Best Brent Poems
Allison scrunched up her nose and oinked like a pig.
Joey stuck out his tongue and opened his eyes so big.
The other children in the classroom laughed out loud
when silly little Willie made his funny face then bowed.
Erin rubbed her little cheeks red with lots of finger paint.
Jack patted his face with chalk dust and pretended to faint.
Rachel pulled her eyebrows up and her chin way down
while Brent spiked his hair and wore a bad boy frown.
Each kid had a turn to try to win the honor and prize.
The shyest child of all was the winner. What a surprise!
It was the quiet little girl who was funniest of them all.
Jenna pursed her lips and cried, "Mama," like a real doll.
Then the teacher said, "It's time to return to your places,
but I promise we'll have another day of making funny faces."
April 21st, 2016
I had a little friend who left too soon.
Acute leukemia struck at age five.
His mind was so blindingly bright.
This earth could not give it room.
He had questions in endless supply.
Every answer quickened another query
About stars, earthworms, seasons.
Even some adults struggled to reply.
In that era nothing could be done.
He was hospitalized for passive care.
I visited him one bleak, broken day.
His mother was sobbing for her son.
Losing a child—name a thing as bad.
I cannot conceive the anguish of it.
I cannot harbor a hurt so severe.
Years later grief drove the father mad.
And if perchance I meet the mother
A decade beyond her child’s death.
Seeing me opens an unhealed wound
And she tries fresh tears to smother.
His name was Brent, I see him yet
Dressed in all white in his casket.
I wonder at the why of his passing.
I wonder if God should a child forget.
Stef, born in New Zealand’s fine country,
Moved to Canada aged 4 with her parents,
Where she had a boating accident aged 9,
Which amputated her right foot for her life.
She’s married to fellow Paralympian fast,
Canadian wheelchair racer Brent Lakatos,
And they both train at Loughborough Uni,
Where there’s a plethora of sports facilities.
Stef graduated from good Queens University,
In Biochemistry with honours and at times,
Is a professional speaker, a fashion model,
And lay preacher of the gospel and the way.
Before the accident Stephanie played rugby,
But afterwards she could not do this because,
Her prosthetic was at risk of detaching itself,
Mid-game and injuring near placed players.
So she went into track and field athletics,
Practised until she became sick and tired,
Which saw her make the 2008 Paralympics,
In Beijing when she won gold for the sprint.
She graced the podium often at small meets,
In Manchester and in London. Christchurch
Saw her flourish when she won two bronzes:
One for the long jump and one for the 200m.
In Swansea at the European games in 2014,
Stef took home for the T44 long jump a gold,
And in the London Paras which introduced,
So many to disability sport, she won a silver.
In Rio she won another silver, on the mark
For TeamGB. She hasn’t always represented,
Britain because when she was much younger,
She competed for Canada’s rocky territory.
Two-Fifty-Four
©2012 C. Brent Cloyd
I bought a new scale at the Wal-Mart store.
Made it secure and level on the floor.
I took a breath, then stepped on.
The digits I saw made me moan.
Surely, I do not weigh two-fifty-four!
Let’s balance the scale, then I’ll try once more.
Adjusted proper, they’ll give the right score.
This time the scales will behave.
I stepped on, tried to be brave.
But with a grin they said “two-fifty-four”.
I would like to throw these scales out the door.
Wish they were lying, but I can’t ignore.
I’ve gobbled many things sweet
And chewed on too much red meat.
My expanding poundage is “two-fifty-four”.
My belly is huge, my chin is galore.
Need to lose it, but process is a chore.
Need diet low in fat and starch.
So my stomach will not arch.
Hope to be smaller than “two-fifty-four”.
Would a brisk walk cause my health to restore?
Would losing blubber help me not to snore?
Let’s get started. Soon I say!
Well - after the holiday!
Cause my clothes don’t fit at “two-fifty-four”.
A Deal with the Chief Campaigner
©2012 C. Brent Cloyd
There was a House Speaker named Boehner
Sought a deal with the chief campaigner
For budget cuts he did hope
But campaigner said nope
For how would we pay the retainers?
We know of this disastrous event
As we now know of the spills extent
All these years they had time to invent
A remedy for repairable descent
We allow them drilling consent
To represent our resourceful contents
Our geology is picked up by their scents
Millions of years are turned into cents
In Scotland we have oilfields called the Brent
Where the same companies represent
There is always the element of torment
For nature there is never a lament
All they are interested in is their percent
One day they may be held to account and repent
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life-8.php
~Absentminded Brent~
(Rhyme)
When somebody looks for him,
they find that he's never there.
He's the kid that people never see
In the classroom, emptied, they find his chair.
When the teachers run the list of names,
They call out, in fact, for Brent.
But Brent he's always full of games,
He just came in and just went.
Who knows! to someplace no one knows,
So they miss him all the time.
He's so often in the come and go,
or wasn't there at all, anytime.
When he's at home his parents call him,
but Absentminded Brent, he's someplace else.
He's either fighting with Big Jim,
or bullying and scarying little Kim.
He hides anywhere and everywhere,
of his own shadow he's so very scared.
So he goes to his very secret place,
and prays nobody will find him there.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2004
January.09.2016
I'm building a spaceship in my garden shed
From old bits of second hand cars
It's due to depart in a couple of months
Not to Uranus,Venus or Mars
But far further away in the cosmos
Lies a planet quite similar to Earth
With an atmosphere simply to die for
Yes it's Kepler dash 186f
There room for at least a dozen or so
And I'm currently making a list
Of some of my friends who might fancy the trip
But I think I will have to insist
That they bring some warm clothes for the journey
Some sandwiches, cakes and a flask
'cause five hundred light years is quite distant
But I think they'll be up to the task
I'm obliged to ask Peter and Suzy
Well they asked us for Christmas last year
And Bill and Claudette from the Alderman's Arms
I could put them in charge of the beer
There's Mary and Phil, they're already an item
There's Vera McKinlay and Brent
Then there's Tommy and Sue, I just had to invite them
As Tommy's the one with the tent
I've ensured that they're all of childbearing age
And I'll pair them all up from the start
And I'll seat them together to help them
get familiar before we depart
Then as soon as we land on the planet
We'll get down to the business in hand
And in no time at all there'll be hundreds of us
To develop our new wonderland
So I'll soon have the craft fit for lift-off
And I've filled up the rockets with gas
And I'm sure they'll withstand the explosion
Cause I've used only best fibreglass
Then as soon as my crew are assembled
And the satnav is fitted and primed
We'll be heading for Kepler dash 186f
And one more giant step for mankind
Our Twenty-Nine
©2012 C. Brent Cloyd
You have been my darling for twenty-nine
Traveling state to state, place to place
My partner, my lover, my valentine.
We’ve had and held on in good times or bad
We’re not rich, nor poor, but our house is full
You have been my darling for twenty-nine.
You brought forth three children into our home
Two have moved away, one remains with us
My partner, my lover, my valentine.
Daring to believe we pursued the wind
We chased dreams, some saw light and some faded
You have been my darling for twenty-nine.
Faith, hope, love, and adventure paved our path
The call to service has been our highway
My partner, my lover, my valentine.
We have known joy and we have known sorrow
But our journey has brought satisfaction
You have been my darling for twenty-nine
My partner, my lover, my valentine.
A Resolution for This Time
(Based on Eccl. 3:1-15)
©2011 C. Brent Cloyd
I long to see the beauty of my time
Hear music from eternal bells that chime
Enjoy earth, till this good life I sever
Look toward heaven that last forever
I’ll grasp my part in each life occasion
Banish thoughts and deeds of ill persuasion
Accept God’s design for each life season
Submit that I need not know His reason
I will celebrate life so wondrous born
Understand that death is not always scorn
Propagate goodness and wholeness in life
And uproot that which causes pain and strife
I’ll concede it’s sometimes proper to kill
But until convinced I’ll promote goodwill
Useless things I will tear down and destroy
Then plan to build, and work efforts deploy
I will comfort the hearts of those forlorn
Together find God’s healing as we mourn
Dare to dream, love, have hope, and take a chance
Embrace the moment, laugh, and learn to dance
I’ll speak with passion, let pieces scatter
Gather the fragments, avoid the chatter
Engage opinions, proceed with a shrug
When acceptable, open arms and hug
For things of value I’ll search at great cost
When searching is exhausted count it lost
When usefulness has ended, throw away
But don’t allow important things to stray
Now is the time to tear some things apart
Then with care I’ll mend and make a new start
Learn the lesson that silence is golden
Of words fitly said men are beholden
I pledge to hate what is cruel and unjust
Teach that kindness and fairness are a must
In war, anger and malice find release
But I’ll use my voice to encourage peace
Yesteryear’s events once again will be
To measure their success we wait and see
God’s deeds are good, lasting and without flaw
Of Him and His works I will gaze in awe.
This piece was done with help from a friend, Homer(@chrysomer on Instagram), please do check him out. We took turns, alternating with each line. He began, then on and on it went. I’ll be starting his lines with “[H]” and mine with “[P]”, so keep track if you can??
I’m a fan of Brent Weeks’. Some content is tied to ideas used in his Shadow Books: ‘Beyond the Shadows’, ‘Shadow’s Edge’, and ‘The Way of Shadows'(must reads, for all epic fantasy, fiction lovers out there).
Enjoy!
WARRIOR KING’S PLIGHT
[H] Despondent delinquent, I gaze into an abyss
[P] My raging ruler’s spirit, impugning as is
[H] Fiery and blazing, like a dragon’s breath it seethes
[P] Would that winter dawns upon my gazing
[H] But winter frolics and brings with it seasons whitening
[P] And neither snow nor white ash could taint this pitch
[H] The gods had already pissed and ruined its green
[P] Now myrtle and mistletoe, birds never may preen
[H] Not hens, not eagles nor owls may perch
[P] Still I gazed into this abyss, this pitch, watching it stretch
[H] The length of the waste was in miles at best
[P] The breadth of it, the monsters! a roaming nest
[H] Vicious and hungry, they roamed for prey, eyes wandering, they suddenly settled on me
[P] But I expected this, longed for the chaos; Come!
[H] They lunged forward, baring their frightening teeth, some still drooping the flesh of fresh meat
[P] I draw my savage broadsword, cloaked in rage and revenge
[H] Glittering with the black diamonds entrusted to me in Hades
[P] My stance paints an undying picture, and Cerulean steel meets pitch
[H] My blade whistles a singsong of vengeance, eager to spill blood in this battlefield
[P] I am one man
[H] My sword is legion
[P] My will drives my blade, my will overwhelms my reality; when does it end?
[H] It just did, he snapped out of his 3D and sighed heavily
[P] Lol… That was a good one
There was no theme or working structure to this. We just randomly started this in a group on WhatsApp.
Please, don't forget to comment. :)
Why Do I Love You?
©2011 C. Brent Cloyd
When I tell you that I love you
Hurriedly you ask, tell me why?
You laugh when in dismay I sigh
Dare now, listen to some reasons
Obsess and parse them if you please
I love because God gave you to me
Life is good when I see your smile
Observe your wittiness and style
Valuable are your hugs so snug
Each time you travel I feel a tug
You bring pride and make my heart dance
Overawed I choose to love, not perchance
Utmost I love because you are you.
The Old House and the New Home
©2011 C. Brent Cloyd
I’ve lived in houses in the country side
There with my family I did abide
By the dust and gravel of a country road
Much pride was taken in our humble abode
I’ve lived in houses perched on a hill
Many of which are not standing still
They provided shelter in their time
Provoked memories that make life rhyme
I’ve lived in a house on a city street
Where the neighbors came out at night to meet
I’ve lived in houses made of wood and stone
On avenues where children could safely roam
I’ve lived in houses of mortar and brick
Where driveways were paved and the grass was thick
I’ve enjoyed houses far better than most
Where friends would come and I could serve as host
But my current house seems like a foreign land
Where everyone wants to lend me a hand
Living in this place is not my desire
Of this arrangement I easily tire
The time has come for me to leave
To this old house I will not cleave
I no longer want a cottage here below
To a fine home in heaven soon I will go.
I long not for a mansion or streets of gold
But just a place where I will never grow old
A place where pain and sadness are never more
Where happiness is found on every shore
I am eager, yes ready, to move out
To possess my new home with a shout!
The promised home Jesus went to prepare
Death please come quickly, I want to be there.
It's a cold bitter day
the wind it bites like needles
head held low, wind chimes
beckon from the open fields
to the shelter of his elders
woods, a cabin quaint and humble
place enough to potter and mumble
where he kneels beneath the smoke
stained stone vent
Kindle wood in hands to light the fire
helped on by his old leather bellows
a gust makes good the flame
With time on hand and pipe on lip
he lays right back and takes a sip
old man Brent demure, content
he lived a quite
descent and lent
an ear to the wild,
travelled to town on his
horse and cart always
up with the lark an
early start
Made his own wine from
elderberry fine, where he
drank in the evening of his
own decline
He played his father’s fiddle
that high pitched hey diddle
diddle, fingertips hardened
aged and brittle
The years are closing in on
the old man from fresh pine
hill sitting on the rocks where
his fore-bearers sat, ending
his days on the shores of his
youth, old man Brent his far
away stare, smiles.
Caucus Over
©2012 C. Brent Cloyd
Romney claims he is most electable
Results conclude that is debatable.
Bachman stood firm on defense and health care law
Discovered her support was filled with straw.
Santorum touched palms, wore out shoes and truck
Had clear narrative, timing and good luck.
Perry soared, forgot, “oops,” and millions spent
Said thanks, boarded plane, back to Texas went.
Paul hates the Fed and loves the constitution
Deplores war, and young folks like his solution.
Gingrich defied odds, then truth made him sag
He moves on with hope, yet carries his bags.