Best Brinks Poems
As I paddled the river Nile
I met a monstrous crocodile.
She smiled at me enticingly.
I smiled deferentially.
Through large white teeth to me she said,
"I want you in my river bed."
"We are not acquainted enough
for such intimate, tasteless stuff,"
I cried. A hippopotamus
opined, "Hey, we're amphibious.
We're inclined to romp through marshes;
come, let's crush some reedy rushes."
I paddled hard away. The Nile
now swirled by rapidly awhile
to the sea. There where its two brinks
grow apart it flows past a sphinx
who lies prone and thinks endlessly
deep thoughts about eternity.
For eons and eons his mind
thought thoughts about how to unbind
gravity from mentality
throughout universality,
that we might freely float;
no more need to paddle my boat.
Unfortunately, he has no gumption
to follow his least assumption;
but we do chat on fluently
of, to wit, stuff way beyond me
like hieroglyphic-ally writ
papyri. When he will not quit
I wander alone to a tomb
where lies Cleopatra, of whom
each schoolgirl knows; how her last gasp
came as she clasped to breast her asp.
Grasp that story's significance
twixt geometry class and dance.
Whilst she patronymic-ally
reigned, a most royal Ptolemy;
she told Marc, "My new last 'nym' now'll
be 'Anthony'." This, post her roll
out, quite nude, from Julius' rug.
His offer of sex met her mere shrug.
I stood amid a pyramid
or three and pondered where they hid,
these pharaohs, all their treasury.
Was power or mere pleasury
their true architectural plan?
To ever tell, no pharaoh can.
These writs I write as my boat drifts
midst original hieroglyphs
through the Mediterranean.
I don't need a librarian
to see, no sociology
compares to Egyptology.
Categories:
brinks, adventure, funny, me, me,
Form:
Light Verse
My shadow casts a hollow grave
Waiting for me to sink and bathe
Foreboding worlds that for us were meant
A withering heart forever bent
Swallowing sadness from yesteryear
Regurgitating madness is what I fear
Walking circles in the line of straight
Everlasting memories of poisons ate
Sunshine never kissed my ghostly hole
Brinks of hurt layered take there toll
Fortress of solitude soon complete
For the sins of sorrow do repeat.
March.02.2016 ^WW^
Categories:
brinks, absence, abuse, heartbroken, hurt,
Form:
Couplet
Technology is matter built to mind our fusions and confessions of relaxation, tie up the man who believe not what you believe, and praises those like you, and pay homage to the one who makes you believe
Name the shame and project it in reason, seasoning the wounds with lies and killing the truth so much that question of dreams are reality of answers, in noise of poverty, earring of gold and riches, touches of slavery and vision of desires.
I sit, in a sited position thought consuming the mind, silence at its dept, and emotion at brinks of uncertainty, call me what you but never call me a reader of this encrypted life, deciphered by the same person who is clueless too.
Some say we create our own fate, some say we born to with a purpose, some say we are in search of a destination that has no map,
Some people are followers like those who live inside the barriers of lawful codes, and some are prisoners to it,
But some are what they are
So i ask again in aged time of seconds gone by,
Are you a creator or computer?
Lebron Spirits
Categories:
brinks, computer, confusion, deep, education,
Form:
ABC
Riding in glides,
super-sailing in leaps-
going on and on about the otherside,
trailing to collide,
and oppressing in the peaks of my plight,
in the loneliest day which is just as night.
I now look to the sky!
Interesting in my sights,
interesting to deny of life,
and the rotating bike,
with some ivory fight,
I now look to the sky!
As your stand-up comedian,
as your rhyme of the eye!
A rye of the ripening fry-
an intrinsic like a cry!
I now look to the sky!
Melancholic,
systematic,
the intimation of procreating during a sustainment-
intonation,
allocation,
the moody croons,
and the wisdom drooping in swoons.
The ink-ur-
slowly to rise but lingers,
Trojan Horse!
'Enemy's Tinkerer!'
And yes also with a sorry clown in a finger,
does it right but still does it meager,
because he is a teacher-
and you reach her.
Every time the lurid outcasts are seen in the wooden brinks,
it's connection is formed through a grave mistake!
The next day is what you take away,
no matter how hard or faked we were in our try-
I sped into the curb but it took me dry.
I worked and worked but nobody saw my eyes,
I was always in a youthful wonder of how we die,
I couldn't peace out or even par-take,
I wanted the real thing just like my base.
Categories:
brinks, best friend, care, growth,
Form:
Verse
It’s My Birthday
It’s my birthday… I look out the window there is no one for me owe so, owe so lonely poor me .
It’s my birthday… you surprise me, with a Barber-Q grill with a cooler that chills with a grin we show white grills.
Happy Birthday… it’s my Birthday I am still waiting, it is almost the end of my the day, just waiting on you to wish me a happy birthday which, well make my day.
It’s my birthday…you do not remember that day, can we go out for we can remember that day?
It’s my birthday… I can share it or alone, some share it with a twin, or with a friend and the ones who stay to the ends like a good friend.
It my birthday… its looks like another day to me I just need someone or something to comfort with me a room full of women and with hand full men, a juice in cup, juice in glass, with a sweet lady and grill on cut grass that may make every day feel like my birthday, with a touch of class.
It’s your birthday… it’s your birthday you should all-ways win on your birthday, if do not have a mate you sneak and go on second party date form those who may player hate.
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday! it comes and go, I see you come through, looking out my window with a hand full company that is what a party really should need, yes it’s sweet, sweet with music and sweet with treats or it must be the money, or food, or brinks, or just me.
Poetry 7/7/12 by author Keith Kadell
Categories:
brinks, anniversary, birthday, brother, caregiving,
Form:
Lyric
Fajitas For Rosy
Stare stall and groan,
groom
and rake morning sand
pocket book door key
Samarkind club Tokay[OK]
fingernail rail
onto slime beach
in AM. after hip-dip[ and drink
with [still- -speed] seed.
and,,,slowly walk [away]
may
yield
small great pea.
point of all, small mall animal
like a tiny mammal, knowing
Lithuwana
wanting a polish dog ,...
Fajitas for Rosy Muruyama
bank worked Brinks maintop, manship
in my brother’s sterile sink.
Ah! Rosy[Ah! girl!] lemonade and fish soup
with little bits of trapped tourist toys floating
in flotilla grave. wave.
Categories:
brinks, allegory
Form:
Haiku
My dear love,gaze within your heart
And feel the love thats growing
Where the divine petals start
And the trembling flowers glowing.
Where dovelike stars in towering light
Bears the seeds of beauty
Upon the breastplate of your heart
Love has done its duty.
Feel the stems, the hidden root
Of loves soaring height
Ride the wind,the happy wind
That takes us out to flight.
My dear love,tread no more in sadness
Your mourning heart so deep
Take my hands and fly with me
To the brinks of heavens peak!
FOREVER
Categories:
brinks, feelings, love,
Form:
Rhyme
For you, I will see,
For you, I would guarantee,
For you, I could be an emcee,
For you, I will pass oversea,
For all of you, I could be esprited...
For you, I will walk,
For you, I won't baulk,
For all of you, we will flock,
For all of you, I won't pock,
For all of you, this won't be a crock...
For you, I will think,
For you, I will blink,
For you, I would interlink,
For all of you, I would sync,
For you, I can break brinks,
For all of you, I might bequeath...
For all of you, I might concede,
For you, I might precede,
For all of you, I might exceed,
For you, I mit accede,
With all of you, I might proceed,
With all of you, I might succeed,
For you, I might bleed,
For all of you, I could be a steed...
From all of you, I might receive,
To all of you, I might give,
For you, I might cry,
For you, I might lead,
For you, I can try,
More I could say,
But for you, I might live,
For all of you, I might die,
I could give my soul, for all of you...
Categories:
brinks, art, best friend, dedication,
Form:
Free verse
Most common folk may know of this
To be an act of despicable excess
A wasteful plea of conjured sin
A loathing grouse peppered with joy and the sting of relentless ugly
The dignity of the soul which grants the righteous pour
Signals approval, encouragement and bon voyage to the lucky one
The one which has planned this marriage of vessel and sea
The one rampant with stories to be told
Ever the more likely once the sea begins to flow
This of golden variety
Of shanked sobriety
Of lustful tincture
Where the deep gaze and rousing examination
Lift the spirit of this finite sea
To brinks and cliffs of Dover
As vessel and sea become one
And everyone goes home a winner.
(9/4/12)
Categories:
brinks, drink, eulogy, funny love,
Form:
Free verse
Credit Crunch
So they rob the money
Ain't that Funny
Banker,Flankers,Tankers
Fingers in the pot
Political situation hot
Slight of hand, diversion
Laundering, pondering
Dollars devalued
Pumps run dry
Petrol prices sky high.
Weep little peasants
Learn the lies
Under employment
Over indulgence
Credit cards blaze
Fictitious accounts,
Spending craze
Bim, bam , Wham
Credit crunch
No more caviar for brunch.
Porsche parked, others jump
Pension crisis, Banking slump.
Brinks Matt robbed !!
And no guns pulled
Faces change, government bull
Play the card, Tell a story
Worldwide crisis, escalating prices.
Bankers paid, government sway
A con trick is a con trick
Watch the play
Another angle, another drift
What if? What if?
Then move to the present
Unemployment rising,
Increased border crossing
Refugees , returnees
And don't forget
The deportees.
Holy Moses we are Sunk!
Run to the tax havens
Lets do a debunk.
See Ya!!
Categories:
brinks, business,
Form:
Rhyme
Written: September 24, 2023
_____________________________________________________________
In the dawn-like haze—a shriek was heard,
An echo so shrewd, yet birdless, oddly slurred
It was ordained by—a stratum unseen,
A throbbing coerce, a numen so keen.
A canticle flower—a bellow coarsely flung,
Through bosky drifts, those shadows clung.
The broken clavicle, brittle skull,
Doused in lacquer—a tale to annul.
Cried creative bone, from annals of time,
In a secluded hut—where lamina chime.
With guttural utterance—the gowk did sing,
Fluted notes on brinks of obsidian string.
Cloaked in the dimly lit mist, a canon of clamor,
Shaping the world with a mystic glamour.
In the glum of worship, a rite did splay,
As voices uttered—in a solemn display.
A corpse lay still, in the midst of the scene,
Dazzled by the entombing, a nebulous flesh serene.
Funerary hums—in syllabic verse,
Resonated through time, as a solemn curse.
In an urn—fugally adorned
With fugal melodies, the ashes were borne,
A symphony of sorrow, a requiem grand,
For the soul departed, to a distant land.
The misty air whispered—in mournful tones,
As the funerary procession made its way,
A solemn journey, through the mist, embrace.
To the final resting place, where shadows trace.
And so, the hum continued, a haunting refrain,
As the earth embraced the remains.
Silent and still—in eternal rest,
In the hallowed ground, the corpse was blessed.
Gone was the body, but the spirit remained,
A specter in the mist, forever ingrained.
A memory of life—a tale to be told,
In the echoes of time, where stories unfold.
In the depths of the mist, a legacy grew,
Of a life once lived, and the love that it knew.
The funerary hum—a reminder of grace,
As it carried the spirit to a heavenly place.
Categories:
brinks, analogy, angst, birth, death,
Form:
Rhyme
"To her, whose beauty eludes the charms of words"
I sat with her as she worked, trying to scribble some words on an innocent paper
The looks on her face captivated me, as the tip of her pen vomited its nectars
Her nose was shaped like a spear, or more so like the smoothness of her pen
And her enthusiastic words led me into her mind, the lioness's dark den!
Her lips were pouted with the knowledge which only she can wield
As her pen, more so like a sword, struck the paper like it's an enemy's shield
Her fingers strutted like the feet of an enchantress dancing to her own spell
And the deep look in her eyes led me, enticingly, to a deep well
Where her words spring from, where her heavenly styles fountain from
And inside that well lies a lightened pool and a gold plaited dorm
It is the silent world where she lives, her own skillful abode
From there comes the vibes of the songs that only she can behold
How beautiful she is whenever she sketches a poem--
Lies in depths of aesthetics which every poet learns
She is a beauty that mere words can not sketch
She is a big whale which a measly cup can not fetch
Then I thought to lift my voice and say..."Dalia..."
But before the thoughts reach the brinks of my lips
Another choice decided to just watch her fire
That scorches the book without burning any of its leaves!
Categories:
brinks, beauty,
Form:
Free verse
Born in the last decade of the old regime
Born a twain year before our unity to bear
All the flourishing devoid credos and pro-
phecies that foresaw our dark current futures
Possessed by omens and the Serpent’s seeds
Of rebellion bad tidings from anyplace
Were dropping and chances dwindle. In the
Intervening time storey-buildings bloomed
Eggheads rose to make the era theirs with
Funds diverted abroad to squeeze the brinks
The illuminated then urinate on the poor’s
Offspring to connect them to the State how
Blind is this society in total discordance
Categories:
brinks, change, patriotic, peace, philosophy,
Form:
Free verse
A Day
One day, one life
My life’s spent
Between two brinks
Of a day
The dawn when early birds
Catch the worms
Finds me still slumbering
Like a dead donkey
Until the sunbeams
Radiating in my room
Force my eyes to open.
Hour after hour I saunter
And my haunted body
Tangles.
Twilight finds me
Lying flat like an exhausted dog
When the two serviceable birds
Of the Heavens my useless life
Wraps and off they take.
What life do I live if not
That of servitude bound
To the shore of that Abode?
O Eve Merriam, tell me,
Is there a new day to change
and learn how to write?
N’Gaoundéré, 16th February 2010
Categories:
brinks, life,
Form:
Free verse
Poet trees
don't think
we cry ink...
eyes pink;
face
ta'
face
blink;
then
sink
to brinks
of Disgrace;
lips
trace mirrors
whole selling fears
we die here
souls
are sold this way
today
cut ties
with lies here
and Buy Here
Categories:
brinks, angst, confusion, depression, forgiveness,
Form:
Rhyme