"As the greatest of all poets and musicians,
tho' you may call me 'liar',
Hermes may have invented it
but I perfected the lyre
and with my music and singing
if only I could see
the forest for the trees
I would coax the woods to dance for me
but, on the other hand
from where I stand,
it appears to be,
looking at it from all angles,
nothing but nettles, brambles
and both
briars and tangles,"
quoth he, Orpheus in the undergrowth.
Some may imagine Paris in the Spring;
Champagne kisses that heat love's burning flame.
Some say romance dies with a wedding ring.
Oh, but I believe that is such a shame.
Too often it's confused, true love and lust,
as well as what sweet romance truly means.
Two become one, in bone, in blood, in trust,
commitment, one thing romance supervenes.
Not only whirlwinds, thunder beating breast;
lusts that burn to ash in tongues of fire.
It's the gentle caress, your lovers breath,
in loving both the rose and the briar.
Romance, is in everyday little things,
from seeds sown through the years that bloom in Spring.
We’d go exploring along the river and through the woods,
We’d run, and we’d whoop, then go silently to try and see a rabbit if we could.
We’d push through all the briar and the bramble,
Then chase each other in one big scramble.
We’d get covered in mud and was soaking wet,
Then we’d try to hide from other people, those that we didn’t want to meet.
We’d be out there all day and we would drink from a sparking stream,
We’d still be there as it got dark, but we knew when to go, it was when we heard our mum scream out, IT’s TIME FOR TEA!!
From the thistle and vine
From the thicket of thorn
Into the light of the morning
Out from the briar patch, gone
In a flicker of light
Into the glimmer of dawn
Slipping out at the daybreak
With the rise of the sun
In the ticking of time
From the clock on the wall
Ring the bells of a new day
Sing the words of this song
As the cripple creek winds
Along the bend in the road
Through the cut of the canyon
Through the layers of stone
In the literal mind
Of the words as they're known
Comes the turn of a new phrase
Twisted off an old one
Down from the rain in the sky
Onto the earth where it falls
Through the Rock of the Ages
Through the Roll of the Souls
In the blink of an eye
In the wink of one more
Slipping back in the nightfall
By the light of the stars
Bring the whistle and rhyme
Into the twisted knot hole
Another day in a lifetime
Back to the briar patch, gone
with thorn of a rose
she pricked a finger tip
held it there softly
to my open lips
as she pierced mine
mixed the flow
tip to tip
and each took
a little sip
such a heady mix
sweet as wine
my love’s blood
mingled with mine
from a finger
cut and torn
with briar rose’s
sharp sharp thorn
Diamonds on her fingers. Diamonds in her nose.
She’s dancing in the street, our little Briar Rose.
Her hair is a twirling, as if it is glittery and on fire.
Her energy is amazing; she will never tire.
The neighbors are smiling, and stamping their feet.
They love our Briar Rose, her clogging can’t be beat.
Some run out to join her. They are having so much fun!
It’s amazing to watch our daughter turning everyone!
I Have a Yong Suster
(anonymous Medieval English riddle-poem, circa 1430)
translation by Michael R. Burch
I have a young sister
Far beyond the sea;
Many are the keepsakes
That she sent me.
She sent me the cherry
Without any stone;
And also the dove
Without any bone.
She sent me the briar
Without any skin;
She bade me love my lover
Without longing.
How should any cherry
Be without a stone?
And how could any dove
Be without a bone?
How should any briar
Be without a skin?
And how could I love my lover
Without longing?
When the cherry was a flower,
Then it had no stone;
When the dove was an egg,
Then it had no bone.
When the briar was unborn,
Then it had no skin;
And when a maiden has her mate,
She is without longing!
Briar that climbs the Willow Tree
Higher it grows every summer
It captures my imagination see
Briar that climbs the Willow Tree
Somehow ruins my flight to fantasy
Disrupts thoughts and is a sandspur
Briar that climbs the Willow Tree
Higher it grows every summer
Sponsor: Michael J. Falotico
Contest: Boomerange contest...send a poem for a ride
green briar leaves shine
'pon Chinaberry's bare limbs..
untouched by winter
We've slogged through bog and briar.
To coddle the pond "tranquility".
This emerald within an emerald
of tender water~ lily harmony.
Indian paintbrush to whisk a memory.
Winged flutes seep gently from maple trees.
Her sweetened songs will tear the eye.
If you let it be-just let it be.
The sun glances of the endless green.
Speckles it with flakes of gold.
Soon shadows of the great unknown,
will chime it's time to head back home.
So, we leave thorned but blissful.
Eaten alive by this humble Eden.
Can we ever coddle happiness again?
Garnish both bog and briar.
Tangled in a briar of wires
Securing twists from a pair of pliers.
Seated neatly in the center,
Waiting for the next to enter.
With no one else to share the space,
I’d disappear without a trace.
Together we would have such fun,
Waiting for the cut and run.
And should that time ere come to pass,
We’ll pour ourselves another glass.
And talk of things that have gone on,
While waiting for the break of dawn.
For evil invention takes its spark,
While left waiting in the dark.
But with only one other hand to hold,
All thoughts are turned back on the bold.
When hearts beat true, strong and brave,
It's always you that I will save.
And if our souls should start to mend,
We’ll fight it to the very end.
While Revelation waits out back,
It’s the Genesis I clearly lack.
The red petals that whisper her desire
She is my rose amid the wild briar
Her velvet white reveals her loving heart
In breaths that linger on a summer’s night
To tempt the senses where love’s passions start
Imploring dreams to taste the buds delight.
My rose, that is pure white yet tipped with red,
She offers me her tender, sweetest kiss,
In silent words that lips have left unsaid,
She grants me peace within her loving bliss.
(Or How My Legs Got This Way)
Bre’r Rabbit had his briar patch
A lovely place but there’s a catch
The briars and brambles cut and scratch
And it was there I met my match
We downed a model airplane there
It simply fell out of the air
We ventured in with utmost care
For it had landed who knows where
The briars and brambles had no path
They grabbed our legs with fervent wrath
And gave our legs a real bloodbath
Now you can see the aftermath
Mdailey 6/7/11
If I could post a picture you would see bloody scratches all over my lower legs. With
my chemo, I don't heal as fast as I used to. My doctor said to stay out of the briars
as my blood will not clot very fast and I could lose a lot of blood. Duh!