedral
of Wisdom
I hesitated.

It was daunting,
the mystery, fear
of the unknown
overpowering me.  

An internal
struggle of whether
it might just be much
safer to remain in the
life to which I’m so
accustomed than
risk it all by having
certain comfortable
illusions dispensed with.

Understanding told me
that enter the temple I must,
because loving her is trust,
making  the decision inevitable.

562 · May 2019
anthony Brady May 2019
I watch you. Unbooted,
stripping off daylight.
Bare, birthday suited,
silvered in moonlight.

I thrill - my pulses racing
you lie chilled out tracing
edges of dark and light
etched in shades of night.

You reach out to me as kin  
drawn to skin on skin
together we lie as on fire
freeing all our love's desire.

Awake in pre-dawn twilight,
we bathe in rays of delight
as you don filtered raiment
shimmering in  golden sunlight.

chiaroscuro: the interplay of dark and light. . shadow and clarity.
559 · Aug 2019
anthony Brady Aug 2019
To envisage You,
body, mind, soul,
in moods of longing
when all words fail
and language is lost
in the translation,
I lay down my pen.
Then trace your heart
in outline on my
canvas  of dreams.

553 · Mar 2018
anthony Brady Mar 2018
Where does it go
that hour
when clocks
go back
or forward?

Does time stop
to welcome
Spring's return,
bidding the
Winter - farewell?

Or, pause
for  Summer's
lease to bring
in Autumn's
early eves?

No: sleep lost
or gained
holds secret
the time
and the hour.

Change as you
may the hands of
watch or clock:
the sundial shadow
falls unaltered.

533 · Oct 2018
anthony Brady Oct 2018
Waiter? There is a hair
in my soup - right there!
Take it back to the Chef.
I demand an explanation!
Sorry Sir! The Chef sends
a replacement in amends,
though it is not his habit,
it wasn't hare but rabbit.

452 · Aug 2020
anthony Brady Aug 2020
I gaze up at the sky:
all day cast in shades of blue
as clouds move in harmony
when night shades of darkness
etch textured moonlight watching
in the wake of this passing day.

I think of you in nautical miles:
for in whatever distance we are
we share the same sky
over a smooth or rough sea
reflecting the same drops of water
in hues of blue in my imagination
forming you on the horizon.

It is then I listen out
in the solitude of my room:
some times in the same dark
some times in the same light
for the still sound of your voice
for the plain sight of your smile.

450 · Feb 2019
anthony Brady Feb 2019
Pigs might fly:
aware of you
the stents in
my heart flap.
I wonder since
it could take off
in maiden flight,
will it be able
to touchdown?
I don’t know:
my heart has
its reasons
but won’t say.

435 · Apr 2018
Not Wot Wordsworth Wrote...
anthony Brady Apr 2018
Wordsworth’s waved and danced:
mine just bend, bow and nod,
in a sight, densely displayed
upon a mossy bank.

No lake there, nor cloud
in the sky,neither am I lonely.
I'm here with a girl called April.
Counting those yellow heads
is easy: sixty, if I’m not mistaken.

How William “...saw ten thousand
at a glance..” from a closet, baffles me.
It seems daffodils make you gay
and sprightly dance - jocund too -
at least they made him so.

Now supine upon my comfy couch
I lie - in breezy mood of parody,
it transports me off to Holland.
where  in Amsterdam counting tulips,
Naughty Weekend April is beside me.

433 · Jan 2019
anthony Brady Jan 2019
Make space for those
fleeing social distress.
Be a link in a golden
unbreakable chain of
all-welcoming mercy.
Give gladly of yourself.
Receive in good grace.
Redistribute your gains.
Reinvest what you profit.

Care first for the weakest.
Assist in every way the
honourably  intended.
Generate hope by
imitating doers: those
motivators of good.
Keep an open mind.
Confound cynic’s doubts.
Generate kindness.

Heal all wounds with love.
Let peace and friendliness
radiate dissolving darkness.

Some words to live by. Inspired by Poetry Journal's poem - Merry Christmas 2018 -
428 · Jul 2019
anthony Brady Jul 2019
I held your hands, you healed my pain
onto my heart inscribed your name
shared your joys while all the while
dissolved the sorrows behind my smile.

Even before the ink began to dry
You helped me find the truth
revealed right there upon the page
the clearest meaning in the verse.

I knew if ever we went astray
the sun would still rise and set
I would read your words that guide
words such as: “Be not Afraid.”

Fate bear me now on wings
to that dear solitary place
where you in peace repose
there  I will join you...

...then until the end of time
we will wander through
a sacred world: your heart
in mine and mine in thine.

Friendship can be greater and more powerful than love. Of course, love and friendship, when intimately combined, are the bedrock of the perfect relationship
425 · Mar 2019
anthony Brady Mar 2019
He  slides tender
fingers tracing the
trunk of her spine

Leafy robes slip down
limbs bend sighing in
fragrant breeze's drift

Her skin is sylvan
each gesture dares
his every intention

She is pliant in his
palms, her arms are
branches open wide

Reposed inside her bole he  
feels her bend and sway
No storm can fell her.

Her roots spread deep
as deep as her love.

417 · Jun 2019
anthony Brady Jun 2019
Tease my tongue with yours
so I may savour your poetry
sipped sweet from your lips

Let it flow in verses
as kisses lingering in
our memories forever.

Tattoo it in caresses
on pristine pages
of my skin.

Then I will slip from
verses of fantasy
into your arms.

415 · Oct 2018
anthony Brady Oct 2018
Your pulsing energy releases
deepest tender emotions:
they flow into my heart
casting out bleakness,
in a gentle morn awakening.

Breaking silence, your voice
in poetry of true acceptance,
calls to me.  I become aware again
of your strength and stability:
then my eyes see beyond beauty.

It wells up from knowing
that  deep within ourselves,
loveliness cannot exist without the
knowledge of comparison of what
is ever undeniably true or false.

We can in solitude see
through fate’s deceptions.
Nothing can stop love from entering.
Thoughts made of illusions are destroyed.  
Mystical visions of truth are revealed.

Passions that have always been
within both of us are stirred.
Now clinging fears flee hence:
we stand together Twin Flames
strong in certainty.  We feel the
power of love in ourselves that is timeless.

See: Twin Flame Poetry - Treasury 1-5 . Published by
409 · Oct 2019
It's All in The Can..
anthony Brady Oct 2019
Do all the good you can,
by all the means you can,
in all the ways you can,
in all the places you can,
at all the times you can,
to all the people you can,
as long as ever you can.

John Wesley
408 · Apr 2015
Evaporated Fame
anthony Brady Apr 2015
A ticking clock.  Footsteps.  Wind.  Applause.
               Homeless:  after midnight.  Sheltered in this cold
               church  doorway.  I can hear a clock
               ticking  in  its tower.
               Rustling  leaves, tossed  along  wet pavement
                in a callous wind
                sound  like approaching footsteps.
                In  famished  sleep  I dream  of  former  glory.
                Me.  A celebrity. Yeah!  – big time.
                All I  have  now are  fading echoes
                of  cheering crowds. Some comfort.
                The applause dies.  I awake: alone with
                 sounds.  A  clock ticking.  Leaf  blown  footsteps.
                 A  cheerless wind.  
398 · May 2018
Words Come Easy...
anthony Brady May 2018
How easy it is for me to say: -
Have the best of days -:
to wish you a day full
of goodness is far
from nearly enough.

I want your every day
to be filled with happiness.
I want you to feel how
much I love you every minute
of every new day - for always.

I want to always be there for you.
to help you be strong, yet kind.
You teach me by example,
helping me to become
the kinder  person I aspire to be.

You are a perfect example of a mother:
to your beautiful daughter - to me as well.
Thank you for being the mother you are.
Thank you for being my Strength:
my Way, my Light, my Lover.
I love You.

393 · Dec 2018
anthony Brady Dec 2018
You are my best Christmas present.
Gift wrapped. Heaven sent.
Ribbon bound. Temptation led.
Gently I lay you flat upon the bed,.
holding back  the urge to tear
away those flimsy bonds to bare
naked seductions  waiting there.

A long slow peeling’s best:
a stripping back of the rest
layer on layer until unsealed
sensual delights are all revealed.
Now let’s set our souls on fire
make free in all that we desire,
indulging passion’s every sin.

393 · Mar 2018
A Beggar's Benison
anthony Brady Mar 2018
Like Lazarus, I sat on
The Mansion House steps:
a citizen of  The City
gave me the bus fare
to St. John’s, Waterloo.
Underground I dived.

Surfaced and sheltered
by the church portico
I learned that a beggar
is nothing more than
the passive recipient
of a stranger’s kindness.

When I was hungry
you gave me food;
water when thirsty.
My clothes were gifted,
shelter you found for me.
Kind were  your words.

For these comforts
I lift up my hands
no longer in distress
but benediction:
gifting as poor return
all that you gave to me.

Blessed are the Merciful,
for they will receive Mercy.
Deo Gratias!

Tony Brady
391 · Oct 2018
anthony Brady Oct 2018
Your raw material is Humanity:
You ponder - you produce.
You make things beautiful,
You make beautiful things.
You allow them space,
set them in their place,
to be themselves:
Herself – Himself.
This is The Way
The Way to Love.

388 · Apr 2018
anthony Brady Apr 2018
It was the dawn’s first song
sung  upon a dormer sill:
that euphoric  sound
from orange beak
trilling  his sweet
notes all around.

with others
soon joining in,
all thought of work
was forgotten with a smile
Caruso entertained me for a while.

Not the singer of former age
in concert hall on global stage:
to mention Enrico by name and fame.
Only an urban  blackbird among a throng
of birds in carefree chorus of morning song.

371 · Jun 2018
anthony Brady Jun 2018
A Coat
By William Butler Yeats

I made my song a coat
Covered with embroideries
Out of old mythologies
From heel to throat;
But the fools caught it,
Wore it in the world’s eyes
As though they’d wrought it.
Song, let them take it
For there’s more enterprise
In walking naked.

367 · Oct 2018
anthony Brady Oct 2018
A hedgehog, while traversing a road
gave a lift to a tentative toad.
As the piggy-back was prickly
they traversed it quite quickly.
and made it safely over the road.

365 · Sep 2019
The Wild Old Wicked Man
anthony Brady Sep 2019
'Because I am mad about women
I am mad about the hills,'
Said that wild old wicked man
Who travels where God wills.
'Not to die on the straw at home.
Those hands to close these eyes,
That is all I ask, my dear,
From the old man in the skies.'
                Daybreak and a candle-end.

'Kind are all your words, my dear,
Do not the rest withhold.
Who can know the year, my dear,
when an old man's blood grows cold? '
I have what no young man can have
Because he loves too much.
Words I have that can pierce the heart,
But what can he do but touch?'
                Daybreak and a candle-end.

Then said she to that wild old man,
His stout stick under his hand,
'Love to give or to withhold
Is not at my command.
I gave it all to an older man:
That old man in the skies.
Hands that are busy with His beads
Can never close those eyes.'
                Daybreak and a candle-end.

'Go your ways, O go your ways,
I choose another mark,
Girls down on the seashore
Who understand the dark;
***** talk for the fishermen;
A dance for the fisher-lads;
When dark hangs upon the water
They turn down their beds.'
                Daybreak and a candle-end.

'A young man in the dark am I,
But a wild old man in the light,
That can make a cat laugh, or
Can touch by mother wit
Things hid in their marrow-bones
From time long passed away,
Hid from all those warty lads
That by their bodies lay.'
                Daybreak and a candle-end.

'All men live in suffering,
I know as few can know,
Whether they take the upper road
Or stay content on the low,
Rower bent in his row-boat
Or weaver bent at his loom,
Horseman ***** upon horseback
Or child hid in the womb.'
                Daybreak and a candle-end.

'That some stream of lightning
From the old man in the skies
Can burn out that suffering
No right-taught man denies.
But a coarse old man am I,
I choose the second-best,
I forget it all awhile
Upon a woman's breast.'
                Daybreak and a candle-end.
W B Yeats
362 · Nov 2018
anthony Brady Nov 2018
Your love is Spring’s first breath
fragrant on gentle healing hands,
gifting me energy: the will to live.
Your kisses upon my lips are feathery
as leaves drifting in late Autumn.
Your love enfolds my heart
like dew in crystal cascades.
Winter reflects in your eyes,
snowflakes melt on your face.
Your skin is warm
like the Summer sun,
and when you touch me,
new ardours flare.
The moon pulls us together
thrusting away tensions,
moving energy as waves
of emotion through our veins.
You are the breath of Spring.
The kisses of Autumn.

356 · Jun 2019
anthony Brady Jun 2019
You are to me what
dreams are made of.
I dream of you in lots
of different ways.
For example:
touching stars,
flying angels,
riding on clouds,
making magic
seeing fairies
writing happy-
ever-after- tales.
I count the ways
I dream of you.
Best of all  
every dream
of you - just
as you  are -
came true.

354 · Jul 2019
anthony Brady Jul 2019
On frozen heights
I had searched
anew for you
close to sunlit
clouds, the stars..

…between dreams,
romantic fantasies,
on paths of verse
laid down for me
landmarks set out
as passion’s trails.

Just out of reach
but always there,
to find at last
you in solitude.

Alone, I traced your
steps, followed all
imprinted on pristine
snows of memory.

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