Brumley Poems | Examples

A Message In a Bottle

Castaway in the isles of obscurity
I pen my diary in blood
Encased within poetic bottles
And cast them on the temporal winds
Into the sea of humanity.

It is an act of desperation
That perchance in time
There on some distant shore 
Some passerby might find them
And in finding them read them
And by reading them discover me.

And so I sire my own little castaways
Bearing witness of their author
A message in a bottle
In search of that coincidental jury
Who having reviewed the evidence
Might find me guilty of life.


Timothy I. Brumley

The Masterpiece

If we were the things we loved, then...

I would be the shine in puppies eyes
Or a cuddled kitten's purr,
I would be a great novel or poem
Or, the smell of grandmother's house.

I would be the autumn sun upon my face
And the smell of springtime blossoms too,
I would be an infants cackling laughter
And, his mother's ample breast.

I would be the passion in a rutting Buck
And the pining of the whippoorwill's call,
Or the chipmunk that dashes across my yard
And, the morning hawk that catches him!

I would be the scent before an evening shower
And the distant rumble of a storm,
Or a sea shore on a morning's walk
And, a painted evening prairie sky.

I would be a swirling murmur of starlings 
And the evening chant of tree frogs,
I would be the smell of my mother's cooking
And, the sound of my children's laughter.

If we were the things we loved
Then I would be all of these, and more
But I'm not, instead I'm just me
They're the brushstrokes of the masterpiece...

And I, but the eager canvas.



Timothy I. Brumley

The Cornerstone

I had a dream
But I dreamt it on clay
And it crumbled in the morning rain.

I envisioned still other dreams
Those reflected dimly on the surface of my desire
But they always vanished with a touch.

I borrowed another man's dream once
But it grew homesick
And flew away after awhile.

Then I caught a wild dream from the woods
But it lost it's will to live
So I let it go.

I went to buy a dream
But they were all whitewashed counterfeits
Nightmares in disguise.

I have to build a dream that will last
But first, I need a cornerstone
I need but a single kiss.

Not a kiss of papier-mâché
Nor of sandstone, or crumbling clay
But of Granite!

Or, perhaps even of diamond
One strong enough to pierce this calloused heart
I need that kiss....

A kiss to build a dream on.


Timothy I. Brumley

A Yarn of Leprechauns

Come hear me yarn of leprechauns
A thieving little folk,
That left me laying by me pond
Asleep beneath me oak.

They came about the midnight hour
To lay me cupboard bare,
And then they used their magic powers
Me vision to impair.

They ate me apples I had dried
And hung there in the sun,
Then took me crumpets that I fried
And even got me buns!

As if them apples weren't enough
Me pecans vanished too,
The devils even pinched me snuff
Before the raid was through.

They danced about on moonlit beams
Then scampered 'cross me rug,
That's when the rascals came it seems
'Twas halfway through me jug!


Timothy I. Brumley

Now Comes the Rain

Dark clouds infuse the evening sky
And blot the sun out by and by,
Then comes a hush across the glen 
As mother earth prepares to cry.

Now comes the cool and gusting winds
That whisper through the pines and send,
Their promises of life renewed
And scents of primal earthy blends.

The chanting prayers of frogs conclude
When silenced by the rumbling brood,
Then treetops dance in joyful mirth
Amid the raindrops softly spewed.

Now comes the rain with fresh rebirth
Replenishing the wetland's dearth,
From bands of rain that span her girth
We drink the tears of mother earth.



Timothy I. Brumley

The Battle of Twiddledom

For Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Gump
They rode their beasties thippity thump
With snarling banshees close behind
To save the royal Twiddle line!

For Darken Gore the bastard prince
Had brought to task his army hence
To steal the rightful Twiddle throne
And claim the kingdom for his own.

They rode their beasties gallant men
Of noble blood and Twiddle friend
"For Dee and Gump!" the yell went up
As they rode on thippity thump!

The Armies met and so engaged
And there the Darken bastard raged
Amidst the sword and banshee fang
The clash of steel and armor rang.

The Twiddlites fought bravely through
And flanked the Darkenites in two 
There, in the clamor of the fray
The Twiddles two had won the day! 

And so the Kings of Twiddle land
Withstood the Darken bastard's plan
And Twiddle Kings rein till this day
Or, so the Twiddle poets say.

Timothy I. Brumley

The Rain Falls Softly Now

The rain falls softly now against my shoulders
The sound turns into laughter
The laughter has a face
It is the face of joy.....

"Hurry up!" I called as she ran into my arms
"You're soaking wet!" I said as we kissed
And I carried her wet across the threshold
Into our new life and home.

The rain falls softly now against my face
It feels like the tears that I wept
When I saw our child for the first time
"She looks just like you!" I said
And then I watched her grow into a lady 
With her mother's eyes.....

"Don't forget to call!" I yelled
As she drove off to college that rainy morning
We both stood there waving and getting soaked
Our baby had grown up and left
But we still had each other.

The rain falls softly now atop the umbrellas
Of our family and friends
And on the flowers that adorn your casket
But I need no umbrella
For I need the rain to drown my tears.

The rain falls softly now...
Ever gentle on my mind.



Timothy I. Brumley

My Dog's Eyes

When I look in my dog’s eyes
My soul pales to compare,
No sign of vice, or pride, or lies
Or sin reside in there.

If eyes are windows to the soul
That show the heart inside,
Then puppy eyes are love filled bowls
That splash from side to side.

When I meet my best friend's stare
And her eyes start to shine,
I only see those things in there
I pray God sees in mine.


Timothy I. Brumley

The Valley's View

While standing on the mountain top
It's easy to look down,
At those who climb and climb nonstop
Who live in tiny towns.

But I prefer the valley through
That's cradled like a cup,
Where mountain walls restrict my view
Towards Heaven looking up.



                              Timothy I. Brumley

The Last Fairy Queen

And so she wept for ages past
The end it seemed had come at last
Her kingdom slowly chipped away
Her magic also fading fast.

The nothingness had come to stay
To herald there the end of days
For who believes in fairy folk
"They're only make believe" we say.

And then our children laugh and joke
They say, "Fairies are just a hoax,"
"Let's put our faith in science and math"
And thus the magic spell is broke.

With no one to believe steadfast
No life from us to there is passed
The end it seemed had come at last
And so she wept for ages past.



                              Timothy I. Brumley

From Father To Son

The hues of autumn mix and meld
On trees where clusters of mistletoe dwell,
Shades of amber, scarlet, and gold
Call into mind some old stories Dad told.

Tales of wizards, dragons, and lore
Of pirates landing one morning on shore,
Born of magic, lovingly spun
So cleverly crafted just for his son.

Grand adventures I fondly hold
Could live forever if only retold,
Father to son...now an old man
Retold to this lad who now holds my hand.

The hues of autumn mix and meld
Turning to auburn once life is expelled,
Fathers live, and they also die...
But their tales live on when told by and by.


                                              Timothy I. Brumley

The Crow and the Butterfly

There's a crow and a butterfly
That do a little dance,
When I throw my shutters wide
They flit around and prance.

My bird feeder attracts the crow
My bush the butterfly,
But privacy it seems bestows
Some act they try to hide.

How quickly both jump up and glide
To scurry from the scene,
You'd think that with my shutters wide
I'd see something obscene!

There's a crow and a butterfly
That do this little dance,
And if I were not wiser, why
I'd swear it was romance!


                    Timothy I. Brumley

I Know Love Well

Yes I know love, I know her well
For I'm a hunter who excels
Who knows his prey by sound and smell
And signs that tell, and signs that tell.

I've hunted love so long it seems
I'd know her even in my dreams
I've seen her victims she demeans
And those she weans, and those she weans.

My trophy mounts stare tauntingly
Their cold dead eyes laugh mockingly
"Yes, you got us but where is she?"
They laugh at me, they laugh at me.

I hear them now inside my head
They're daring me to push ahead
To have her fur spread o'er my bed
Her arms widespread, her arms widespread.

Yes I know love, that is you see
I've tracked her now relentlessly
But like the unicorn that flees
She runs from me, she runs from me.



                                      Timothy I. Brumley

When Vampires Make Love On a Thin Crescent Moon

When vampires make love on a thin crescent moon
The cock crows at dusk and the owl hoots at noon,
The dog starts to bark and then chases the goose
The pigs start to squeal then the horses get loose.

Lightening flashes but the thunder won't peal
Then batteries die in the automobiles,
Frogs start to bellow throughout the lagoon
When vampires make love on a thin crescent moon.

The coyotes howl and the she panther screams
Inspiring bad nightmares instead of sweet dreams,
The bees in the hive turn their honey so sour
You'll be rinsing your mouth for nearly an hour.

The devil starts dancing and kicking his heels
With demons and witches at night in the fields,
Men take to fighting and the ladies to swoon
When vampires make love on a thin crescent moon.


                                        Timothy I. Brumley

Come Hear Me Bleed

Come listen to the gifted poet
Those with skill who plainly show it
Who juggle embers of a dream
And make them glow while they blow it.

Some poets have verse as smooth as cream
And others make you want to scream
Then there's the poets who purge their hearts
While others have adventure themes.

Come hear how love can get it's start
The spark of love makes grief depart
Where hopelessness had raised his head
A love poem may a spark impart.

Still others wallow in their dread
With tears they feel they still must shed
Once penned in verse becomes the nurse
That helps them put the pain to bed.

Come let our hearts and minds traverse
And just perchance we'll get immersed
In worlds of wonder words converse
The poet bleeds his heart in verse.





                                Timothy I. Brumley

• Short Brumley Poems
• Famous Brumley Poems
• Best Brumley Poems
• Read Brumley Poems
• Long Brumley Poems
• Brumley Quotes