"brd" poems
De-winged and flightless
is the dragonfly
that tried to slip by
in my slipstream,
It found instead the pickup
traversing the alleyways
of my convoluted imagination.
I don’t know why I’m driving,
ever driving someplace
unrealized and unexplored.
I feel so disconnected,
I feel so disrespected by the world
sometimes
But that’s not fair
it has been good to me.
I feel so disconnected
sometimes
and yet it comes in times
when I’m most consumed
most surrounded.
Maybe I’m just tired
and the walls around me quiver only
from the struggles of my waking eyes,
Maybe I’m just bitter
that I can’t have the perfect life
and feel as if nothing could be better,
Maybe I’m affected
by this liquid life I’m draining from my cup
in hopes of finding a different day
at the bottom.
Is it jealousy that lingers in my mind
or mere longing tinged with a heavy
dose of confusion?
I am confused.
And yet I’m still alive
unlike my dragonfly
and so I stumble onward.
-BRD
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 4:03 PM UTC
Okay Brdies
Flap your wings and repeat after me:
I pledge to never leave a Brd behind:
♥ if you need a shoulder
♥ if you need an ear
♥ if you need to vent
♥ in times of fear
♥ if you need understanding
♥ if you need a friend
♥ if you think you need advice +
♥ if you're on the mend
♥ if there's any trouble
♥ if you're in a bind
♥ if you've gone all cuckoo and lost your mind
♥ if your soul needs healing
♥ if you're a moody mess ++
♥ if you need SHOPPING to heal your stress
♥ if you feel alone
♥ if you're out of sorts
♥ if you need a laugh we're all good sports
♥ if you have writer's block
♥ if you need distracting
♥ if you need a break we'll escape through crafting+++
Now we Brds are bound in honor
With a heart of a poet to guide our flights
Never again in isolation
The Flock is here with great delight :)
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 10:37 PM UTC
Teardrop
that
beauty
sits inside the
tears - sweat, sliding
down your skin - slowly
dripping down to fall where
memories lie awaiting - the smallest
ripple on a pond - a wave so subtly
starting - the faintest tingle whimpering
for its life’s exasperation - wants some simple
recognition, a tiny touch of reckoning - shed that
drop that comes to cause the wave’s unbridled
movement - be the pin’s undying call in a room
plush packed in silence - that saline drip on weathered
floors that saw this life worth making - gives this
road a worthy end, or bend since path’s are
wending - ride the bead that singing tells, the
ticking, tocking resilience - the glistening
few that beating drum - through shine,
with light, the spectrum.
- BRD
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 3:47 PM UTC
A thick mist twists about my childhood,
when it all seemed so much simpler.
Mammoth butterflies tickle
my imagination, I sit and wonder
at the minute grains of sand
cascading from my palms,
the naïve pleasure it once rendered.
These men are chasing dreams
on the backs of butterflies.
Soft driven airstrips blow away,
I have little expectation left to fly.
My mother used to tell me
I could do anything I wanted,
I would sign my name on the clouds
but I have no strength left to leave the ground,
time has left me reaching.
My sand has dwindled.
The butterflies have drifted away.
-BRD
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 8:05 PM UTC
Just because the rose beats our blood,
Why does the violet come second?
I’m sure the lizard loves it warmer
Cold. His heart flies in a square, blue box.
They should sacrifice blue ribbons in
Stead. Martyrdom looks clean, sans crimson,
Sans blood at all, then we’re murdering
Statues, already dead, beaten me-
Tal, standing without legs or organs.
Sheba, just part of the whole shebang,
You look so depleted, staunchly there,
Staunchly not, and somehow I wonder
Whether you’d like the b or the a
Better, or nursery rhymes at all.
-BRD
Mar 18, 2011
Mar 18, 2011 at 11:03 PM UTC
Start with:
Airway, Breathing, Circulation,
easy as ABC
they said.
Perhaps they meant
clear my throat,
slow my breathing,
check my pulse.
I could have used
the advice, but
there wasn’t time,
for him.
Perhaps, no.
His pleading eyes
will not fade in time,
and his sand soiled body’s
last electric leap
seems to hover
still longer
with each
repetition.
His blue lips
still murmur
words
to me
from the
water.
-BRD
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 3:37 PM UTC
I am just paper,
Space, ink, and words,
But you are a dewdrop
Dangling from her stem,
It looks different through you,
A refracted beam
A density of color unknown and indecipherable,
Like a dried leaf in the wind
Move me,
I am a wispy imitation,
Blown by you, Zephyr
Take me.
Tears all dried and salty
I am uninspired
But you are rain,
Pitter-patter and replenish.
Puddle-up and reservoir
I’ll need you.
A page above tonguing flame,
I curl and crumble,
Make myth of me,
Give me grace to rise
And ask the night for morning.
-BRD
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 3:09 PM UTC
At my feet are strewn the boxes,
filled and unfilled, waiting
for their cargo to be packed down,
the coarse rustle of newspaper
helps to drown the sounds
of my beleaguered thoughts.
These lingering thoughts
mate with memories in my boxes,
but soon the sounds
are filed away, and I’m waiting
for the next newspaper
to cover them, push them down.
Here it says a dog was put down
after running away from... my thoughts
are arguing again, the newspaper
tries me keep going with my boxes.
Don’t keep her waiting,
she gets like this, the huffing sounds,
her impatient, ruffled countenance sounds
an alarm, keep my head down,
but I can’t carry on waiting
for a place to settle my thoughts,
it’s nothing but boxes
for me, one for every newspaper.
Sometimes I feel like a newspaper,
scattered, and full of the sounds
and lives of many places, in long
rectangular boxes
on page two, continued on page four, no one point
to nail me down,
I’m lost until I find my own, thoughts
will get me nowhere, stop waiting.
But she’s been forever waiting
on me, I am her only news, paper-
less and live, her thoughts
are always with me.
In her every promise, the sounds
of beginnings and settling down,
traveling with me and my boxes.
Every newspaper-sheathed move, sounds
of uprooting, thoughts of stripping down,
she keeps it waiting in boxes.
-BRD
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 3:27 PM UTC
I.
The humdrum whitewashed wall of my balcony
overlooks almost everyone here,
but it’s yellowed in the slightly
past-the-season holiday lights
winking behind my back.
Rip them out, and yet
the still flaming cigarette butts alight
the charred pupils watching.
Never quite willed away.
II.
Today I saw a hairy upper-ankle poking
out from a tie-dye dress
and out-of-fashion Birkenstocks.
Adam leering through
the straightened golden curtains,
and I thought: woman? No.
You wouldn’t catch me out like that.
III.
The end of my mug’s looming
and only now am I confident
in passing personal judgment.
The last drops smile while they cling
resolutely to the inner-rim.
How they refuse to fall!
The sprightly demon climbing
the wet, ridged inner-walls
of my throat is parched,
strumming on my vocal chords,
and I’m singing,
obscenely.
IV.
You can’t come into my house
before I’ve cleaned it up,
flipped the cushions, hidden
all the plastic cups and washed
the clear ones to look like glass.
I’ve gotta Lysol, Clear-ox, and detox,
then I’ll let you in, maybe.
V.
My balcony knows too much about me.
-BRD
Copyright @2012 by Ben Davies
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 11:48 AM UTC
A wraith in Monday’s spoon,
I’m pale to start again,
Winter’s dark in day lit June,
I’m maimed by blackened game.
My skin so deeply grooved
With days of gritted muck,
I forget the face I wore in youth
On such temporal crutch.
With lonely else but waiting,
I’ve yet the time to count,
Eighty-eight in lines remaining,
As the bright of day, dims out.
-BRD
Mar 18, 2011
Mar 18, 2011 at 11:00 PM UTC
Incomprehensible blankness screams
at my feeble marks that tumble
clumsily onward, undaunted.
I feel as if my world was plunged
under a hundred waves,
And all I hear is the muffled roar
in the ocean’s unfaltering rhythm,
All I see is the bubbling gleam
of a million unattainable breaths,
I’m drowning.
I’m drowning in dark, engulfing haze,
The muddled thoughts of teenage
Days, spent wandering after acceptance.
There are times I float. unseen,
The narrowing ledge
atop my day that’s packed
in the distraction of
endless possibilities.
I hide on it.
I cannot discern the voices
that guide my fingers with their visions,
Perhaps I’m better off alone
the chasm in my head,
I hear only that rhythm, the beating, a cadence,
I write to it.
-BRD
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 3:25 PM UTC
Dear K,
I’m broken
With a half-empty toast rack and extra jelly,
Unground coffee beans and our unwashed dishes,
I woke to a cold pillow, but no amount of caffeine
Wakes your absence to my expectant lips.
I wandered down with the falling drops
From my tributary lashes,
Wondered why these pearls should dive
So much deeper than it seemed they might
When you said we’d be better off,
You’d be better off, alone.
I shook with clammy hands and nervous glances,
It should have been a sign of things to come,
Briefly entranced for brief romances.
With nothing to be clammy for, anymore,
I sit in the desert dry of unaccompanied rhythm,
Like these notes were begging to be written,
Written because I’ve no other river
Through which my thoughts meander so comfortably,
But stop, I know you’ve no desire to hear about
My breakfast, my day
I linger.
-BRD
Feb 2, 2011
Feb 2, 2011 at 11:20 PM UTC
In the darkness of night
Searching for that lost ship
That pulled into port without a sound
Searching sans lighthouse
In the reflection of a new moon
Every variation of wave
Sounding like the possibility of you
Worry and wonder and what ifs
And the demons, they laugh
For my heart knows
Though my head plays damaged films
On a shoddy projector
Everything is a possibility
Without a thought of a word
No notice
Not a crumb tossed to a bright little brd
No thoughts of a vacant soul
Long out of mind
Though never out of heart
Peaceful slumber
Feels like punishment
Feels like the possibility of spite
I don't know
Until i know
Even though I've always known
Spirits torn and taped in love
Have yet to set in glue
A broken mind skewed to darkness
Leaves another sleepless night
In the wake of the dawn
As the captain, comfortably in port,
Looks over the ocean
The starless sky a backend blue
Falling out in peaceful slumber
While tears fill the ocean
With thoughts of you
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 5:11 AM UTC
By Arcassin B. & Pretty Brd
AB: I was raised to not hurt a woman on any circumstances
Even asserting myself as dominant and setting boundaries for
The both of us,
It comes with trust,
PB: Unity draws lines together, in lieu of that, I'm left nonplussed
PB: For equal, we walk hand in hand Building a life with shards
of love and strands of hope Shaping a future,
we two,
together,
AB: aiming to see a couple like us fly , don't cut our feathers,
AB: whispering but not talking at all, only to your soul and
Your mind to a depth and an abyss of a broken past between us
Don't mean a thing,
PB: Echoes of the the mockingbird sing,
PB: Reflections of rubble forged into bricks A foundation
greater than the pieces of we On which the house of love was built,
AB: I've loved you since my great depression and when your time
Stood still.
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 2:20 PM UTC