Brier Poems | Examples

The Crows Are Singing

Now it is dark January and the crows are singing.
A river runs through my heart,
where thoughts drown too soon.

My mind plucks old green hats,
out of the frosted air.
the hats belong to dead leprechauns,
doppelgangers lost at sea, trying to get here,
to be me.

Sometimes the sky is too brilliant,
it hurts old wounds.
Today the sky is a grey gun,
and as hard as gallstones.

January tramples over snowmen
scatters then into phantom blizzards
or stickmen, holy thorns of dark brier
crowning their twig-pointed heads.

Soon this freeze-framed pantomime,
will be known as February.
The birds will die and recover,
and so shall I.

Winter Hawks

An advent of raptors loiters over mall roofs.
hooded eyes scope the neon-lit spaces,
the concreted waste lands.

We wake to their screams as if this were High Sierra,
not Ohio where parent’s try-out or manage children,
open party stores, hunker through the coming
and going of baby Jesus; de-ice puffer jackets.

Gloom is plowed behind snow dunes.
The red-tails roam in loose federations,
their young, mob-handed and loutish,
the mature work alone,
scything through small birds,
the weakened and walking.

The hawks wing-dance proclaiming their time,
a time of frost-bitten electric barricades,
of bobble hats and mittens,

while unseen, a wind-rattled thorny brier,
recites its litany of seasonal prayers.

Upon the Heath

After the greedily laden cirrus' lighten their loads,
a dog day returns to our suburban sanctuary.
As the mercury ascends like a climber captured in a glass tube,
the heath's heady aromas revoke our remorse.
Tangled brier and spiky scrub emit their balm:
a conspicuously redolent cocktail of coconut and cabbage.
Backlit baubles of liquid sunshine dazzle the view,
while defying gravity on their barbed roosts.
Suspended above the sodden, verdant heath, like an ethereal spirit,
another cloud hangs low, as if a subterranean lava lake -
once dormant - has been aroused from its viscous langour.
The transient torrent which incited the tribes to take refuge -
now passed - invites its flock to flood back onto the pasture.

Flowers Talk

Hear sad whispers from the valley,
Their mournful song surround, 
Lone lily lost its luck lately, 
For grief, its petals bound. 

Feel your false fear following you, 
Cautious words genuine, 
A black dahlias danger rings true,
Heed these words or your ruin. 

Taste of madness wrath invoke,
Things said to fuel the fire, 
Dance tiger lily to provoke, 
White hot rage cuts like a brier. 

Sights of delight beyond belief, 
Hopeful things I find here, 
Yellow daffodils sing a rief, 
Love eternal spring cheer.

Einnoc

Commendable is your taste of beauty, dear Einnoc!
Your greetings always as day makers appear, Einnoc!

The faces you put on wall are always astounding
To the fragrance of your flowers, I adhere; Einnoc!

Devotion to fine feelings of friends is first for you
That's something of great value, you ain't austere; Einnoc!

You always bring smile to everyone's face you talk to
Though I know your life is hard, like a dry brier, Einnoc!

You're a Filipina with international heart
And to make the world happy is your career, Einnoc!

I'm lucky that I have such a friend in your person
It's so hard to find friends whose hearts are sincere, Einnoc!

August 08, 2022

Un Bel Di

Dark brier grow thick in Cleveland,
thorny tendrils thrive.
Clapperboard homes slack and linger,
neglected yards grow thin grey bones.

A vaporous wave passed over Lake Erie.
None noticed the lightless seeds in the sunlight,
but little girls went missing.

Whole neighborhoods searched other places
no one thought the monster hid among them.
Detective Puccini grinds his jaw behind the wheel
of an old Cadillac.
Red cracked leather creaks as he reaches
for a brown-bagged vodka bottle.

He knows the girls are near;
at night as he sleeps, he hears them,
they cry for help under their breath
least their captor overhear.

Today Puccini takes out
a sledgehammer from the trunk of his car
he's intends to tear down any dark-eyed house
until one fine day
he hears the girls again.

~~~~~~~~

https://abcnews.go.com/US/cleveland...-berry-gina-dejesus-journey/story?id=67858538

A Warm Serene Shore

At dawn I arrive on a warm welcoming shore
Having struggled through hedges of brier and thorn
Alone and wounded and resigned and broken
At dawn I arrive on a warm welcoming shore
All despair has fled, now my spirit's awoken
The tide’s tame hollow rumble is gently spoken
At dawn I arrive on a warm serene shore
Having struggled through hedges of brier and thorn

Written 1/16/22
Triolet Old Or New Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
8/23/22

The Gardener

He counts roots and tendrils,
delves deep into his tillage,
some plantings have escaped
and he wonders to where?

He seeks for the once planted,
finds them, reveals again the beauty
even in the wilderness blooms.

There are many flowers to tend to;
without this inner garden
he might only be an old clay pot.

So he gardens,
waters the ones that have turned
into brier and thorns, after all

he has kept them for a long time,
and some wake him in the night
demanding his attention
even yet.

A Better Tomorrow

To have illusions of what should have been
And wander through the thorned brambles of time
To seek tomorrow can bring its own sin
When we forget mountains this day we climb
The wistful dreamer in the mind this day
Will allow the dream to slowly evolve
Although the darkest thought can bring dismay
The problems we face we can always solve
Lets dream of what's beyond the farthest hill
It's a reason to climb what lays before
And reach the summit a need to fulfill
To stand a top what we have struggled for
The deepest depth of our fervent desire
Is to escape from our heart's thorny brier

9/27/20 contest A Better Tomorrow

The Gardener

He remembers the dead planted in his head,
he counts roots and tendrils,
some go missing,
and he wonders where?

He used to garden when he had a garden,
so he looks for the once planted,
sees his friends and lovers and all the others
as sunflowers and snapdragons, also 
wilderness blooms.

Memory has its own way to nourish,
it can also dead-head, even uproot,
but there are many blooms in his head.
He wonders that without this inner garden
he might be just an empty garden pot.

So he tends to them, 
even the ones that have turned
into brier and thorns, after all 

he has kept them for a long time,
maybe they wake him in the night
for a reason still.

Brier Patch

WITH CONCERNS THAT ONLY BENIFETS HER THOUGHTS AND VEIWS OF WHO SHE Wishes TO MARRY
SHE IGNORED THE NEEDS OF HER LOVER TO CONSULT WITH HIM WHO SHE HAD MADE SECRET AND UNKNOWN TO HER HUSBAND
SHE LACKED THE CONCERN OF A LOVING WIFE
AND LACKED THE CONCERN OF A PERSON WHO BELEIVED IN CAUSE AND EFFECT
HER VENGENCE WAS SEAMED IN THE MELMS OF THE CLOTHES SHE WORE
THEN AND THAT WHICH WOULD MAKE HIM FURIUOS HE KNEW NOTHING OF.
MIGHT HE WHO IS UNKNOWN REMAIN UNKNOW
UNTIL MY WORDS SHALL MAKE MY HUSBAND BEG ME ON HIS KNEES AS IGNORANT, THAT THIS SECRET MIGHT DESTROY HIM.
THOSE THAT WHO RESPECT HIM SHALL DESPISE HIM, THOSE WHO ADORE HIM SHALL MAKE HIM UNWANTED AND  MIGHT THEY BRAG OF HIS DESTRUCTION
MIGHT THOSE WAYS I HAVE TREATED HIM, MAKE SCRIPT FOR HIS FUTURE AND HOW OTHER MIGHT TREAT AND VEIW HIM
THAT I AM WOAMN AND MY BODY HAS BEEN LOVED BY OTHERS
I SHALL BE VEIWED AS WORST OF EVILEST

The Trios

Lofty crafts of sensational creations, 
Oily traits dripping affections
Vulnerable hearts somersaulting
Evisaging allusive hyperbole. 

Damped dance, complex steps
Elating destruction with a breath
Acreage littered with confetti of gloom
Tainted trails, dainty doom
Hood hoisted, deep-six in hell. 

Track embroidered with bramble brier 
Innuendos of choices chunk at men
Mid-way mediator of the turbulent twain
End of love, beginning of death. 
19:10:04:14:40

Miracle At the Pond

Drink deep the gathering dawn
The pond is a stone throw away
Over a cold road twisting narrow
Turned muddy by mixing rain
Fawns must bow before they drink
Genuflect in genuine reverence
Reflect nature on clear water
Mirror the surface of all things
Be clever beyond all imaginings
There where life cuts like a knife 
Deer jump over brier to escape
Arrows miss and hunters go hungry
But the pond reaches out to refresh
Including those who missed their mark today
Let us prey

Bramble, Brier, Thistle and Thorn

Build me a mountain of uncertainty,
A stone of distant fears
Find me an army of losses
And empty hopes,
Some cluster of aimless hours to call my own.
Teach me about heartache and closed doors.
A broken way with nothingness in every direction.
Create in me a heavy heart, 
full of misunderstandings and distrust
to keep me hurt and forever confused.

Trump Forever Will Fume

Trump Forever Will Fume

In room in Mira Lago Trump will fume,
And he is an idiot  who likes to bloom;
In each place,
A basket case;
Each day deeper does appear his doom.

Jim Horn

Write some poems using these 
words below.

acquire ecclesiastical attire 
bier brier buyer choir crier 
denier desire dire drier empire 
entire expire fire friar higher 
hire inquire liar mire prior  
require retire sire spire squire 
supplier tire transpire trier 
vampire wire

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