"braden" poems
Step right up and buy some dreams
He's got tattooed arms and he'll propose to you with cubic zirconia rings, promises of hearts warmed and shiny things
Beware of what the future brings, he'll spread your broken wings and let you fall
Right into a pit of tar and feathers
You'll think you belong together
But he's a trainwreck clad in ink and leather
And he'll sever the tethers and let you go it alone, ignore your pleas for affection but his spell is like an infection- it won't go away unless treated with equal aggression
What's his motive? Why break all these hearts, why ***** out girls like spent candles
I don't think he even knows how to handle himself
But one things for sure- this boy sells dreams, don't you buy them.
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 8:45 PM UTC
The Doggie was white,
and the Kitty was black,
as they crouched at each end of the floor
Their eyes never met,
because the rules were set,
that the dog would chase the cat as before
At night came the darkness,
and the Kitty stood up
and headed right straight to the door
But the Doggie just lay there with his head
on his paws, and thought:
“Tonight—is quite different for sure”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
‘For Kiley, Hunter, Braden & Parker’
My Grandchildren
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 9:38 PM UTC
Alicia,
Brynde,
Braden,
Kate,
This one's for you,
My children....
Alicia came upon a wish,
Surprise, surprise!
Our lives could never be the same,
Bright and pretty,
Intelligence to stun....
Brynde followed within two years
To join her sister,
To make life full,
A way with Daddy's heart,
A feisty soul,
And willful charmer of bees.
Braden's entrance brought me joy,
To join me as our only boy,
A melancholy son at times, but sharp
At math and quick debate,
Able bodied little man now tall and strong,
I am so glad you came along.
When Katelyn joined our band of five,
We both were stunned, and yet the joy
You brought us with your winning smiles,
Your brains and voice and dancer beauty
Cannot be measured, can't be bought.
As I am growing old, I've cried my share of tears,
I've laughed and raved and mourned the years,
I thought my work was in another place away
From you, my bonnie bairns, but as the years come on,
I must give thanks for you...each one,
And count myself a man so blessed
To have four children safely born,
To have a loving wife,
My only love, and Mother of you all.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 11:41 AM UTC
the things you did, said, thought were flea bites compared to the pain of what you did not
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 7:23 PM UTC
I was born on the twelfth day of the year
Just in time to be the last disciple but not soon enough that you'll remember my name
I'm the third of four children
Which is to say, I'm 75% sure that I know what I'm doing
I prefer even numbers and odd people
My ideal date is public people watching
Because if two people can unwrite a strangers life story then maybe they can use that to write their own
I'm an extremely picky eater
The only green things I like are cucumbers and money
And I'm far pickier than my personality permits
I've been told I'm quiet
But I'm the kind of quiet you should be afraid of
The kind of quiet that is observant enough to unmake you
The kind of quiet that does so to himself
I've got a poker face you wouldn't believe because I don't always either
I keep my cards close to the chest, sometimes too close to read
I believe that the best people tell the worst jokes
So you'll understand when I tell you that I only wear black ankle cut socks, gray if I'm feeling frisky
My best dream is finding someone to be alone with
My worst nightmare is that I never do
I was born a dozen days into 1996
Like being the last donut in the box and make no mistake I'm a sweet treat you'll have trouble working off
I guess what I'm saying is: my name is Braden
Will you remember that?
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC
“You may be declared the winner, Papa
—but you never beat the game”
(Grandson: Glastonbury Connecticut: November, 2021)
Dec 10, 2021
Dec 10, 2021 at 3:31 PM UTC