"brenda" poems
Yo Terry, you gone loco?
talking to yourself all the time now
oh, yeah?
is that a blue tooth or a blue ear?
is it surgically attached?
do you wear it to bed?
take it with you into the shower?
Man, you would never be so crazy
it can’t be you
it’s got to be your cell phone clone
hey lady, can you see that green arrow
it won’t last forever
what’s up…honk, honk
you’re on the phone?
we’re gonna to miss the left …turn
honey, you must be blind
how’d you get your license?
is that Lynne?
**** girl
it can’t be you
got to be your cell phone clone
A. K., another call?
and we’re supposed to be having a conversation
kickin’ it
now you’re text messaging under the table
and you think I don’t notice?
Dude, I’m not that stupid
and you, my brother, would never be that rude to me
it can’t be you
got to be your cell phone clone
yo Brenda, who you talking to out there?
oh…(whispered) cell phone clone
Leon, dude!
How many cell phones you need?
You’re talking on the one you got pressed onto your ear
There’s another on the table in front of you
Do you have one more?
You could be a juggler
Join the circus
Girlfriend, don’t you realize the light has changed
and you’re standing in the crosswalk in the middle of the street?
hang up the phone and step—yeah, you
Jeez...I…I see cell phone clones
They’re everywhere
Apr 10, 2010
Apr 10, 2010 at 1:05 PM UTC
Lost underneath the hood
she made sure
he stopped to ask for directions
then with map in hand
and strapped to the seismograph
she tremored into the land
of eternal sunshine
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 6:37 AM UTC
Abbie hailed a yellow top cabbie
Brenda had a sister in-law named Glenda
Cate ran late on her first date
Delly ate seven bowls of lemon jelly
Edwina drove to the town of Catalina
Fran burnt her finger on the very hot frying pan
Gwen had a strong yen to go and see her aunty Jen
Hope bought her husband a towing rope
Isobel fell under the magician's spell
Joann took her mother on a holiday in a caravan
Kylie went to the dentist with her brother Wylie
Lesley liked listening to Elvis Presley
Marcia enjoyed eating a freshly baked focaccia
Nell saw a turtle coming out of his shell
Olga lived at the top end of the river Volga
Primrose had a Pinocchio nose
Queenie knitted a multicolored beanie
Ruth could never tell the whole truth
Stacey loved playing dress ups with her friend Tracey
Tilly behavior was always rather silly
Una bought a house in the suburb of Yagonna
Verity wanted to be a well known celebrity
Winifred never stopped taking about Alfred
Xena was presented with a court subpoena
Yale told her teacher a tall tale
Zealand ventured out into the bushland
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 8:30 AM UTC
It was all the rage
in the food industry
or so they implied
It was easier to
go down the bakery aisle
or so they justified
It was how so many men
preferred to see dessert
or so they specified
But to her way of thinking
it just never looked right
no matter how she tried
Apr 1, 2021
Apr 1, 2021 at 2:09 PM UTC
Sometimes in April
When the rain pours
And makes mud of the earth.
I think of Brenda Fassie’s “Too Late For Mama”
Lingering on my sister’s vibrato
An attempt to forget that,
Once again,
A family member had lent us their back.
My three sisters and I huddled,
Under the night sky,
Singing.
A mild prayer to keep us from shivering.
A ‘let us find the mercy of a couch”
But it rained hard.
We used our limbs as umbrellas.
Laughed loud and sloppily
To hide our shame
Sometimes in April.
I think about the wet ground
How it felt against our feet.
How poverty turned into homeless.
Into needy.
Into “don’t cry, we’ll be okay soon”
Into my mother being a beggar
And us, just open mouths.
Wrestling with the pitiless relatives
Who call us out of our shared last names.
Sometimes
I think
Haven’t we lost enough
Haven’t we known an empty hand
Haven’t we despaired enough.
No shelter to speak of
Just a song to keep us warm
And the rain does not care. (Neither do the people)
It comes.
In April.
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 5:38 PM UTC
Thank you Shaun,
for the pictures and flowers.
Thank you Lily,
for the ray of sunlight.
Thank you Bry,
for psychopathic measure.
Thank you D,
for the feeling of good pleasure.
Thank you Tay,
for tea and bears.
Thank you Meg,
for Sherlock and apples.
Thank you Zee,
for robots and twins.
Thank you Carrie,
for fangirling and friendship.
Thank you Liam,
for support and superheroes.
Thank you Paul,
for understanding and ingenious.
Thank you Ceryen,
for fake names and shared tears.
Thank you Chiara,
for Italian cheese and fanfics.
Thank you Rod,
for fish and evil.
Thank you Lia,
for kitties and souls.
Thank you Stephen,
for gravestones and vegetables.
Thank you Christine,
for mercurial and poetical love.
Thank you Caitlin,
for product design and Poundland.
Thank you Jordan,
for weddings and Brenda.
Thank you Conaill,
for DT and Courbet.
Thank you Brendan,
for axes and aunts.
Thank you Tom,
for form time and Brittany.
Thank you George,
for philosophies and pigeons.
Thank you Morgan,
for video games and hearing.
Thank you Alice,
for Pokemon and tumblr.
Thank you Aliyah,
for hearing aids and help.
Thank you all,
for reading and listening.
Thank you, me,
for absolutely nothing.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
i have cake here, tony made it me,
last year he made a wooden glove box, as my red x one overflowed, the year before a tiny clothes hanger.
only yesterday i hung the knitted clothes i bought in pickering, no room for the pants, i pinned them to the wall. he is brenda’s husband.
she likes victoria sponge,
too.
sbm.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
Hey kid, I woke up buzzing, here
In the future ruins of ancient America.
Staring, after the imperial sunrise,
Listening to Los Angeles on repeat.
Insistent and purple, only
Sediment left in the
Bottles of night.
This third-world way
Causes Third World War
So I'm drinking at a
Tavern on the End.
The bus goes by, and
"Baseball's the worst sport."
Alliteration, allusion,
Colors, characters,
And metaphors.
Sobriety sending me
Searching for smoke.
Rehash, re-up, and "read the ****** thing." My world-view,
Out-maneuvering your
Upbringing.
(The memories I have are white and yellow.
Fogged, not angry, if even confused.
You'd call me, after finishing your nightly readings, to cry about the characters you'd loved, and castigate my inability to care.
Remember when you used "undermined" to describe the adaptation?
You meant that it was "assuming too much.")
"Brenda and Eddie," over here,
"Couldn't go back to the greasers" so they
Wound up at your family's tavern.
"You look like the fat kid,
On whom the popular girl was
Forced to settle."
Dear Man,
Woman's found you out. Or
Are we, justly, doomed to be
More juvenile?
Worn sole, soul-open, "so long,
Kid, I don't know you, but,
I can't help myself from
Destroying you."
(My upbringing: out-maneuvering
Your world-view.)
"You've always been the caretaker, Flagstaff."
The bait's in your brain.
You've simply been
Overlooking the barkeep.
(Dear Diary, could I just die already?
The Price is Life, and purgatory's a game show.
Anger, the color of your mother.
Skin, the shade of yard-work.
Staring at road maps of Virginia, stoic.
Trying to divine the diners we'd die in.)
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
freckled cheeks / soft decibels
dress wearing
wine taster
dreamcatching
manhunter
an attraction
to green and yellow
an aversion to blue
an imprint of her muted form
under a name that hides her
she often lies there
in a shimmer
a bit of a sleeping beauty
in the pleasing shape
of Wisconsin / Illinois
whose charms
are revealed
like arcane secrets
only to those
with patience,
persistence,
and a lack of proximity
to heavy machinery
Oct 25, 2022
Oct 25, 2022 at 1:32 PM UTC
I watch the harbor through the falling snow
the sky and sea form one vast, gray tableau
the sun is nothing but a weak, background glow
the scene draws me, as if hypnotically.
Five mile’s lighthouse warnings go unvoiced
its strobes not lashing out, so what’s its point
it stands majestically but disappoints
replaced electronically
A tiny lobster boat makes its landward way
towards the inlet from the wider channel bay
a powdery blizzard is underway
which melts into the mirror sea.
Ospreys still hunt round the lobsterman's pride
snowflakes stain them as they soar and glide
other seabirds huddle side by side
shivering and crowing lividly.
Through the narrows the lonely boat steams
past icy Luddington Rock and East Breakwater's breech
its berths and moorings, within minutes reach
and sadly, it’s time for me to leave.
.
.
Songs for this:
Far Far Away (Charles Tone Mix) [feat. Brenda Boykin] by Tape Five
Nobody by Mitski
Feb 15, 2025
Feb 15, 2025 at 1:42 PM UTC
I wish I had flowers and gifts for you
A whole room full that was well arranged
But if you think that I've forgotten you
That thought is quite insane!
I may not have much money,
and all my credit cards are dead
You're partial to gifts of labor(not paid for with paper)
So I wrote you this instead:
If you could see inside myself,
My heart, My head, My soul
You would see the fear I have of you
of a burning love that's beyond my control.
If you could only hear my thoughts,
Morning,
night
and day
You'd see how much I love you,
no one on Earth could lead me astray!
For earth alone does not bound my love, if there're chicks on planets far beyond
You have no need to worry- I still would not Respond!
Even if they were hot and green, just like that Star Trek show,
And if they tried to correspond, my answer would still be "No"!
"Pack it in you skank-ass hoes," is what I would decree
"None of you even have a chance, Brenda's the only one for me!"
As we walked away, we would laugh and say,
(And I think you will agree)
"They gave Captain Kirk a mess of herps'
and Spock got Hepatitis B!"
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 3:01 PM UTC
I refuse to show political respect,the news flows from my precinct connect,weed soon glows from TGC inject,contaminate the food ,the ***** they win ,we lose,who's gone choose yet none will re-fuse to combat the dudes that brought death to baby food,murders with no clues.genocide someone sing my blues,Brenda had a baby now she's opened a school for delinquent youth..who's making all the rules caking on you fools baking that good,its whats breaking on the news..I take weight but the rope cant hold the stake shaking at the knees while I'm hanging by the noose.oblivion and beyond finally i feel loved, death is so warm ,humanity is a storm though endless the abyss is a calm..future read it in a palm.branches in arms..puddles of blood flies in a swarm,fly away to the lord to whom you belong..children of the corn..caught up in a whirlwind,drenched by the storm ,they wont stop until were gone they wont stop until their done the human race is dead and their world wars won!
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 3:56 PM UTC
I used to listen to Winehouse in the greenhouse and the windows cried in pain.
I had Gillespie in the conservatory and Kitt in the kitchen, but I saved Brenda Lee for the bedroom see 'cause she was the queen.
I had them all running recordings in my head, Dave Dee, Fats Domino, Bono, Callas for a touch of class, Des and Bygraves, slaves to the sound spinning around in my mind and now I can't find a song that's familiar, can't make out the words, don't know the artists, missed out along the tracks, no vinyls, no needles, no tables just racks of CD's
oh please tell me it isn't so
this can't be the way to go,
where's Slim and Kim and Marty gonna go now that the party is over?
In the greenhouse where I listened to Winehouse and watched the pickup pick up the beat,
I take a back seat and eat a tomato while nothing else is going on.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC
I’ve searched the stars
To find the perfect time
To touch you with words
Here and now is prime
I’ve searched my mind
To find the perfect state
I’ve been completely in a fog,
Now clearing, I know my fate
I’ve searched the web
Scrolled through countless pages
Reading other poets writes
To get inspiration from the ages
I’ve searched my heart
It now beats with excitement
Having you in my life
Is my new assignment
I wish to capture the power
That’s only perceived by touch
And put it into words
That ignite emotions as such
Simply
Absolutely
“YOU ARE LOVED”
_________________________________
Michelle Milford
20 December 2016
To Brenda Chuleewah
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 11:20 AM UTC
Drea De Mattea
Kathy Matea
See they're both in entertainment
Michael Jordan
Morton Downey
Get it both of their opinions are respected
Seymour Gross the decadent businessman with his two sons -
Greg and Seymour, Jr. Get it - Seymour
Someone put of Mad Magazine's Greg
and Ex-Chicago Cubs player- (He got famous at it.)
decadence, I mean, and Junior Gross -
We're all getting really tired of real decadent types
like his father and Greg. - I'm just being facetious about
the bloodline connection. What, are they both adopted and just
copies of it?
And Seymour's morals are especially refreshing
compared to his faults.
Loretta Lynn
Brenda Lee
Two gifted singers
Eisenhower and MacArthur
2 great West painters
etc., etc.,
You get the picture.
Mar 16, 2017
Mar 16, 2017 at 3:41 PM UTC
Brenda'lee, Brenda'lee,
no i can't chase you girl.
Brenda'lee, Brenda'lee,
you're just too fast for me.
200 miles to see you i come
and you won't get outta bed,
make me mad and then some,
now what has got into your head.
Sometimes you're so lovey dovey girl,
you make my head spin,
then you go and freeze me out,
seems sometimes, i can never win.
Now, Brenda'lee, we've known each other
for so many years,
why not get a little closer
instead of giving me the gears.
If there ain't no change in the weather, darlin',
i'm going to have to give you up.
I should have known better baby,
next time i'll have better luck.
© 2013
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
Penny, Kaiser Permanente
Diana, Blue Shield
Brenda, UnitedHealthcare
But no longer Karen,
She's now unemployed
Feb 2, 2020
Feb 2, 2020 at 10:28 PM UTC
Don't judge me when you look at me,
There's more to me than what you see.
I am a person just like you,
And yes I have feelings too.
People only see what they choose to see,
Never trying to see the real me.
I know that when they look at me,
they see the person I used to be.
Try to look beyond my face,
Perhaps put yourself in my place.
Please try to look inside of me,
At the person I'm struggling to be.
You won't see the person you think you see,
I'm nothing like you think I'd be.
So don't judge me when you look at me,
There's more to me than what you see.
WRITTEN BY: BRENDA F. MATHIES
JANUARY 1, 2008
Apr 26, 2012
Apr 26, 2012 at 5:35 AM UTC
Custom, tradition, and the twang of steel guitars
Strongly suggest I should embrace my station
As the woman done wrong,
Weeping quietly in some dark corner
At the Come On Inn,
Or, even better yet,
Wailing in a full, tear-stained voice.
Know this; I will not Patsy Cline for you,
Any man or moral of the story,
Nor will I indulge myself
In some country-crossover measure of revenge.
I will march into that bar,
And play that song for whoever on the jukebox,
Dancing without a trace of regret or malice
And I will leave that old roadhouse
In the same manner I will live
The rest of my days here on earth;
Head high, chin forward, shoulders straight
Alone or accompanied
As I—and I alone—see fit.
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 9:45 AM UTC
Do I want to reach out
To you tonight?
Or is it just the Billy Joel
Urging me to connect?
To stretch my hand
Into the night
I am not helped by
The encircling melodies
Of our beautiful memories
I must be in a
New York State of Mind
Because I am reminded
Of the way you told me
You've never visited
And I planned to take you
For you to feel the energy of the streets
That the song mirrors
And I recall how we danced
In the dimly lit street
To Piano Man
While the sound echoed
From the speakers of your car
Oh, and the way I played
She's Always a Woman
At my piano recital
While you knew the notes
I would play before they
Spilled out of my finger tips
I flash back
To our first Valentine's Day
Our own Scenes From an Italian Restaurant
Gnocchi topped with red sauce
Red ties and candlelight
Swing dancing to the saxophones
Sitting on a crescent moon
Sharing a kiss next to stars
But somehow I worried
That we would turn into
Brenda and Eddy
After the piano solo
I never could live that kind of life
And when we fought
I took a trip to Vienna
Where I was reminded
That I am just a crazy child
Who is only afraid of hurting you
But I realized that I needed
To get what I wanted
Before I got too old
And I knew, hidden in the lyrics
That I needed to leave
For my own sake
I couldn't compromise
My own happiness
But despite it all
I don't know if I can
Ever hear his soothing voice
Without thinking of
Your hands on my hips
Your kiss on my lips
Or your love in my life
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 11:01 PM UTC
My sister Julie, aged only six;
She asked me,
'Why do these adults run for work?
Why do they not give us time?
Why do they think of making money?
Are they growing a money tree?'
Was shocked, I;
Even I was left alone like this.
But my best friend Brenda,
a fair doll,
made me believe she was my world.
Julie's innocent eyes looked into mine,
I didn't know what to say!
For even I had felt the same way,
no family, no friends.
I couldn't tell my parents a no,
for they were spending the money,
on us.
But even I,
like Julie,
looked so lonely,
because even I felt like her once.
She poked my arm,said,I,
"Why can't they give us time?",
I looked into her innocent eyes, and said,
"Because they care for us a lot,
and this isn't a lonely time..."...
If you use the Android application Poet's Corner, do read me there. Love :-)
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 10:26 AM UTC
But if I soared into your fence I'd be electrocuted in an instant.
Nevermind the environmentalists several miles off in the distance.
They can't save me.
They've got their own sinister agendas.
In some way we can trace all the blame back to Brenda.
That *****
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 8:32 PM UTC
I opened up today
with cereal coated
in sun's rays
I ate every last flake
And got sunburned
Now my tummy shakes
I asked Brenda Sue
If I could kiss her lips
"What ! You certainly can no do "
Then it began to rain
I had no umbrella
Was my refrain
Quick give me your coat
and she put it on her head
Like a boat
Then we ran in the drench
Comming down big drops
That soaked me hence
We made safety
Behind the store
She so dry reliably
Handed me my dripping coat
Then kissed on my cheek
Left handing me a note
Next time on the lips
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 12:19 PM UTC
There’re so many sad love poems around here.
If you guys need help negotiating love’s slippery slope,
let me offer you, your own, romantic horoscope!:
*Don’t court romantic disaster
don’t mistake a lightbulb for the moon
Titanic wasn't a rom com
and a sad update:
Grand romantic gestures don’t happen anymore,
you're lucky to get a vibration in our pocket with a "sorry" text*
I know what you're thinking though, “We didn’t know the moon was useless until we landed on it,” but once you’ve ‘landed’ on a guy (or girl), once or twice, it’s too late—you’re likely ‘in it.’
Big picture-wise, I think we all have Shakespeare to thank for unrealistic, romantic storylines. Romeo & Juliet are the perfect example—they meet, fall in love and marry the very next day.
In Shakespeare’s defense though, love in his world-building was always messy and imperfect, and there were few "happily ever after" narratives. (The exception being Beatrice and Benedick, in ‘Much Ado About Nothing’).
In a side note, my weekly horoscope (Libra) for the Thanksgiving holiday reads:
“You’ve become so self-centered, It’s all about you. What about your family? Before you go emo and angry, change your perspective—own it—strive to improve relationships.”
Sarsh (so harsh), in this writer’s opinion.
.
.
(Songs for this):
Love Is In Town by Brenda Boykin
Do You Even Know? by Rae Morris**
Nov 23, 2024
Nov 23, 2024 at 11:40 AM UTC
On the second floor
of a department store
At the DMV
appointment window
In the kissing booth
on Coney Island
Anywhere around
her pineapple grove
Apr 22, 2020
Apr 22, 2020 at 4:59 PM UTC