Best Brushwood Poems

For a record,
A best friend covers your past from floating to the present life!
Though we also have,
Next-door friends!
Worldview friends!
Cross-culture friends!
Financial friends!
Devotion friends!
Close friends!
Friends with benefits!
Mentor...

Read more of this work...

Sunset sky was like a fiery red flame
Swarms in artfulness swirls and whorls and drawn 
Glorious heavenly feelings breeze came
Narrow wake trailing off with morning...

Read more of this work...

> What can I say that is good.
About jumping horses over high brush wood.

Wish I could think of something nice.
Sorry can't if I had all...

Read more of this work...

As a youngster he had dreamt of moving to a potato farm in Ireland

To escape from the brown rot of German post-world war II contamination

Just...

Read more of this work...

Touch would a finger to the elegant and smooth cheek
That shines from tears as apple leaves after rain
You weep with happiness, me and yourself do...

Read more of this work...

embellishing draft--
a stirring purple brushwood 
old chestnut falls back

10.31.16...

Read more of this work...

Smoke
Swirling, opaque puffs
Aimlessly adrift,
Float the predawn zephyrs.
Unsettled, this brushwood vagabond,
Looking slightly disoriented
As it seeks it's place to belong,
Or is expected to go.
It's existence, only,
Until disappearance.
...

Read more of this work...

I must build a shelter, to fight off the cold.               
A...

Read more of this work...

Some Tales of the Wildwoods
Oke Iroegbu

Once upon a Time
It was winter
And a night of bitter cold
The snow lay thick upon the ground
And upon the branches...

Read more of this work...

I see the evergreen live oaks in my backyard as old wise souls 
Cosmic storehouses of wisdom, integrity and strength from the source 
They stand...

Read more of this work...

October’s Pretence. 
Rain, nature is greening, but it’s a false spring; December will 
pale the land into submission. Do not write poetry till February, 
when...

Read more of this work...

October’s Pretence. 
Rain, nature is greening, but it’s a false spring; December will 
pale the land into submission. Do not write poetry till February, 
when...

Read more of this work...

My green autumn, you goaded me to write.
I love the way you sparkle, shake, and hurl.
Conquering my mind day and by the night,
Always musing about...

Read more of this work...

Below cool cotton rippled sky pale
Barren limbs hang so helpless in the mild gale 
Sunlight dances before it sleeps
Early winter’s calling for all to keep...

Read more of this work...

Out of summer dawn breaks the hungry song,
of wide-mouthed swallows; mothers soar along.
Fly with hapless moths in tow, swift make haste
to brushwood nests, which stretch...

Read more of this work...