Brother(A) Poems - Poems about Brother(A)

Angola Silence

Angola Silence  (Renku)


In a silent mood
Await the pure white horses
To draw the carriage 

Someday comes my turn
Laid amidst the other graves
Angola will reign 

Carry a brother 
Dispense final dignity
In this place of pain 

I AM GREEN

    I love the colour of my skin,
    Au naturel suave evergreen.
    From head to toe, and deep within,
    Each part of me, feels so serene.
    Even the bristles, on my chin,
    Tonsured daily, smooth shaven clean.

To my big brother

Roses may be red
And violets blue
But one thing for sure
Is my life is sad without you

You will never get to see me grow
As your time came and you had to go

So here is a promise to you my big brother
I promise to always protect our mother
I will comfort her when she’s feels sad
I hope that

Untitled

:)

BURPS

Miriam Millicent Mannerheim-Merps
Loved calling her two younger brothers, twerps
After she had her first child
Both were very sweet and mild
But when baby nursed, they crooned her with burps.

My Brother's Book

My brother’s book deserves a look
And not just for the time it took,
But for the family tree he shook
To show the need to strive.

His characters are loosely based
On relatives whose lives he traced
From foreign lands ‘til they embraced
New homes when they’d arrive.

The story’s universal, though,
For as they settle and they grow,
We realize how much we

MY BROTHER AND I

My brother and I,
while choosing a name for my nephew,
tried hard to think of something unique—
something with variety and charm.
“Tractor” was the first choice,
then came “Tumbler,”
and we fell breathless with laughter,
comparing impossible things—
his eyes to stretching bubblegum.
We joked about how his name
might sound when he grew older.
Laughs and tears rolled down our cheeks.

SIBLING REMEMBRANCES

SIBLING REMEMBRANCES*
In the warm, sunlit corners of our childhood
where laughter spills like marbles across the floor,
I hear the echoes of our shared secrets,
each whispered promise a thread woven into the fabric
of our youthful days.

We were explorers,
mapping the terrain of our backyard kingdom,
with sticks as swords, the garden hose our river,
where we splashed and shrieked,
the world

Soul of a child

My twin was delusional, he thought he was a star
He told me people recognized him, near and far
Strangers gave him thumbs up, pretty women smiled
Within him they saw the soul of a child.

I said "Jerry, no offense, you are poor at conversation
People yawn, go away, for the dialog duration
You lack warmth, enthusiasm, any vital spark
You're

Full Glass

You came through quiet and refreshing like a gentle spring breeze. Far away enough from winter’s dreary wear, and soon upon us like the brightness of the summer sun. Just as days passed into years and years into decades, the time with you seemed to be a slow-motion blink, the kind where you have a

Michael, My Brother

Your smile is like the moon all silver lined,
I wanted to be by you, time after time.
Your love for sports was quite unreal,
But you never gave up that rid and reel.

Your humour was loved, loved by us all,
But your laugh was the best, best of it all.
I watched when you became a man and you

Untitled

Brother, 
you have the 
strength of a 
dragon and the 
soul of a 
poet. 

Your Smile Is As Cute As A Baby Seal's

Your smiles frozen over,
and you stand tall above the water
like an iceberg, so tall and elegant
in your presentation.

But surface-level trickery
can’t fool or satiate
my scuba diver
curiosity.

I see through your
poorly constructed ruse.

I prep my gear,
dive deep into your ocean,
and discover that underneath
the surface-level beauty lies dormant
a bummock of cuts and bruises.

The true nature of things,
the true nature

the possession of a vessel

the possession of a vessel 
      

a cradle call
a steady fall
a empty cost
and all's lost

a candle care
a random share
a fullness last
and all's cast

a constant claim 
a longing name
a least of more 
and all's before

a costly care 
a vessel rare
an emptied full
and all's pull

a cradle claim
a constant name
a candle fair 
a

Taiwan, My Brother

In the flowing scroll of time, said Confucius, blood remembers where it came from. The mountain does not forget the stone, nor does the sea deny its river. You, Taiwan—jade carved from the same dragon—why drift like a petal in foreign wind?

Does not the moon rise over both your skies? Do not ancestors whisper from

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