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Best Poems Written by Brian Martin

Below are the all-time best Brian Martin poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Redline

My room at the Hyatt 
Smelled like my ex-wife
She didn't have oodles of class
Or wasn't overly fancy
So, it must be that aroma of 
Almost masking what had
Taken place the night before
We greeted each other with
A welcoming suspicion 
The bathroom lighting flawless 
Standing in the mirror with
Perfect tan and bright white A
T-shirt
Khaki slacks pulled high and
Wise guy hair cut
I wonder if Capone ever went to see
The Cubbies play
Beautiful sunny day, not too warm
Plenty of room on the mezzanine
At Wrigley 
A pleasantly safe distance from the
Big middle aged guys with
Some other man's name on their back ' s
Exhaling brat breath
And beer farts 
the Windy City loves their team

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Phonetic

Frigid hard worked
Hands
Shoulders
Goose pimpled cold
Give me texture

Steely seldom blinked
Poker eyes
Wrinkled straight mouth
Smile
Give me chills

Voiceless response
Touch
Less embrace
Romantic impressionism
Give me love

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Howling Mad

The beard line came within a 1/4" from a field of chest hair and called a truce on this wild mop headed man-child who spoke with such decibel excitement his voice waned from totally cracking up to a young southern officer's bass drawl.  Demandingly adolescent it was, but more experienced than mine.  He paced back and forth on wooden planked floors in the only lit room of his family's farm house.  Surely no one was sleeping.  It was as if I was the very first guest.  It was quite uncomfortable.  He was pushy like a realtor showing you your 13th house in a month, so desperate for you to fall in love with it.
  "What do you think of these drawings?"  inquiring innocently.  They were sad.  They were frightening, but artistically wonderful and marvelous.
  "You did these.... WOW! This is great Bobby!"  I exclaimed.  I thought for a split second he would yell out CAPTAIN CAVE MAN!!! and go crashing through the window, then I remembered earlier in the day he showed me his Salman Rushdie book and I started feeling scared as hell.  This guy might have brought me here to kill me.  He wasn't intimidating or a bully, not very powerful or athletic, but totally energetic and manic.  He could do it.  I knew he could, but I would have to be asleep.  This would be a sleepless night.

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Petchicor

Acclimating to the tranquil jaunt
of a cool morning cascade
shouldered brightly by
reds and oranges of a quiet rising sun

Rather than yearning for ball point
to check off
Peacefulness & beauty with poingant
smile

Been there, done that!
O tireless mantra for
Consummation of life

Anticipating the soft cooing
of Septembers mourning dove
spawns antiquated veins of nobility
much kindlier than traffic lights
and car horns

The perfume of fresh earth
as dew is called back to Heaven
leaves very pleasantly
remorseless of its brief endeavor
or fleeting benevolence

Details | Brian Martin Poem

The Hardest Thing

we're here again
you in denim skirt
shrinking against long legs
I in (imaging) nothing
sheen & glisten in moonlight
interior car lamp light
tan
crimped high hair & bangs
blue eyeliner
mascara
easy to manuever
baggy sweater
boots both pleasant
left
on or off
coco chanel palpable
down the smooth of the neck
wet  full
shut eyed wine cooler passion
tongue on tongue
w/ hint of marlboro kiss
synchrotizing deep breaths
hands searching instictively
sharing talents without even looking
yes ma'am
not too many fails for a blind man
to hop that curb
when he got his reed straight
what a telecommute you give to
adolescent lust with reaquianting
idioms of San Joaquin Valley dreams
your laugh reaches out
to pat me on the head
how to knit the nights into one
without the rising of the sun
I would never go home again
(out all night)
you see, I've thought of the impossible before
me and you
before Mexico
before mentioning retiring at 50
and living off interest
off the coast
with maids & gardeners
your smile fulfilling as you dig
your grace teaching as you fold
your hand moving from the top of my head
to slap my face
All you asked for was a diamond ring
All you asked for was that I be impractical
All you asked for was that I live the SLO life

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Stop

Stop
Sign
Red light Green light
Stop running by the pool
Stop annoying your siblings
Stop picking your nose
Stop Drop and Roll
Stop talking in class
Stop making out behind the gym
Stop mashing your zits
Stop going so fast
Stop staying out so late
Stop!
there's a cop
Stop underage drinking
Stop having sex
Stop wasting time
Stop lying in bed all day
Stop calling in sick
Stop what you're doing
and listen for just a minute
More like an hour!
Stop being a smart ass
Stop being a free loader
This has got to stop!
Stop being mainstream
Stop shaving
Stop by and see me sometime
Stop ignoring me
Stop lying
Stop cheating
Are they ever going to stop?
Somebody...Please make them stop!
Stop blaming yourself
Stop dating
Stop daydreaming
Stop and smell the roses
Stop being irresponsible
Stop smoking
Stop fighting
Stop hunger
Stop Drop and Roll
Stop repeating yourself
Stop human trafficing
Stop human trafficing
Stop looking the other way
Stop the world from spinning
out of control
How do I make it stop?
Stop this madness!

Details | Brian Martin Poem

Batten the Hatch

Buzzing rail buggies 
spinning paddled tires beating
out a gritty wake feather
on sand dune
deliberation over alcohol burning
engines being better than gas
everyone with lit cigarette in hand
aroma of tobacco with salt launching
forth from frothy waves
forms low misty curtains
a soft silty beach records a tiny footprint
seagulls honking, hovering like sound buoy's
a large black image emerges from the ocean 
it could be a friendly sea monster
"it's grandpa" in a wet suit he wore
more often than a coat and tie
bringing his grandchildren treasure from Atlantis
in abalone shell purses over flowing with sand dollars
I could be all day at the boardwalk arcade
with this haul he brought in
there would be Salmon smoked and filleted
for Thanksgiving dinner
all the cousins huddled together in the family room
with 3 bay windows on the cliff
verging on the muffled sea
countered by a fireplace and couches

This painting of a tempest tossed ship with mast, less sail,
over the mantel
brush stroked by some nameless prophetic flea market artist
over the hum of conversation, laughter
and cacophony of china and crystal
a hushed deep voice filled
my chest like a distant fog horn blew

"These are days of calm, my boy....... enjoy them!"

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Whit

The deputy drinks
Scotch from a bottle-



with painted nails 
and a giggle

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Chateau Pl

Chateau Pl

A sleep walk guided by reflections
Although somethings were real
Not the front entry way
Or the stair case
Or the garage for that matter
Scrubbed and alcohol swabbed shoes
Eating off those would've been though
Pee sitting down!
And cologne must not be detectable
From more than an arms length away!
Nobody wore it
I think
The closet could've clothed a small town
And housed an elderly couple with a Pomeranian
A parked Steinway on sleek marble
Or maybe it was a Bentley, whichever,
The keys were misplaced
Handshakes are forbidden!
You may speak, however.
A stolli over ice seemed to be the only thing
Not surreal
Unless you would fancy triple dipping
Beluga caviar with a vacuum in your hand surreal
Or, perhaps, being seduced by homemade egg noodles
Can you describe that atrocius smell?
A Land's End catalog doused in kerosene
Ties & cufflinks & Jackets on fire sale
A whiff of ozone
Darkness
A hazy stare assisted by chirping birds
and a gurgling salt water tank
In an upstairs, 2 bdr. duplex
A peon awakens a prince

Details | Brian Martin Poem

She's Ripe

Humanity is desperate for a taker
The archaic foundation is shaken and
Bitter worms are writhing from among the cracks
like a slow nightmare to overtake
mom's apple pie
Nature responding reaches its arms
to its Maker
With a plea traveling on stale wind
come back in this dark hour and see
the need for food and water
a reliable electrical source
Arms wrapped in tragedy see no color
Help is a word uttered only by the needy
Breathing a resuscitating breath that empowers the greedy
Opportunity its glass to the door
Enters with the ring of a bell
The lie approaching full term
has a nation on bed rest
while little green men stand ready to wet nurse
this idea with dissenter blood
This Vamp
This beast has the most intriguing
and beguiling of names
With trumpets and fanfare
This babe arises
NEW HOPE!
And with her the ages change

She plucks out your heart and leaves your eyes in
so you can watch her
She loves an audience and like a lustful perpetrator
She presses her pointy finger to your lips and says
Shhhh.... Don't you speak
If you move you die
When she is done she bandages your wounds
and goes on about how lucky you are

     You've always been smarter than me John
     There are your degrees
     Your craft to make stretchy taffy of the truth
     and set criminals free
     BUT LOOK AT HER!

Naked post mortem pale
Piss drenched rats scurrying about her
Gnawing nudging prying her lips apart
Leaving a crap trail as they squeeze down her throat to
Feast on her heart(What a heart, the best there ever was)
So they can find their way out after they've gorged themselves on blood

       You used to love her John.
             She's a whore.
       She's somebody's daughter, a mother to many.
       For God's sake cover her body

Men in lab coats with a wave of inconvenience are summoned in
Their necks ebb and flow with inconspicuous snickering
Then everything stops suddenly
a pupil dilated hush covers the room
the silence surrendering to drops of drool wakening the frigid
Coroner's floor

       You know who........ YOU KNOW WHO THIS IS!
       Quick, get out your phones
       Let's take a group selfie
       You know who this is..... Don't you?
       Her name starts with an A!