Best Briers Poems
Heated only by stars—
Another night without you.
It bites out my very veins,
This shudder from some animal
That made its house-home in my soul
Now since you’re gone.
I won’t play too hard with my dark side,
Though they say now I must.
I’m remembering you instead—our dreams in stardust,
In the light or night of day.
Are you getting the briers I left in your skin?
Stuck to you, I know I hurt you;
But I hope they fit around you like the beginning of wings—
From me.
She called me darling
And I felt my feet grow roots
While the ground swelled to meet me
She called me darling
As the wind combed the briers in my hair
And strange squirrels anointed me with nests
She called me darling
And the sun painted my cheeks rouge
While the sea spilled from my eyes
She called me darling
As my heart thundered in the distant sky
And the earth shook from its efforts
She called me darling
And a balloon in my chest swelled
Bursting forth with barely contained joy
--------------
Freeish Verse.
Just a little sweet poem to try and overcome my writer's block.
“Haiku”
sunbeam dances light
among briers and bramble….
maker's tapestry
sharp lines intertwine
daintily paint silhouettes….
against twilight sky
~*~
“Quatrain”
Dark forest captures life
disbursing death’s deep vale.
Vague inner quiet rife
along each winding trail.
Vines seductively twine
concealing that within.
Constructing forest shrine
deeply obscured fox den.
~*~
“Tanka”
In its quaint abode
beneath emerald canopy
opens woodland doors
to a vast menagerie
encased in green blanket mold
new life beginning to end.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
twas a cold and cloudy day
nippy in nature with trees in sway
that time in winter when days were short
the kind of day when a grave digger
would take a snort
to warm the bones, so to speak
a few more snorts to make it neat
but dig the grave ready for the next day
and the grave digger would earn his pay
it never bothered him that he made a living
digging graves
sometimes he wondered why people were afraid
it's just a place where dead bodies are laid
as long as people are dying
there's money to be made
on his way home singing a song
living in a world where nothing was wrong
or so it seemed
but while he was walking'
one of the thorny briers latched
on to one of his shoe latches
and in one step the bow was gone
unknowingly the grave digger
kept moving along, singing his song
like nothing was wrong
unaware that he could slip
never minding that he could trip
the old grave digger singing his song
without a thought that something was wrong
he reached in his pocket
for a pipe that was'nt there
and was sure that he had droped it
somewhere back there
his search was so intense
it took him all the way back to the grave
but just before he got there
he steped on his shoe string
there was nothing he could do
falling head long into the grave
where a broken neck was waiting
and also his pipe laid
so we'll end this story like Esop ends his
there is a moral to the story
for all the growing kids
smoking is bad for you
H unger drives small wings to follow-
O n search of nectar to swallow.
N atures own sweet drink to borrow-
E ven if morning dew falls tomorrow.
Y ummy blossoms drench zealous air-
S ifting through briers with flair.
U nderneath the weeping willow-
C olored spouts in sun kissed yellow-
K eeping everything quite mellow.
L eaving frail stems to intertwine-
E agerly small wings stop to dine.
V intage sweet blossom abundance-
I nvites even insects to chance.
N o spring is forever complete-
E ating all so tenderly sweet.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Seventh Place Winner ~ "FLOWERS OF SPRING” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Carol Brown
May 15, 2011
a rusty mailbox
covered with briers and brambles –
broken house
12/29/2016
In the garden of my soul
there fell a seed
wondrous smooth
and dark as evening’s shadow
from which emerged a tree
tentative
its stem twisting uncertain from the soil
as a lover estranged
contriving an oblique path to bliss
unassuming seeming
yet in every subtle arc and incline
betraying desire by apprehension
its bark was gray as dawn
concealing colors dimly recalled
of a forest perhaps
or the creatures within
subdued, but of a sudden
illumined stark
inspired for a moment to endure exposure’s hazard
lest their beauty rest unrealized
unto death in fear’s embrace
and so it was
intrigued by these discreet shades of delight
I stayed the instinct that bade me
cut this curious guest
before it deprive all plants
cultivated by slow discipline
of nourishment
thus intact
from infancy it passed
until mature
its roots entwined with every cherished flower
and sweet-smelling herb
it issued forth a blossom
purple as melancholy
as it touches solitude’s warmth
and is rendered akin to joy
too gentle to endure
it yielded swift to fruit
its surface saffron
its flesh red
and seeming in its succulence
to entertain all contradictory moods
suggesting rose and berry
and lavender and peach
their certainty contaminated
but through intimacy grown vivid
as melodies may
by contact resonate in opposition
and in this way I was enriched
by eating of the tree’s blessing born of doubt
though through its flourishing thence
my garden has become a place most strange
transformed by lust untempered
into the home of myriad beasts and briers
possessed of claw
and thorn that rend
and streams that flood
and fungi that rise silent
from the wetness over night
and deep
where no thought penetrates
a seed awaiting propagation
dark perhaps
and wondrous smooth
I’ll take the back road; it is lovely and less traveled;
the briers run high against naked tree bark.
Around the bend the road is graveled-
with a canopy of foliage making pathway dark.
The briers run high against naked tree bark;
keeping all wild predators - hidden dangers at bay.
With a canopy of foliage making pathway dark;
I continually hope I am not mistaken for prey.
Keeping all wild predators - hidden dangers at bay;
if an abiding effort is on daily bases.
I continually hope I am not mistaken for prey,
as long as I do not travel in all the wrong places.
If an abiding effort is on daily bases;
around the bend the road is graveled.
As long as I do not travel in all the wrong places;
I’ll take the back road; it is lovely and less traveled.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Sixth Place Winner ~ "Back to Back” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Paula Swanson
April 4, 2011
With youthful vigor, self-serving pursuits did enthrone
Fealty's dues trumping pride did disown
Encased by unbridled passion, mitigating perpetuity did groan
I lingered in your shadow 'till life's cover had blown
Then instinctively garnished pages from patrimonial loan
I traveled the cobbled path now overgrown;
With briers and weeds, spent years to atone
I saw your tread on each, cracked stone
Blithely meandered toward mutual destiny, alone
Strode in each footstep your sweat, tears did hone
Pranced through the smooth stretches you did conscientiously tone
Through brokered prism scanning each lofty vista, your vision did clone
Ensnared by cumbersome demons, frailties; your genetic markers had strewn
Skirted each obstruction utilizing exemplary pattern deftly sown
Prated o'er each pitfall that your missteps did condone
When life's path nearly run, an approving voice echoes from heavenly zone
Have you ever had a black berry bush
Drooping with wild fruit that you were hungry for,
Only to be driven away by
A swarm of wasps encircling its briers?
Have you ever picked up a plum off the ground
Because it was red and plump beneath its tree,
Only to turn it around and see
An army of ants eating the other half?
Have you ever picked a muscadine from a vine,
Popped it in your mouth without carefully inspecting it?
Then afterwards realized that
A stink bug had left its scent on it?
That what it's like to be in a love relationship
With someone who's in love with someone else.
You expect to have the sweetest juice, the firmest texture;
But as soon as the fruit is pressed, you make unpleasant faces,
And you spit and spit and spit and wipe your tongue on your shirt
Telling the one next to you of your unfortunate event, warning them
To be as cautious as you will before the next pick.
Nestled deep in the tawny, drab woodland
Sedate cottage neither haughty nor grand
Sparse hovel of unassuming, itinerant brigand
Martial decor of detached highwayman starkly bland
The etched path sculpted by intemperate hand
No manicured garden on the scrubby strand
Briers and brambles errant straggler must withstand
Thatched clapboards stable his stallion firebrand
Unruly swine garnish acorns from scraggly wasteland
Buried deep in his cellar pilfered contraband
Per chance drifter did the terrain assay
And chose that toilsome, forsaken way
A spartan welcome hauteur did convey
No lodgings, accoutrements could sway
If for grace, mercy they did pray
Only a cold shoulder he did relay
If they tested his temperance and sued for trite parley
He reconnoitered their belongings through wordplay
If no net value they were beguiled to betray
Their worthless lives he did indignantly slay
What species was the tree
He grew to be
The roughhewed, splintered
Old rugged cross
What pain He went through
For me
Because His love was true
For you and the whole world too
He grew the plant
That they did implant
Upon His lovely brow
For my sins of rejection and desires
So imperfect
His brow now scared
From those pointed briers
Which pierced so deep and hard
Blooms
Christmas lantern
on their jack fruit tree
like the brightest star
they admire in their rainbow
dreams.
To cut
Bamboo sticks,
under briers they crawled.
Night and day, they saw
how their Christmas lantern grow.
With its bare skeleton,
it looked first so hungry,
and they saw how it grow.
With
its yellow attires,
they thought it looked so proud.
Their sweat swings high now.
With their food, and gentle
care,
it blooms on their Jack fruit tree
like their brightest star,
kindling
their kindred hearts with festive moons.
*A 2nd Place* in the following contest (judged on Dec. 22, 2020)
Dec. 15, 2020
Christmas Poems Old or New Poetry Contest
Contest sponsor: Constance La France
Love is sacrificial,
It gives all without holding back,
It stands to defend,
Putting itself on the line.
Love is a traveller,
It goes on miles to seek the desired,
It journeys with the beloved,
Distance is not a barrier.
Love bears every circumstance,
Thorns and thistles fraught,
Briers and nettles abound,
It stays close through thick and thin.
Love is a comforter,
It heals deep cuts and wounds,
It’s a solace for the bereaved,
It’s a prop for the troubled.
Love is an upholder,
It lifts from the basest level,
It carries on eagle's wings,
It channels positive energies.
Love is a boundless stream,
Unpolluted and undefiled,
Sufficient for all who want to fetch,
Available in a serene flow.
August 20, 2022.
So, what does Nature
and Her Winter suggest?
that death is but a sleep
before a refreshing showery
sunny new awakening
that each resting kernel of being
is a blossom again to come forth
perennials of form with lofting
scents and beguiling evolving
textures
no soil can ever fully contain
nor rising smoke of briers
be anything less than Freedom
Breaths released
seeking dawns of experience
souls en-route to still ampler bliss
having been de-shelled
freed from stifling encumbering filters
I think Winter as much the good messenger
as it is the Grim Reaper
I think Winter as much the cold and still
as it is the ceaseless heart of birthing
warmth
flakes of color never straying too far
from their green leafy patterns
we travel inherent veins sensing our
own blood pulsing there-in and out
blushing and unfolding fond ripeness
every flower brought forth
a new universe
to freshly sniff and dream
every bee and speck of pollen
an extender-finger pointing toward
an even greater God