When we were kids, you liked to torment me, go to the park and climb the highest tree.
Run across gullies at high speed, leave me on the other side with shaking knees.
But then there were days by the TV watching Banana splits and Christopher Lee.
Going to the fields to hide in long grass then run round the streets and fall on our ****.
We moved like gypsies from place to place, new schools, new people, we accepted our fate.
The boy with the golden hair was by my side and I wasn’t lonely cause we were best mates.
Then came the day we no longer roamed, found schools with good teachers, at last we were home.
We got on our bikes to explore the estate; cautious and wary we sped round the place.
To our surprise the kids were friendly and fun, not hostile or tough, or in your face.
Young ones, older ones, boys and girls, down by the brook all summer long.
Through escapades, bonfires, occasional tiffs, the Steppingstone gang stayed strong.
It's already been a month.
I am stuck in one place,
yet they march forward.
They are so content
to keep marching forward.
I can't figure out how
it's only been a month, and
I can't march. Can't speak.
I can't find it in me to move forward.
I can't march. Can't speak.
it's only been a month, and
I can't figure out how.
to keep marching forward.
they are so content
yet they march forward.
I am stuck in one place,
It's already been a month.
Soft sun that I can't feel,
Tell me that this isn't real.
Wind whipping at the ends of my hair,
But it doesn't linger there--
No, it doesn't linger there.
I could walk down the same streets, could
Play songs you like on repeat,
But it doesn't linger there--
No, it doesn't linger there.
Metallic and violent, blood on my tongue,
Am I immature, or am I just young?
These things I do, my day-to-day,
Nothing makes it go away.
I carry it with me, heavy like a burden,
Leaning hard against the railing,
Folding in,
I'm folding in,
Wishing I would have lingered in the doorway;
Maybe I wouldn't miss you so much that way.
Standing one foot in, the other out,
I don't even remember what we talked about.
Heavy like a weight,
I can't set you down in this state,
Deformed and misshapen,
Because I didn't linger there--
No, I didn't linger there.
He washed his hands.
Of her and us.
And we were sluiced into the Irish Sea.
On a rough tide.
Whilst the gentleness of the Yorkshire Dales embraced him.
Again.
Clinging to each other and the flotsam of the incoming tide we were swept back to shore, blistered, weathered, but together.
A successful navigation to land, prevailing with fortune and fortitude.
Onshore our journeys continued but in differing directions, scarred by the experience, new land to explore.
New lives.
Ever changed we reunite to recount, reminisce, a newness added on each telling.
The scarring still exists the flesh tears, the salt burns, but every now and then the flag is hauled,
the sail thrown open to the wind and we sail, the waters stiller, navigable.
Harbours now, each open to protect from choppy oceans.
A safe mooring.
A hydro engine, Myer made'
It put car makers in the shade.
He was soon to die
Cause filed, vauge suspected.'
Just a ( stroke of bad luck.?)
Or murder directed.?
you want to leave?
even though i stayed for you?
you know
i could’ve been something
i could’ve been good
instead i just hate you
but still let you pull
and push and push
i edure, i endure
like a fool
like a fool, like a fool
i endure
Jesus is our Brother
We are the broken cisterns
Jesus says “Come drink freely
From the Fountain Head” all listeners
Jesus is our Friend
Praises to Him sing
Jesus is our Savior
He’s our Prophet, Priest and King
He sees the seeing of all
He knows the knowing of all
He knows everything
So when you hear His call
Let’s glorify the Lord in all we say and do
Now change the "i" to an "o"
And look away from sin to The Son
And pray to the Tri-unity of the Three-in-One
On Saturday afternoons long ago, when cartoons faded from the TV’s glow
A teenager earned a modest pittance, to finish the week with his remittance
From coins for cans and chores to do, the basement became the work place too
A weekly ritual dust and sweep, and memories were polished for us to keep
Years rolled on yet still there lies, a wooden shelf with the writing of “pizza flies”
A phrase half-lost, a family thread, echoing something once misread
From allowance paid to words unclear, the past returns as I sit here
In chores, in jokes, we had a good time, it’s these small moments of which I write
Dear Brother.
You used to be so alive- the ever-frantic butterfly.
Lightning-quick-witted, with a warm summer smile.
Always pulling little brother up from the pigsty.
Now you're hobbled by disease and age.
The expanse of your galaxy shrinking.
To the size of a porta potty and a word search page.
You've donated your trusty old car to charity.
How far can one travel with a turtle's cane?
Are you caving in on life or is life caving in on you?
The glitter of youth has taken on a much duller hue.
Fate has placed you into the black heart of a landslide.
I can do nothing but watch as you go over the side.
I don't have your strength to lift you up from this stye.
Dear brother, I fear that you've abandoned your mind.
Both stubborn, more hardheaded
compromise was defeat
Never wrong but seldom right
enjoy the arguing
Could talk all day about nothing
but someone went left
the other stay right
Words exchanged but never violently
loud and profound each believed
the other thought the other nuts
Never met in the middle
divided by sides
Yet each looked forward to the times
they could met and converse
everything to anything under the Sun
Been awhile since I last saw him
would set at our spot waiting
but he never showed
One day his sister Tess walked by
Liam was not expected to live
Thanked her and gave sympathies
Did not see him, just could not go
strange I felt betrayed
Miss the funeral, couldn't do it
could not make myself go
A year after his death
I visited his grave
I left a stone engraved with two words
Peace Brother.
Silence does not win the argument he barked.
Nothing more can be said after victory I replied.
Come now brother, lay your head.
The gates swing wide.
Your name is printed in the book of life.
Where demons no longer abide.
The mat on which you laid no longer restrains.
What you endured in the end,
What others saw with saddened eyes,
Is not what I know will ascend.
No smell of smoke and ash for you, my brother.
No gnawing of teeth or tearing of clothes.
No sufferance, no gripe.
No picking of flesh from vultures and crows.
You’ll be in clear skies and streets of gold.
Our mother to embrace and earthly father to see.
Distant, loving friends all gathered,
With love…oh the love and grace you will receive.
Sounds of trumpets blasts open the gates.
A loving embrace of a warming light.
“Well done my son,” Whispered in your ear,
A kiss upon your cheek from He who has all might.
No heavy weight, no broken stride,
Just open arms and perfect rest.
The long dark night is finally gone.
Peace to you, my brother; peace, my love, I profess.
In the sun-washed corners of childhood,
light gathered gently,
and like marbles,
laughter rolled loose across the floor.
We learned the first language of closeness~
small secrets traded like treasures,
each one stitching us into the same early story.
We wandered our backyard world
as if it were vast, unchartered, and unnamed,
drawing borders with sticks,
letting the garden hose become a river
that carried our shouts downstream.
Hours blurred into water and sky,
and time slipped past us
with the ease of sand falling
from into an hourglass
You colored everything
turning ordinary days
into wild invention.
I followed the bright arc
of your imagination,
gathering its shadows,
spinning them into tales
that stretched themselves
far beyond the fence line.
Now, standing at the quiet edge
of my grown life,
I still carry your laughter~
a small weightless charm
against the heaviness of days.
You remain my true north,
steady in every remembered moment,
every thread woven carefully
into the fabric of the life we shared.
My Husband's Brother
Has no care for another
11 years of nothing but Hell
Your brother just figures oh well
My story the world will know
And everyone will see your brother as low
You will have no one to blame
Except your brother who came
To ruin everything we built
Over 11 years it is time to quit
Thank your brother for it all
When there is no one left to call
After 11 years of your brother's Hell
Me and my cats will tell
The whole world and ring the bell
All about your brother's living Hell
Our 35 years of marriage he has ended
Never again to be mended
Hello to my heart, happiness is here.
Hello to the Earth, happiness suits me.
Hello Santa Claus,
Carry my dreams to the sky.
Hello to the cat who always purrs,
Here is the caress of my velvet hand.
Hello my friend, you offer me a toy,
You awaken in me the desire to share.
Hello child, you will be my brother or my sister,
You brighten my eyes with sweetness.
Hello my parents,
One day I too will be grown.
Hello house, you protect me from winter,
You keep my whole universe.
Hello forest,
You offer us so much beauty.
Hello dance, hello song,
You cradle my child’s kingdom.
Hello wind, hello sun,
In one word or a hundred, you amaze me, you awaken me.
From the moon to the stars that sparkle,
Happiness is a cry of the heart like no other.
Hello to my heart, happiness is here.
Hello to the Earth, happiness suits me.
Joël Charvillat
The act that might get to be passed will put real Americans last.' Its really clear the evil that will be.' They want to remove
Your cash so you are less free.' They are
Counting up your assets, and just digital
Tokens is what ( you might get?) Or you
Might not get even to see, the mundane
Obects that ate intended to exert influence over every point of your physical
Reality.!
Brother Categories
Read wonderful brother poetry on the following sub-topics:
big brother, birthday, funeral, funny, heaven, i love you, i miss my, little brother, little sister,
and more.
Definition | What is Brother in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.