Get Your Premium Membership

Best Poems Written by Regina Branham

Below are the all-time best Regina Branham poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

View ALL Regina Branham Poems

Details | Regina Branham Poem

As My Pen Danced

I waited, dressed to kill
in red,
and in love

both, of which 
I could have been coaxed out of

You have turned a pale shade of white,
my Valentine

Al Green sang to me,
as my pen danced as your substitute 
we danced all night long,
stationary, our dance floor.

As we whirled to the emotions
of words' sounds; hand in hand,
we went round and round
and round

No one else in the room
most of all, not you
as my ink turned 
from red to blue

Copyright © regina branham | Year Posted 2009

Details | Regina Branham Poem

A Dance in the Dark

He was her dance in the dark
that never got past the stroke of midnight,
both shared moon's light
yet, never did he leave
the empty corridors
in her mind

grief of days swept into years
which she could never seem to shake
heart's lonely ache
as they twirled round and round
when she closed her eyes

She wondered if his heart, like hers
was bound to that moment in time
love in its prime
torn from two; much too soon
now only memories of what was

She sat by the window, staring down the lonely drive
grey hair shaped around her face
a soft light filled the place
she held out her hand for the man she mourned for
gently he took hold and wisped her through the door

She arrived at sixteen in this home of misplaced minds
no name of which she could recall
nor who she was at all
The car wreck she was pulled from 
left the driver dead
no more words were said
while she danced in the dark

Copyright © regina branham | Year Posted 2013

Details | Regina Branham Poem

Just Down the Road

Just down the road, before that first hill
is where I learned to ride my bike
and took my first spill

Just down the road the old dusty school bus 
picked me up, where Billy pulled my pig-tails
and made me blush

Just down the road in that field of clover,
under that big old oak
is where we buried my dog, that got ran over,
just down the road

Just down the road on that old wooden bridge,
Is the place my grandpa took me to fish
It wriggled it's way off my hook - I told Grandpa,
"I didn't want to look," as it swam away

Just down the road, late at night, is the place
my friends and I caught  fire flies,
as they lit our walk back to our house,
where we opened our jars and let them out

Just down the road past old man Squire's
Is where my car broke down with a flat tire
Old Man Squire helped me jack it up, 
loaned me a spare - filled with air 

Just down the road near that clear water creek
is the quiet spot where I would sit and think -
think about times like today - things, I wish
I could say, wish I could be... that lay hidden
just down the road

Copyright © regina branham | Year Posted 2014

Details | Regina Branham Poem

Daddy's Letter

Mommy, could you help me write a letter to my dad? There's some things I need to ask him, things, that make me feel real sad Like, why all the sudden did he stop coming home? and when he's not with us, tell him, I get worried he's alone Ask, how come, you do the things he used to help me with, and when he visits next time, is he gonna bring another gift? I need to know, if I'm still his, or just yours, Mommy... I always thought you were both mine, not just one at a time Daddy, can you answer these questions and get them off my mind? My little sister started walkin' today. I can't wait until she's big enough to play. I try my best to teach her things and help her when I can... Mommy always calls me, her "little man" Being around girls all day isn't too much fun at all So, when I pray to God each night I ask for you, to come play ball I wonder, did I do something wrong? Something you didn't like? If you come home, I promise, to try and do things right... Cause', I really miss you being gone and now I feel, a little scared at night Mommy, just one more thing, before you finish my letter... Ask him, if, I'll always be missing him or when, my heart will start feelin' better Oh! and say -- Daddy, when you come and visit me, you can sleep in my bed Then, you and me can talk about all the things I haven't said Love, Blake Thank you, Mommy

Copyright © regina branham | Year Posted 2009

Details | Regina Branham Poem

As The Dusty School Bus Passed Me By

I was eight...
always late,
as the dusty school bus
passed me by.

she was one;
I couldn't let her cry
as she waited for our 

I moved her crib
into my room...
to comfort her
should she awake

He was seven
and asked if I knew how
to clean his dirty clothes

I filled a sink, 
scrubbed his jeans 
and washed the dirt away

They told me they were hungry;
I made sure 
that they were fed

I was eight,
always late...
as the dusty school bus 
passed me by.

Copyright © regina branham | Year Posted 2009

Details | Regina Branham Poem

Little Pieces of Little Papers

When I'm cleaning
I find her hope;
little pieces of little papers
tucked away
in little places.

silent, secret wishes
of what needs repaired - that no one
can fix or fully understand
her urgency - for 
they see no flaws.

And I cry, a cry
for her, because
she won't - So, I dust
around her notes
respecting her reminders
of miracle ears; 
little pictures of little things
promising to hide
that which she displays everyday
alone in this
in-between world
that the deaf can't hear 
and the hearing can -
what she can't
change, without her little pieces
of little papers 
that she tucks away
in little places.

Copyright © regina branham | Year Posted 2009

Details | Regina Branham Poem

The Pink Dress Mess

I'm eight years old, 
And I'm in a mess. 
We have not that much money, 
not even enough, to buy my sister a dress.

So think, think, think. What can I do? 
I can go door to door, 
And ask for a spare dime, 
But, there are so many doors, 
And I don't have that kind of time.

I can call Grandpa Jack, 
I know he has big bucks, 
But he only gives it out, to people 
who are down on their luck.

I could write a letter to my Grandma Jean, 
She's always been really hip to the scene!

My Dad would give me the money I bet, 
But not until I worked up a good sweat! 
I might come back to this one, 
Depending how desperate I get.

The want ads? I wonder 
if they have a job, 
for me? 
Yes, but, you have to be 
between the ages of eighteen 
and sixty-three.

This isn't working! 
My sister is starting to cry. 
She knows just how to work me, 
I can't take it, to see a big tear in her eye. 
I told her, "not to worry. I'll make it happen, 
wait and see. You'll have a pink dress, 
down to your knees."

So I sat down and put my head in my hands, 
And I sat like that, until I came up 
with a 

Here's what I decided to do...

I went to my closet, 
I started digging from the top. 
It took forever, to get to the bottom, 
the place I could stop.

I cleaned, stacked and sorted, 
then priced all my stuff. 
Surely, all of this would bring 
more than enough!

Then I sold all the things, 
that I didn't need. 
By the end of the day, all the change 
in my pocket, was enough money indeed! 
So, down to the store, 
I pedaled to quick! 
So fast, in fact, I started feeling 
quite sick!

I pulled from my pocket, all the cash 
I'd worked for. 
Then exchanged it for a pretty pink dress, 
I knew my sister would adore.

Back on my bike, the dress flying behind. 
All this work, all this effort! 
But, could I make it back home in time?

I threw down my bike, as I caught the dress 
from its flight. 
Then, burst open the door, shouting 
"Sis, close your eyes, tight!"

The look on her face, as I revealed 
to her, the dress 
Let me know as a brother, I was the best!

So I solved that problem, 
Now I could relax. 
There was no more stress, 
over a silly old dress.

Copyright © regina branham | Year Posted 2009

Details | Regina Branham Poem

Lisa needs to lay off the sauce

Lisa's vodka voice
calls from outside,
later than late, when
the stars have shut down 
for the night, refusing 
boozer-sight that prevents 
one from tripping.

Screech owl's search light,
a Full-Sturgeon moon,
is still much too dark, if inebriated
to distinguish which cement walls 
are most likely to attack.

Two eves past, her 
horse auditioned, 
in the living room.
He too loves a good

Excuse me, for I hear
her knock of desperation
at the door. As for Duke,
the horse; not to worry,
he can hold his own beer.

Copyright © regina branham | Year Posted 2009

Details | Regina Branham Poem

A Veiled Black Lace Hat

Clare's hands were clasped upon her lap,
upon her crown, a veiled black lace hat.
A shattered calm she wore;
that took on strength
self-steadied after several drinks

If one dared look closer, to penetrate -
then one would see through the black veil's lace,
and reveal a woman, blank of face,
that long ago had left this place.

Clasped hands 
on which shine a
diamond ring
lustre lost, 
as do those things
that shine, then dull.
A lover's token 
which she pushed and pulled.

Parades of people floated past
condolences said and sent
as people slowly came and went.

Clare remained
with hands still clasped upon her lap
diamond dully staring back.

All had gone, as had he,
as Clare fell to her knees
face pale and pasty white
searching for that brilliant light
that never came. 

Clare stumbled out into the night
guided by vodka and
lace veiled sight

alone again; Clare cried insane
until a large sum of money came
as did twice before
when on her finger
shone a diamond ring -
lustre lost - as do those things
that shine, then dull
that push, then pull

In her closet, near the back
waits a favorite
veiled black lace hat

Copyright © regina branham | Year Posted 2012

Details | Regina Branham Poem

Rust-ruined Rivers

When time has shifted
white gates lost
passion and
rust-ruined rivers
run before your door

false truths be thrown
to lie upon your floor
nasty, dead fish -
stink, as lies, no more.

Stenched karma from
which liars smell -
dipped in batter
deep fried in hell 

forehead branded 
recipes of blamed
lies, you deny-while your 
tongue chokes as
it swells

bones swallowed of
which fish you forgot
you had long ago caught;
truth's vapors seeping out 
your pores

rust-ruined rivers
rush in once more
as the sea greets the shore

Copyright © regina branham | Year Posted 2009