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Best Poems Written by Brieannah Lawson

Below are the all-time best Brieannah Lawson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Brieannah Lawson Poem

November

For some reason not even the earth could change my mind
The wind banging against my ears
And the dark night couldn't disguise it.
The oak trees could protest their judgement
And the ocean can keep wailing 
But my ignorance can oversee it.
For some reason,there were more leaves than before.
The owls cries were easily ignored
Likewise, not even the doves were heard.
Reluctant, I had started to embrace the seasons
And with that, the leaves finally cleared
The ocean soothed
The oaks no longer croaked
For once
I felt blissfully unaware.
Yesterday everything was so loud
But tonight was so quiet
Even my mind no longer protested.
The only protests were the thumps of my very own heart
Even though the snow sourly embraced me
Summers' own spiteful touch lingered.
On that edge
A minuscule path of dying dignity
The seasons grew louder
For whatever reason.
And even in my bittersweet death
I was still nature's child
Caressed by mother nature herself.


November

Details | Brieannah Lawson Poem

privileged entitlement

In the barn, I wear white.
I may not know it now
but it is the last time I'll ever wear something so innocent.
Late in the dark night, 
cold air hits my face.
A little lamb, freshly born.
But some things are not quite right.
It's sick and twisted, four eyes and a missing limb.
Everything around is disturbed, and moves away.
Its own mother refuses it milk, and leaves it for dead.
I can't help but wonder why
Why did the lamb have to be this way?
I allow it in my arms, and share a piece of my sympathy.
While at the same time, being disgusted as its body withers in my arms.
The lamb doesn't notice.
Doesn't know any better.
It looks up at me with those beady eyes
And it makes me horrified.
I'm no better than an animal.
I'm so cruel, I grab a knife on the table.
What am I doing? 
What am I thinking?
I'm no better than an animal, and I'm just as bad as a man.
My small hand trembles, and I'll count to ten.
The lamb looks peaceful, in my lap. It almost makes me feel bad.
But I bring my hands above my head
Despite me knowing its wrong
And rip away the lamb's life.
It shrieks and cries
And I just slash harder.
Until I get it to be quiet.
My own hands, in this own barn.
I've killed something. Something that could've lived.
My white dress is stained red, and I turn away.
The air isn't so cold
Maybe it's the lamb's blood on my hands?
Or maybe I can just pretend
It's the lamb saying thanks.
Where did this entitlement come from?
That I am so much above this little lamb
I will give it what I deem freedom of death?
Just because the little lamb
Can't tell me no.
And because it was different
I decided to let it go.
My tears don't matter
They won't make up for what I just did.
Mother nature's own product
That I deemed unperfect.
It's too late now, what's done is done
And I don't even have the decency
To even Bury it.
I truly am a man, aren't I?

Details | Brieannah Lawson Poem

Meat is pleasing

My head was in a daze, I'd been down here for days. 

All in the name of love, you'd scream, so I let it happen to me.

 My skin is like fondant, you'd peel it back. I winced and whined, But didn't fight back. 

Your fingers scrape against my skin, trying to find a way in. 

My blood spills, you feel a thrill.

 Remove each rib, one by one. The damage will never be undone. 

“Perfection” is what you're trying to achieve, but is it really if it's damaging me?

 I wanted to scream, wanted to cry, maybe even die? But I'd felt too much and didn't want to give up. 

My throat clogs with blood, isn't this enough?

 You use your scalpel and take pieces of yourself and put them into me, your presence will always remain. 

I can't take much more, how long till four?

 The break of a limb, the catch of a fall, how many hours can I endure it all?

 You reach my lungs, injecting your venom into them.

 Clasping my hands won't save me now, I take it all. Make you proud.They fill my throat, I'm in defeat. What am i if not meat?

No one likes snitches, and I was thought to keep. Your thirst for blood is too much for me.

 I make excuses, this is for love!

 feel pity for the pitless acts you do. 

My brain slows, and so do you.

 You grin with a glee, Thank me for this feast, rising to your feet. 

Tell me you'll come back for more, and tell me to say no more. 

My brain was clogged, what had you done?

 Can't think nor scream, what's wrong with me? 

Maybe tomorrow you will be nicer.

Details | Brieannah Lawson Poem

Taking small things


 I've picked too many flowers and I've stolen my fair share of leaves. Pocket every daisy, tulip. All for the sake of me. Peel every flower, gently with ease. Hold them forever, but it is still not enough for me.

I've wished on every shooting star on a dark night, to satisfy my needs. Oh look, Another hundred, just for me! A supernova wouldn't even stop my greedy self. I'd take the dust, and feed my need.

I glance up at the sky, and recognise my selfishness. I've seized the clouds, the stars, what more could I need?  

Hunger grows, I decide to let go. Thunder strikes, I take a bite. Courses through my veins, adrenaline in my brain. grab my bag, it's starting to get bad.

Birds chirp, I walk through the dirt. Grab one, possibly two. Should take them all, But I'll wait till fall. 

Trees creek, makes me meek. So strong and old, that's what I've been told. Take a few, there's nothing you can do. Ravish the roots, taste like fruit. What more can you do?

Glance around, nothing now. No birds, no trees, nothing for me. Take it all, what a ball. Feel proud, there's nothing to take now. Promise I'll stop, but I won't until I drop.

Sigh and sit in a dark ditch. Sky is gone, the clouds have moved on. Promise I'll give it back, but it's like a knack. Look at the sky, tears float from my eyes. Someone looks down, a deep noticeable frown. 

Take the chance, get a glance. Hunger comes back, I need a small snack. 

World is ravished, time for more. Dinners gonna be a big course. Guess what? Mercury's next. So close, and perfectly cooked. This should go down in books.

But do not fret, tomorrow and the next day is left, day after day, I'll surely change my ways!

Details | Brieannah Lawson Poem

Perceiving

Be disgusted by your body's limitations, You are just a sack of meat. Indigestible and rotten, so throw yourself into the forest but not even the dogs would eat.

Your body is decorated inside by a set of hollow bones, a firm stream of unjustifiable hatred pumping into every big vein and small vessel.

Long strands of hair spill from your head, but they are just dark roots of hatred coming from your messed up ideologies in the disguise as something beautiful.

Your own skin contradicts you, bounding you to the harsh reality of the world.

To live a thousand lives is nothing special, to be conscious and live in one is exceptional, and yet you waste the one conscious life you have by being you.

Your own abilities are locked away. Deep down in unreachable layers.

If you plunge the knife deep enough, you could reach it. But are you willing to get messy in the process?

Could your own bare hands tear at your tar skin? Could you handle your mother's screams for her baby to drop?

To be born was a crime, and having flesh was your punishment. Flesh is humiliation. Something that restricts you from potential.

If I handed you a knife, would you butcher away at the parts others find..disapproving?

Would you use it to cater to their unrealistic needs?

You will always be perceived from the outside, and not the inside. 

Maybe mother nature will accept your rotting corpse.

Details | Brieannah Lawson Poem

June's heart is grief

You used to like me, what's happened now?

Ever since June, you've been so blue. 

Stressing over nothing at all?

A one sided drama, a small conflict?

Is that all?

I say hi, but you don't even peek, let alone speak.

I try to celebrate your birthday, but can't find time.

You don't even seem to notice mine.

I know your favourite colour.

Favourite article of clothing

All your animal's names, and when you get up in the morning.

I visit you from time to time, and follow you everywhere.

I miss when we used to be friends, we'd play to no ends!

I don't remember much, I'm quite stuck.

I seem to remember things from yesterday, but not tomorrow.

Is that why you're mad? You're actually sad?

My birthday is coming up, but I've got no luck.

Just some flowers at a rock for me? Not even some god damn confetti!

I'd rather have games, confetti and cake, then to see your sad desolate face.

My dear friend, who I love to no end, I won't be there to see you grow up. 

Maybe I'm just stuck up?

I'm too sad to move forward, so I'll hang back a little while.

I hope you'll soon find your smile!

Details | Brieannah Lawson Poem

Scrap poem, never gonna finish!

I hope every minute you think, a flower of guilt blooms. I pray your garden of guilt goes on forever.
Your living is a privilege you shouldn't get to have. 
Does your harm have no boundaries?
When you look into a mirror do you cry?
Every one of those tears you squeeze out of your eyes are just the tears of those you have harmed.
If you cried for every minute of every day it couldn't compare to the billions of tears you have created.
A monster in the making since birth.
No one could even fathom how you got on earth.
Do you ever walk through your mental garden of guilt?
I wonder..are all the flowers white? 
Do you fail to recognise that all these flowers are blooming thoughts of the ones we had lost.
And all you see are inanimate, dull flowers?
Flowers that may never bloom because they had fallen ill to your hands.