Walking with caulking
Putting some bricks together
A new beginning
we are known in the neighborhood
as guardians of the bricks
we take our position seriously
deciding who enters
and who leaves
or if they do
we are all the things you think we are
magical, mystical,
ethereal, protective,
staunch and opinionated
if you treat us well, we will let you treat us again
if you do not, the wrath of the cat queen will be along shortly.
Red brick walls of the highest quality,
hell or high water the last one standing.
My resilience never rubber-banding,
high dollar construction’s a shield for me.
No need to fight what I was meant to be,
always protected while I’m expanding.
A harsh silhouette that is commanding
up close still appears rock hard easily.
With this architecture of solitude
the strategy can be hidden from view.
Glass windows only added to the top
tend to come off as aloof attitude.
Crippling loneliness can overtake you,
let someone in if you wish it to stop.
MORE THAN BRICKS AND MORTAR
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
inside the closet
faded photographs
a lifetime etched on smiling faces
the echo of lives lived here
the weight of belonging
familiar ache in the hollow of my chest
place where I’m known and loved
imperfectly, completely
*Note: Poem originally published Poetry Soup in June 2025 but then deleted. (poetrysoup.com/poem/more_than_brick_and_mortar_1739868) This is my original poem.
when you throw a red brick who do you harm?
an ant, a beetle, a ladybug full of insect charm?
down in the grasses lives a village after all
They might not be vocal or loud or six-feet tall
but be very careful and put those hard bricks away
it is mean to kill, and what would the snake king say?
Ding dong, bing bong…
When it comes to this leadership… moron, Looney Tune, lunatic, dumber than a sack of bricks, umm… yep, sounds about right.
Toto could pull off some really neat tricks
He could do more than bark at green chicks
With the lift of a leg
After slurping a keg
He could make miles of yellow road bricks
Written: June 08, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I carefully molded the clay
Created from the depths of my soul
A structure that would allow me to shield
From the fear of unloving gazes.
Oh, what a vast structure I constructed
It would let me safely unravel
Avoid risks and fears
Beyond the perils of emotion
and fervent tears.
I felt chilly and lonesome in my cocoon
It was awaiting structure annihilation
Remove all barriers and discard them
I realized there had been a few
I was previously unaware of it.
I explicitly acknowledged it later
I ventured where I previously wouldn't
I'm immensely overjoyed
Since I gained a friend
We discussed every nuance
Except for the building's layout.
Is your house built out of certainty
are the walls made thin or stout
Is your mind filled up with questions
do you live in fear or doubt
Is your spirit free or servile
is your will unchained or slave
Is your heart the trowel you build with
and love
— the bricks you lay
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
Brick by brick, I built this home,
each piece with purpose, in which it owns.
It was the hardest task I ever did face,
As I made sure everything was in its right place.
Yet, suddenly, my house collapsed, tumbling to the ground.
My heart started drumming, I felt every pound.
Confused by the aftermath, and all the destruction in sight,
what caused this to happen, I pondered through the night?
Was it the weight of my burdens too heavy to bear?
Or the cracks in my foundation, too deep to repair?
I stood amidst the rubble, feeling lost and alone,
wondering how to rebuild what was once my home.
But as I sifted through debris, a realization grew
that sometimes I must let go and build something new.
Through destruction, there lies something beautiful underneath,
just believe in yourself and let your heart guide your feet.
Remembering that sometimes good things rest in a pit
and faith holds the purpose that mortars each brick.
Higher and higher,
brick by brick.
Snapped together
makes them stick.
Green on the bottom
then blue, then red.
Add one more block,
take it down instead.
Maybe a white one,
or maybe a black.
Who knows how high
I can make them stack?
When I am done,
I will let you know.
So, just let me play
with my Lego.
When people love to criticize
Please do not stay there long
Quit that spot by being wise
Or else you may prove wrong
When your efforts are not lauded
Instead when they are attacked
Then, only agonies get added
Happiness can never be tracked
When only criticisms badly flow
And terrific opposition is there
To smartly exit, you must know
Or else you will suffer, dear sir
When too many rules are quoted
With really no good intention at all
Your original talent gets cremated
Then in a deadly trap, you just fall
Never give serious attention to that
Where your genius is easily buried
In case you love to develop regret
Listen to the discouraging deed.
Laying brick by brick, with stickum in between.
A stone on top of another: dream quest and scene,
erected diligently, with a blueprint at the ready.
Each dot and line progression is sure and steady.
Despite storms, hurdles, and limited funding
With slow but steady aims, slanted rashly cunning,
with optimism, sharing in God's dream design.
Adversity shapes us to strive rather than repine.
God's will is a bunker, so every lesson is a brick
His word is final, and the walls of the friary are thick
Our foundation is the cornerstone of our existence
Lord God, the ruler of men, smooths the essence.
I savor being amazed; trust my full autonomy.
A heart full of hope gives way to honesty.
It's optimistic, soul-strengthening, and simple.
We stir up lies, and our ignorance is sinful.
Our love shrinks our hatred with each pulse.
It's tough to stay aside; must veins convulse?
I'm not sure what they'll do if we meet to shine.
Our passion for each other will be closer to fine.
Written: February 16, 2023
Closer To Fine Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Jan 9 2023 poem
Heavy
My body
Is bricks
My breath
Shallow
I sink
Deeper
Too Heavy
For My legs
To hold Me
Thoughts
Like a
Weighted blanket
Trapped and
Tingling
Too Heavy
Helplessly
Sinking
-Amanda carden
Yeah, you're not Europe
but there's enchantment
in your bricks
so poetically stacked
into sundry shops, bustling bars
and sidewalk cafes
even your courthouse
and church
approach the grandeur
of those across the pond
A nomad I roam
for months
sometimes years
but always come back
to haunt your streets
and stairways
I don't have a Caledonia
I don't love you
or hold you when I'm gone
but I feel you calling
just the same
and feel your embrace
when I return
my favorite port
we'll have some fun
but even as I sit here
on my favorite bench
(in your loving arms)
and adore my favorite bricks
my mind's on distant shores
planning my next escape
I'll write a poem in this cafe
and caress your curvy sidewalks
and stairways with steps of gratitude
I'm here
I have you
what a lucky man
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