Thoughts are ages-old
Well before separation, sorrow
Discordant, lavishly pompous
They blotted my past self out
sarcasm directed at man, I will be not
Timeouts Ignore
Promptly, it has re-emerged as a threat
Written: November 10, 2022
Categories:
timeouts, analogy, meaningful,
Form: Free verse
The seconds ran fast
as did the minutes
which never seemed to last.
And the hours took wings
as if racing to the finish
to beat the last bell-ring.
The days flew by like jet planes,
leaving trails to capture the memories.
The Winter months were cold but never grew old.
When young, I captured the memories that arrested me the most.
I shut out the others, refusing all that would render me toast.
From decades past, those 'November Recalls' caused me to smile.
The Spring season delights in bringing resurrection,
And the Summer beckons for 'breaks, escapes, and timeouts'.
And then comes November, following September and October.
November says to me in gentle tones, "Enjoy your fruits of labor.
Time and toil throughout the year have swept you off your feet;
But I have now arrived that you may rise to festive and merry times".
"I have slowed the pace to reflect upon the year's race.
For the most part, a year that has embraced and favored you.
I offer you peace and poise; hope in anticipation of 2023".
110822PSCtest, A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE.
Brian Strand
Categories:
timeouts, november,
Form: Verse
I love the browns in Tahoe’s nature,
I cry from the beauty in each acre ….
I have seen many parts of America,
savored each region’s unique flavor,
yet I am now a mute and awed appraiser.
In Tahoe, nature and enchantment neighbor.
Deep inside me, emotional tribute waves
gather, build and then rise in praise.
I feel the fuel of my soul’s veneration
as it revels in my Father’s creation.
My head and my heart harbor no doubt
that God comes here for any timeouts.
The oldest, tallest and most sturdy trees
are the lakes and mountains strong trustees.
Each flaunts an assured, confident attitude
for they have long lived their attributes.
I watch these trees with my soul’s eyes
as each nestles clouds in lazy, velvet skies.
Trunks reddish to dark brown are superb.
Such huge trees dwarf mankind into a blur.
Ancient brown trunks are divine to behold.
I give thanks man left them undisturbed.
I would love to dwell in this forest’s folds.
A simple cabin would serve my fantasy.
Each day I’d visit a different brown tree,
absorb them one by one, most happily.
November 2, 2016
Categories:
timeouts, beauty, nature,
Form: Lyric
“Where I’m From”
I am from pliers
from Tylenol and vanilla bean perfume.
I am from the budding rose bush,
the aloe vera plant
whose salve heals my burns.
I am from the tee-ball bat in the garage
the ballet bar in the studio.
I am from princess pajamas and my favorite stuffed animal
from sandy beaches and mountain views.
I’m from lessons learned and the hard way,
from spankings and timeouts in my bedroom.
I’m from wood flooring and hazel eyes
and southern cooking grandmothers.
I’m from the brewing of sweet tea and
the individual stitches on quilts.
From the “no no’s” and
the land flowing with “milk and honey.”
I’m from early Sunday mornings,
in a polk-a-dot dress and black patent shoes.
I’m from the foothills,
green beans and heavily buttered cornbread.
From the crown and sash of Miss Catawba Valley
the receding hairline of my father.
They are on the top shelf in my closet
a box of baby pictures and birthday cards.
It holds my memories, so that I may never forget
Where I’m from.
Categories:
timeouts, birth, family, home, me,
Form: Free verse
Most closet doors are ok, if they're brand new homes.
Decorated with posters of the Rolling Stones.
Oh the monsters I made up when I was a child.
Inside my head were the sights of beasts running wild.
Some closet doors are made to punish naughty kids.
Because parents, though some grand, really blew their lids.
Long timeouts in the dark, sit still and be quiet.
But when I got out, I'd start a brand new riot!
Luckily all those times, are all behind me now.
So when I think back then, there's no beating my brow.
I don't see the monsters, or wild beasts anymore.
But clothes kept getting larger, in my closet doors.
Categories:
timeouts, childhood, funny, imagination,
Form: Quatrain