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Best Poems Written by Kenneth Brenner

Below are the all-time best Kenneth Brenner poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Kenneth Brenner Poem

Auburn Haired Beauty

Crouching down, I'm foxhole bound,
crawling forward I seen it, its around.
I ducked my head, while covering one eye,
as soon as the enemies flare lit up the night sky.
Machine gun bullets quickly sprayed my above,
tracer rounds intertwining, making lead love.
The flare fizzled out, tracers rounds did cease,
enemy listening for anything, the slightest peep.
Continue my crawl, edge forward and slow,
I know the foxhole's close, I know for sure.
Reaching out, my moving hand will see,
what lies ahead, up in front of me.
I feel a slight slope, loose dirt is there,
my thoughts were right, the foxhole was near.
I slithered in, not making a sound,
crept to the bottom, no mud, solid ground.
I lay alone with fear, must gain my composure,
checking my gear, staying low avoiding exposure.
With two frag grenades, and one smoke too,
four thirty round clips, that should do.
Satisfied with all, the death makers I have,
my mind walked away, down a memory path.
I see my love, her face such a glow,
long red hair, tied tight with pink bow.
She pulls the lace string, her hair falls away,
nodding it gently, auburn waves magically sway.
No time to think, my missions ahead,
after my attack they all should be dead.
With a breath from far deep and within,
I palm a grenade while pulling the pin.
Lifting myself up, and clearing the hole,
I expose my body for the grenade ill throw.
Raising two fingers, spoon "clangs" sounding neat,
I know where to toss, its about twenty feet.
The frags away, I quickly duck down,
no looking ahead, just listen to sound.
A loud cracking thud, I then heard them scream,
it lasted forever, time stopped it did seem.
With no second thought, as instinct would be,
I threw the last frag, either they die or me.
Hitting the target, my aim was quite good,
screaming subsided, as I knew that it would.
I returned to the bottom, on back I did lie,
thanking my Lord that he kept me alive.
Ill stay in this hole til the sun starts to peek,
popping off the smoke canister right before my retreat.
White blue smoke, chokes the area im in,
I crawl out the back, as quickly I can.
Keeping head low, no time to feel fear,
I made my way back, from which I appeared.
With my return, heartfelt faces and high fives,
pats on the back, and thank Gods your alive.
Celebration is over, no more needs to be said,
gather your ammo, gear, and weapons, mission next is ahead.
My mind quickly wanders, the path strolled before,
auburn haired beauty, her freedom, its that I kill for.

Details | Kenneth Brenner Poem

Auburn Haired Beauty Part Ii

We gathered around an old, grey battered table,
one leg was to short, darn thing was unstable.
Spread out on top laid a map with torn edges,
markings in pen, circling valleys and ridges.
Azimuth in hand and pen in grips sight,
lines were drawn showing us our next fight.
Two klicks up north, and a jaunt to the west,
we'll cover that ground, with no stopping to rest.
Our numbers are weak, but survival is strong,
we've been here before, it seems years long.
Battle hardened and faithful, this small force of ten,
doing these type missions, time and time again.
We'll wait until dark, deep into the night,
heading out then, beginning our plight.
With time on my hands, and empty stomach to fill,
then gather some rest, positive that I will.
I drift off to sleep, floating a wave of memories stored,
she's such a warm site, melting my heart deep to its core.
Her arms are crossed, leaning against open doorway,
my auburn haired beauty, batting lashes at me.
Her eyes are light hazel, gold, green, and soft brown,
lighting up my dark soul, thats been vacant, a ghost town.
Just as she was bout to speak, 
with her voice so soft, a vocal treat.
I feel my body being gently shaken,
My fellow warrior saying, "its time, awaken."
Coming to, while wishing I had heard the thoughts she spoke,
within my silent, but visual dream, before I woke.
The time is dark the mission ahead, seek enemy,
we will kill them all, and pray we take no casualties.
Almost instantly as I exit the olive drab colored tent,
mind sails to my auburn haired beauty, smiling,winking, Heaven sent.
I must return back to her whole, just as I had left,
not arriving home, within flag draped, silver casket.
Auburn haired beauty, she's worth my life and more,
her freedom, our home, today, I will kill for.

Details | Kenneth Brenner Poem

Moments

Spotter to my left, we're covered in camouflage.
Objects appear in front, some moving others mirage.
Distinguish what's real, and what image is fake.
Knowing when target approaches, the shot to take.
When decision is made, after targets been found.
One shot, one kill, target laying upon ground.

Details | Kenneth Brenner Poem

Grannies' Rage

I've got a story, that needs to be told,
about my mean ole granny, she's pushing "83" years old.
She came at me trippin, it was a Tuesday night,
griping up a storm bout her broken, bedroom nightlite.
She claims I attempted to cause her to trip,
with ending up on floor, and a right broken hip.
She waddled down the hall, walker leading the way,
her hair was a wreck, misplaced comb I would say.
I calmly explained light stays constantly lit,
seven days and nights, my excuse, sounding legit.
Before I could say that the little bulb just blew,
she slowly bent down, and grabbed a brown velcro shoe.
Not quite for certain of her plan of attack,
shouldn't be worried, her eyesight, rather unfit.
I went to the kitchen, quickly opened the junk drawer,
located a pack of bulbs, I had purchased a week before.
Staying out of her way, her comments, and aim,
back to her room, the nightlite I had supposedly maimed.
I quickly replaced the old bulb with new,
the light flickered once, twice, then its radiance grew.
I went back to sit, where I was before,
with granny still ranting, barely pacing the floor.
I told her, her light seems to be fine,
that she could go back to bed at any time.
Slowly she dropped the brown velcro laced shoe,
continuing to cuss at me, like a mad trucker would do.
With a final curse word, and a slam of her door,
I sat silently, grinning, and thinking, "grannies' rage", I simply adore.

Details | Kenneth Brenner Poem

Zombie Dawn

We wait....standing time,
distant sound....bells chime.
Ringing twice....ringing three,
for you....or me.
Drifting fog....distant howls,
demons arrive....demons growl.
Chaos caused....friction ahead,
it's started....walking dead.
Graveyard risen....endless stare,
creeping forward....our nightmare.
Corpses strewn....new recruits,
some skirts....some suits.
Open arms....dead accept,
walking dead....living regret.
Gather weapons....discharge fear,
makeshift bunker....enter secure.
Silent prayers....deep breath,
moving forward....walking death.
Shoulder weapon....safety off,
squeeze trigger....rounds aloft.
Lead connects....rotting flesh,
creeping fall....repeating death.
Rising sun....ammo low,
walking dead....numbers grow.
Dead outnumber....living inside,
walls collapse....cannot hide.
Rifles spewing....final round,
backing up....corner bound.
Fate accepted....choice aside,
ripped apart....bloody tide.
Eyelids fall....blackness sets,
moments later....enter abyss.
Walking dead....numbers grow,
I've become....one also.
Creeping forward....endless stare,
soon becoming....your nightmare.

Details | Kenneth Brenner Poem

Loose Change

If I had a nickel, I'd sell something,
flip it to a dime.
If I had a dime, I'd stand around and 
loiter, 
maybe someone would hand me
a quarter.
If I had a quarter, I'd bet it on a pony,
win, and get me a dollar.
Heck! If I had that dollar,
everything up to that, why even bother.

Details | Kenneth Brenner Poem

When a Pen Talks

If my pen would talk, it'd say what I thought,
what do I think would come straight from the ink.
If it was blue, red, or black the words wouldn't change,
the ink states the facts.
The facts are words, thoughts and rhyme,
reading them could take some time.
Time is here, there and all around,
my pen making the only sound.
The sound is words, rhythm and rhyme,
the sound it says is for you and I.
Now that my pen has said what its said,
its talked quite a bit to get near the end.
With an end near and in its site,
my pen has used much of its mite.
Its talked and wrote, for this, this note it wrote.
What's the meaning with all this ink thats been said,
was for you my (Debi) our love is that, what's been said.
I love you, as my pen has showed its took quite a bit,
to get to this part of the show.
With the credits running past through and through,
it boils down to just me and you.
I love you my sweet, my pen has agreed,
I love you my dear, it's you that I need.
My pen has wrote what's needed to be said,
I love you baby, this last part is from (Ken).
The cap has been placed back on the pen,
the words at the end, came from me and my heart within.
I love you.

Details | Kenneth Brenner Poem

Typical Night

Slowly the sun sets as day turns to night.
Cellars, castles, and caves, places that cause much fright.
These are the areas, I call them my home,
secluded deeply within mausoleums and tombs.
Once I awake from a sleep of no rest,
gradually I rise from red velvet lined casket.
Hovering above dirty, dusty, stone cratered floor,
gracefully floating, exiting heavy oak crypt door.
Black overcoat with yellow gold buttons and links,
white shirt, black tie, fur scarf of two minks.
Appearance is normal for the society in now,
dressing the part, slightly wealthy, and greetings of bows.
Never drawing attention, til catching warm, living soul alone,
down a dark alley, quiet street corner, or invite within home.
Hypnotic dark eyes and a voice that will snare,
bringing her closer to death, she's completely unaware.
Capturing one's soul, mind, body, and heart,
moments after meeting, their blood mine from start.
As my arms wrap around you and draw you in near,
I expose my fangs, glistening white, soon red smeared.
Lifeless body, pale white as my silk shirt,
draining you empty, quenching this dark thirst.
Hours have passed, must exit this town,
dawn is approaching, as I enter graveyards ground.
Another night has passed, one less soul on this earth,
my life never ending, non-mortal, Hell's curse.
With arms across chest, eyes shut but awake,
waiting til dusk, another journey and soul I will take.

Details | Kenneth Brenner Poem

Love, Taking Time

My thoughts are many, but, only for you.
My love, my partner, and my friend too.
Unlike no other, past until now,
through thick and thin, we're deserving a bow.
We've withstood lifes good, and the lifes bad,
always prevailing, by any means that we had.
Lasting a lifetime, our love shall remain.
Time being no object, time staying the same.
Living each day as though its our first,
love quenching our hearts, fulfilling hearts thirst.
Time being no object, time staying the same.
Loving you always, time stops...love ticks away.

Details | Kenneth Brenner Poem

Silent Sounds

I'd hold you tight, as you slept,
hearts beating as one, back to chest.
Your breath warm upon my hand,
while holding you tight, best I can.
No sleep for me, your sounds I see,
holding you tight, just you and me.