"brotherly" poems
The full sea rolls and thunders
In glory and in glee.
O, bury me not in the senseless earth
But in the living sea!
Ay, bury me where it surges
A thousand miles from shore,
And in its brotherly unrest
I'll range for evermore.
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Airborne Muse #2: Once I wrote: (1)
if it cannot be said
in ten words, it cannot
(but now, older wiser, more intuitive)
I be~leave five is plentiful
and I'm still
working on
the three of:
thee and me
&
and one day,
I"ll get to maybe, and
reveal a bare skin
of brotherly love,
and speak of the
trinity of two;
but I'm open to your suggestions,
re that too:
note tho,
must be superior superlative than:
*above beyond
just merely
we two*
11/26/24
12:27pm
last updated
7:07am
9/28/25
Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 10:33 AM UTC
Kung walked
by the dynastic temple
and into the cedar grove,
and then out by the lower river,
And with him Khieu Tchi
and Tian the low speaking
And “we are unknown,” said Kung,
“You will take up charioteering?
“Then you will become known,
“Or perhaps I should take up charioterring, or archery?
“Or the practice of public speaking?”
And Tseu-lou said, “I would put the defences in order,”
And Khieu said, “If I were lord of a province
“I would put it in better order than this is.”
And Tchi said, “I would prefer a small mountain temple,
“With order in the observances,
with a suitable performance of the ritual,”
And Tian said, with his hand on the strings of his lute
The low sounds continuing
after his hand left the strings,
And the sound went up like smoke, under the leaves,
And he looked after the sound:
“The old swimming hole,
“And the boys flopping off the planks,
“Or sitting in the underbrush playing mandolins.”
And Kung smiled upon all of them equally.
And Thseng-sie desired to know:
“Which had answered correctly?”
And Kung said, “They have all answered correctly,
“That is to say, each in his nature.”
And Kung raised his cane against Yuan Jang,
Yuan Jang being his elder,
For Yuan Jang sat by the roadside pretending to
be receiving wisdom.
And Kung said
“You old fool, come out of it,
“Get up and do something useful.”
And Kung said
“Respect a child’s faculties
“From the moment it inhales the clear air,
“But a man of fifty who knows nothng
Is worthy of no respect.”
And “When the prince has gathered about him
“All the savants and artists, his riches will be fully employed.”
And Kung said, and wrote on the bo leaves:
If a man have not order within him
He can not spread order about him;
And if a man have not order within him
His family will not act with due order;
And if the prince have not order within him
He can not put order in his dominions.
And Kung gave the words “order”
and “brotherly deference”
And said nothing of the “life after death.”
And he said
“Anyone can run to excesses,
“It is easy to shoot past the mark,
“It is hard to stand firm in the middle.”
And they said: If a man commit ******
Should his father protect him, and hide him?
And Kung said:
He should hide him.
And Kung gave his daughter to Kong-Tchang
Although Kong-Tchang was in prison.
And he gave his niece to Nan-Young
although Nan-Young was out of office.
And Kung said “Wan ruled with moderation,
“In his day the State was well kept,
“And even I can remember
“A day when the historians left blanks in their writings,
“I mean, for things they didn’t know,
“But that time seems to be passing.
A day when the historians left blanks in their writings,
But that time seems to be passing.”
And Kung said, “Without character you will
“be unable to play on that instrument
“Or to execute the music fit for the Odes.
“The blossoms of the apricot
“blow from the east to the west,
“And I have tried to keep them from falling.”
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I went to turn the grass once after one
Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.
The dew was gone that made his blade so keen
Before I came to view the levelled scene.
I looked for him behind an isle of trees;
I listened for his whetstone on the breeze.
But he had gone his way, the grass all mown,
And I must be, as he had been,—alone,
‘As all must be,’ I said within my heart,
‘Whether they work together or apart.’
But as I said it, swift there passed me by
On noiseless wing a bewildered butterfly,
Seeking with memories grown dim over night
Some resting flower of yesterday’s delight.
And once I marked his flight go round and round,
As where some flower lay withering on the ground.
And then he flew as far as eye could see,
And then on tremulous wing came back to me.
I thought of questions that have no reply,
And would have turned to toss the grass to dry;
But he turned first, and led my eye to look
At a tall tuft of flowers beside a brook,
A leaping tongue of bloom the scythe had spared
Beside a reedy brook the scythe had bared.
I left my place to know them by their name,
Finding them butterfly-weed when I came.
The mower in the dew had loved them thus,
By leaving them to flourish, not for us,
Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him,
But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.
The butterfly and I had lit upon,
Nevertheless, a message from the dawn,
That made me hear the wakening birds around,
And hear his long scythe whispering to the ground,
And feel a spirit kindred to my own;
So that henceforth I worked no more alone;
But glad with him, I worked as with his aid,
And weary, sought at noon with him the shade;
And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech
With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.
‘Men work together,’ I told him from the heart,
‘Whether they work together or apart.’
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-on a leader's departure
He who has no heart, may fill the hole
with quick success and loud dreams;
but greatness and eternal joy
may be reserved for brotherhood.
Step down, step back now.
When you emerged,
a triumph over longtime racial neglect,
you confirmed:
we all are, we all can be brothers.
It's simply our choice.
Each one of us deserves respect,
each one deserves care,
just for the plain fact of being alive.
No plight, no suffering, no fear apply,
no merit whatsoever needs to be added.
As darkness closes in on us,
your fraternal reign stands out even more.
No, it cannot end this way;
move on, travel this world, but don't forget us;
encourage us, anyhow, anytime, with your brotherly advice.
Say "Hope", say "Hope again!"
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 8:30 AM UTC
Do you realize that races are overrated,
since God is no respecter of persons?
Colored perceptions of hatred and bigotry
may ultimately destroy our existence.
Who needs people that:
• Lack brotherly love and respect for others
• Lust for power, wealth and **********
• Lack vision and purpose
• Lack maturity and wisdom
• Have attitudes of superiority
• Are poor in spirit
• Lack discipline and self-control
Colored attitudes, regarding skin tones and hues,
pale in contrast to uncontrolled emotions.
Without responsibility and accountability,
people get themselves in trouble rather quickly.
Who really wants or needs:
• Red’s lustful, passion for someone other than your spouse?
• or Green’s destructional envy of others’ wealth or possessions?
• or Yellow’s fear, smelling of ***** from peeing ourselves?
• or White’s collection of powdered deaths?
• or Blue’s inner sadness or coldness towards others?
• or Brown’s poverty, shame and overall uncleanness?
• or Orange steadfastness for a Godless life?
• or Purple’s smugness from a self-conceived ideal of royalty?
• or Black’s foreboding sicknesses and death?
Our human collective needs to find real commonality,
within this brotherhood of man, as planetary stewards.
Under girded with a genuineness of concern and love,
true understanding can lead to harmonious relationships.
We all have the ability to commune with God’s Spirit;
however, we each must have a desire to do so.
Utopia may be unattainable, unlike… unity of community.
And yes, I forgive you, for thinking I might be racist.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Acts 10: 34; Gal 2: 6; Deut 10: 17; 1 Pet 1: 17
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http: //www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 7:42 AM UTC
WHISTLING AND SNIFFING SIMULTANEOUSLY
Whistling and sniffing at the same time
Can’t hold hands or rather get married
United and collaborative in any case
This duo may perhaps land into the life of some person
The kind of man whose who acts,
Performs duties of the shepherd on the flock.
Like his initial master,
He condemns wickedness,
Goes against what is religiously evil,
And exults the righteous.
But he soon he craves for another pair of his robe
For he does accumulate an avalanche of resources,
His eyes are soon blinded.
Would his robe evade being soiled?
Co-operative sniffing and whistling,
Can hatch into temptations to anybody,
Even the half-human, half God
Did he not get tested in the wilderness?
Our big man opens his eyes one day,
Finds himself campaigning and competing for,
Trying to woo for citizens’ keys,
Essentials for serving the people in a wider circle.
Perhaps his whistling guides his path.
Brings him in the companionship of
Other servants of the people.
Any devoted service present in that house really?
Brotherly whistling and sniffing,
May make one’s conscience slither backwards,
Two or more steps into mud.
He is now influential,
A famous societal figure.
His fat salary seconded with some allowances.
Or even thirded with public developmental resources,
Guarantees him total luxury.
Is this not an opportunistic opportunist?
Our Sniffer and whistler is contended,
Complacent with his success.
Jubilant with him servant is his ‘first Master ’
For keeping to the ‘sacred’ scriptures.
The vehicle which carried him straight,
One way to heaven gets crippled,
It can’t manage to hit the road
Like its American, British and Chinese counterparts,
His sincere promise goes unfulfilled
Unmet due to his pretentious pretence.
His ‘second’ Master gets extremely mad.
For loyalty and faithfulness denied.
And furiously plucks him from glory.
Simultaneous whistling and sniffing,
The ‘initial’ heaven can’t simply put up with them.
A wise servant of the masses
A true leader should only whistle at a time,
Sniff at a time.
But not sniffing and whistling simultaneously.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
Justin I forgive you, won’t you call me, your birthday must be coming soon we haven’t spoken since we moved our family into the desert. I just pray you’re not seeking cotton fever yet again, chasing the dragon, or at the very least eating school buses while falling into ‘H’ before you find yourself in bed drunk again, and on Ambien too. Dead too soon. You’ve always wondered why I didn’t introduce you to Ryan, my other incredibly dear and brotherly friend. Well wonder none more, he’s in a padded room at Mt. Sinai in Lakeview or perhaps Northwestern’s adult care unit, there was talk or at least I imagined he could make it to Lakeside Manor right there East of Foster. So it’s clemency, peace of mind, and something to loosen the edge off your back, something to let you fall, something to set your pain at weightless your mind at I-Don’t-Have-To-Give-A-Fuck-Anymore, my friend where have you been? Where have you taken yourself? Please drag yourself back at least a half-step, reverse your position and engineer an out please. I can’t begin to accept losing both of my brothers to two versions of the same disease.
Oct 20, 2019
Oct 20, 2019 at 1:10 AM UTC
Thee lust of commandments
The same blood
You have my eyes and I have your nose
Hidden love wrapped in poetry and midnight pecks of love
I am your safety blanket
I am your lover
Once our lips caress the other
Our blood completes us and binds our dna in an entanglement of lust and secrets.
We are infinite in this moment
The moment of being alive
Alive in this universe
Together we shall not be parted again
Hand in hand
Same blood
By God we shall be punished with the wrath of society
A taboo of unholy nature
Brotherly love
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 5:20 PM UTC
Between the brothers, sad tale,
Sibling rivalry did not fail,
Their fractured world of damaged hearts,
Only death could tear them apart,
Quite symbiotic and sick,
Both obsessed with their own blip,
Yes, it was a sad brotherly tale,
Their sibling rivalry never failed......
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 10:45 PM UTC
Wearing comfortable clothing is what I desire
And if that is a purple g-string with a pair of high rise low cut shorts
You best say "good morning"
And if that is a pair of bell bottom jeans that do not press tight
against my hips with a long sleeve pink sweater
You ought to say “good afternoon”
If I please sugar in my coffee or no
coffee but instead a warm swif of chamomile
tea you best hand me the cup and show
brotherly love to your sister
If in my womb a child grows or I decide
It does not grow
You ought to stand by me but you best
leave that choice to me
Dec 29, 2021
Dec 29, 2021 at 9:34 AM UTC
An easy lazy length of limb,
Dark eyes and features from the south,
A short-legged meditative pipe
Set in a supercilious mouth:
Ink and a pen and papers laid
Down on a table for the night,
Beside a semi-dozing man
Who wakes to go to bed by light.
A pair of brothers brotherly,
Unlike and yet how much the same
In heart and high-toned intellect,
In face and bearing, hope and aim:
Friends of the selfsame treasured friends
And of one home the dear delight,
Beloved of many a loving heart
And cherished both in mine, good night.
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Take my life,
Take my everything.
Strip me of my rights.
But give me one thing.
Give me a paradise!
A paradise of brotherhood,
and sisterhood.
A paradise where violence does not exist,
a paradise where nobody commits a crime,
a paradise where people are not afraid to openly confess their sins.
Give me a hope.
A hope that at the end of all these troubles,
there will be peace, love, and humbleness.
Where Greed is no more.
Where men do not need guns.
Give me a city.
Give me a city,
where doors and locks are no more.
Open seats at dinner tables for brothers to join.
A quiet city,
where children run in happiness,
where a new generation lives happily,
where the old generation smiles.
A beautiful city,
where evil is no more,
Give Me Paradise.
Land of abundance.
Land of peace.
Land of brotherly and sisterly love.
Give me a land,
a land where people different by culture,
different by background,
different by skin,
different by family,
can unite as one.
Give me a land where there is no sin.
Give Me Paradise!
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 9:31 PM UTC
One hundred and something beats per minute,
A happy tune to keep me
with it
As I stare out of the bus window
In-ear phones cancelling out,
The ambient sounds
Of busy Cambridge City
Always enjoying the diversity
Finally seeing the love
On Victoria avenue,
I saw two little girls
Sat on a tree branch together
Dangling as it flexed,
Over Jesus green
Probably siblings
Maybe even friends
I felt their feelings
Even on this crowded journey
I long for forms of childhood
Carelessness and joy
I long for companionship
Brotherly and sisterly love
I long for happiness
Smiles and sunshine forever
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 12:03 PM UTC
*Hush little Sammy, don't say a word,
Momma's still watching even after she burned.
And I know Daddy seems real mad,
but since mommas been gone he's been real real sad.
And I know you wanted to marry that girl,
but she's with mommy and that must hurt.
And big brother Dean keeps selling his soul,
then daddy dies and you lose control.
And you meet an Angel of the Lord named Cas,
and he keeps bringing your brother Dean back.
And now Dean's hurting everyone,
and The Mark of Cain rests on the righteous son.
But though brotherly love transcends any curse,
The darkness has come to destroy our earth.
But its ok Sammy cause mommas still here,
and I know you two can fight this so dont you fear*.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 6:43 PM UTC
clay-baked women beat their clothes
clean on river rocks at dawn
cook rice and dal on an open
communal hearth
beneath a natural lantern
of Indian stars
for 20 rupees a day, roughly
half a buck
I have seen men and women tie
rags to cushion their heads
towing heavy mortar
for new construction
yet there is always a
brotherly smile gleaming
and sisterly hands eager to share
what meager provisions earned
these are no feeble folk
no fashion slaves or mere mortals
melodious bhajans mingle with
the sweat from their brows
and mantras, leelas of God
echo through the
Taj Mahal temples of their hearts
I raise my bhakti glass to the
backbone of India
Her kundalini rising
innocent, humble
village peasantry
true priests
gopikas and gopalas
who actually live
the Vedic life
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 9:16 PM UTC
Two aging message senders
and receivers, circumspect
men of reflective thoughts
and words spoken, written.
Wayfarers from divergent
oceans converging.
Both Harpooners of the
unexamined life, seekers
of truths and wisdom.
Kindred spirits different
and yet the same,
A spiritual awakening,
a brotherly bond in the making.
Both touched and renewed
by a voyage taken
upon a common sea
of curious self discovery.
Jun 16, 2018
Jun 16, 2018 at 8:02 PM UTC
My angel always by my side
You have shown me how to be
Respectful,
Helpful,
Truthful
Through my childhood days,
He would tell me stories
When I was down, tears would fall
Upon that sorrowful day tears came around,
My parents would see me
Hugging,
Silent,
Tears
Flowed always out of view,
My angel would wipe away
The sorrow, turning tears
In to snow flakes that floated slowly around
Me
&
You
I could see your outline where the snow flakes fell,
I would stick out my tongue to try & catch a few.
My parents catching a view
"If you keep that funny face it will stick"
Everybody laughed,
I played
Hide
&
Seek,
My brotherly angel would be sneaky
I though I had found him giggling
but he could walk through walls,
"My brother"
"My angel"
"My hero"
You were there for me in life,
And now your my guardian angel
I miss you,
Mum
&
Dad
Miss you now that your gone,
"But your still here"
My invisible friend, My brotherly angel
Always here when needed, I so happy your still in my life.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
To all those that were reading my last piece,'Split personality' I had to take it down sadly after it had trended to a hundred reads in 3 hrs. But I wrote quickly and used the word 'cohabit' without realizing what it implied... you throw that in with 'brotherly loyalty' and the whole piece just reads a lot gay... now, I'm not hating on gay people... I just don't swing that way, wouldn't want my poems to give off the wrong impression... all said and done... I have just had a good laugh at my own expense hahahahaha
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 10:59 AM UTC
sea, soft slumbering
its ghosts green nettles
once woven into shirts,
princess with fingers
badly stung
for love you sew
nettle to poison nettle
bearing the pain
for brotherly love
and as the nettle shirts
are thrown over their
backs, they become
human once more
and the bonfire to burn you
becomes soft flowers,
under a wintery sky that was once
a flock of wild swans.
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 12:35 PM UTC
How cool I was with undercut
pretending then Mohawk
playing rugby pretending
brunching with fab hipsters
pretending enjoying arcane debates
about particle physics pretending
and social justice pretending
loving tall beautiful black boy
pretending and playing Tetris til dawn
or napping on the couch pretending
in fashionable Old City coworking
space pretending cuddled alone
as rain struck clear panes windowed walls
facade pretending that was my life once,
author in a zine pretending, cheese day denizen
pretending amid all that a sprawling
vacuum of identity pretending
and isolation pretending despite
lunching with a priest I met
pretending online or long, meandering
walks to the park pretending
with Mr. Wiggles and biking up
Passyunk pretending through the market
that smelled of live chickens and grease
bemoaning my loneliness pretending at
row-house holiday parties hosted
by midlife fairies & queers pretending
with dreams with drugs
pretending alcohol *** and roof deck
skyline views pretending pop up gardens
live music filling midsummer streets
pretending same streets
filled with seasonal dirt
artisanal water pretending
bottle cap eyes cigarette **** nose
garbage mouth snowman melting
away pretending going
the way of brotherly
love. How cool I was inhabiting
my urban life pretending
I was there.
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 6:16 AM UTC
~~~
Happy Hanukkah Brother Nat!
~~~
*this poem is not for young lovers,
seasoned soldiers of the heartfelt only need apply,
give me my merry mercy-naries to save me
from criminal holiday insouciance,
shoot me with the rounds of caring,
that come so fast
and last as long as I can
nod and wink...*
~~~
used to drink inspiration
from Manhattan sidewalk rain riveted cracks,
turn half overheard street conversation snatches
into half decent poems by Nat(chez),
professors turning phrases, upbringing a brain ratcheting,
choreographers, dancing in body and spirit and word,
in summation, a thief of opportunity...
these days, the pattern prevailing,
the El Niño de Natalino,
is drawing up works
from the wealth of messages and comments,
my troubadours, my y'all youse guys, share,
so as I compose,
not knowing where this goes,
I'm just simple knowing,
that a heartfelt reach out,
addressed as
Happy Hanukkah Brother Nat!
deserves the recognition of its sweet intent,
in a lyric all its own,
like a traditional festival
Hanukkah jelly donut (true1)
t'is the seasonal affectation of salutations
all commencing with happy,
never struck me as anything deeper
than surficial superficial,
but this time its textual emendation -
the inclusion of genuine brotherly love,
loops, Humpty Dumpty cracks and swoops,
and here I am fastening word combos,
when the clickty clack of the clock
says uh-uh, poem in the making,
natural verbal child birthing, sleep hours docked,
and here I am,
begetting instead of shushing
a day-older brain to get-thee-to-a-hideaway...
*this poem is not for young lovers,
seasoned soldiers of the heartfelt only need apply,
give me my mercy-naries to save me
from criminal holiday insouciance,
shoot me with the rounds of caring,
that come so fast
and last as long as I can
nod and wink...*
sooner than later it will be the Fourth,
and in my eyes a day-deserving of a fireworks spectacular,
though the month matters not,
the sentiments of brotherhood and live love,
independent and freely given,
deserves enhanced ignition recognition
and herein supplied...
you had me at the greeting so fleeting,
then ask my advice,
is there to be had a greater compliment,
so my mien and demeanor are now modified
an oath sworn, till the infamous 31st,
every passerby and child
will be bequeathed a shockingly rowdy,
Happy and Merry,
sincerity coated
and tinged with you know what...
~~~
Dec. 3, 2015
nyc
11:12 pm
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
my only dream now
to return to the old preppy garments
and the boisterous hallway
with friendly arms around my neck
breathing the whiff of boisterous energy
to feel the brotherly armor
the friendly kiss of peace
the high jinks
the giggling and throaty beats of husky youths
the naive maturity of free thinkers
filled with optimistic hopes...
Save! what a misery it is to know
to know that my juvenile years
can never return to me.
I pity thyself.
Oh how quickly time fades!
but memos forever remain.
I was only an invisible spectator.
Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 2:11 PM UTC
We met three times
Over fifteen years.
The disagreement paled
In light of his diagnosis.
He unexpectedly appeared
At my door, then stood in my kitchen.
He had a few serious questions
About brotherly affections,
And after spitting into my sink
(the poor man)
He wondered if I thought less of him
For not sending cards at Christmas and birthdays.
Is that what he came to say?
Next was at our last family wedding.
He was still steady on his feet.
We were five Irish lads.
The sisters said he was the handsome one.
He was.
There are six of us posing in this final shot.
He's wearing a Lucille Ball tie,
Losened around his neck,
Yet covering the gill-like scar
Running from lobe to lobe.
His hands are buried deep
In his pants' pockets.
His smile says Good-bye.
I saw him for the last time
A few weeks later,
Standing, bent and coughing
At the intersedtion of the roadway and Nature Trail.
His rib cage raging from contortions.
He waved off an offered ride.
And then he was gone.
It took us years to get here.
Nov 8, 2024
Nov 8, 2024 at 9:47 AM UTC
Your voice is something that has me in a trance.
I'm the snake in the basket .....now watch me dance.
It's been said that music calms the savage beast....well the sound of your voice provides me with a inner peace.
The day has been hectic .....people with mean faces and gripes.
This is supposed to be The City of Brotherly Love.....but some are not so polite.
It seems everyone becomes a little bit nicer .....once day turns to night.
The alcohol starts flowing and the girls are looking right. The guys are in a huddle like a pack of wolves....admiring a female who is modeling her curves in a selection that's tight.
The music is blaring from the speakers and girls are dancing with each other. A brother attempts to dance with one and leaves the floor with her crew ......she said "We are not dancing anymore....we we were just having fun."
It's a long walk back to the bar....it feels like slow motion. You replay the interaction several times like a referee under the hood... but this call won't be reversed.....a few more drinks and your heart is coasting......now you are a tad bit enibriated from too much toasting.
Inappropriate comments on Twitter and Facebook......but you continue posting.
When I end the night ....I come home to you. You make my day worth living. Before I go to sleep can you sing to me?
The day was tough...my friend embarrassed themselves....it was so bad I really wanted to yell.
I just took sometime and remembered your voice .....the words turned into musical notes as they left your lips. I'm no longer present.....my mind is taking trips....I don't reside in one.....I have many different zips.
So before you ever decide to quit....Can you please .....sing for me?
The beast that resides inside....told me to ask you.
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 4:49 PM UTC