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Best Poems Written by Dan Bressers

Below are the all-time best Dan Bressers poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Nationals

You wear your flag like a second skin,
the colors bright, the threads worn thin;
And speak of victories long ago,
In voices proud, yet soft and low.

The tales are told, again, again
the triumphs carved in dust and pen;
The papers shout what you should hear,
While silencing what’s less sincere.

You count your coins, you guard your name,
you say it’s just a noble game;
But shadows stir beneath your cheer,
A trembling hand you won’t let near.

And so we stand on separate ground,
no shared horizon to be found;
Yet in the gap, I almost see
A kind of peace for you and me.

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Carnival Lights

Beneath the sky’s deep purple hue,
Music calls, the laughter too;
Wheels turn slow, the lights all spin,
And pull us gently further in.

The air smells sweet with candy threads,
With buttered corn and warm baked breads;
A carousel of painted dreams,
It ripples on the moonlit streams.

I watch your eyes in neon glow,
They shine in ways you may not know;
The call of bells, the beating drums,
The thrill before the next ride comes.

We win no prize, yet still we keep
The moment safe, our hearts to steep;
For nights like these are never sold,
They live in us when we grow old.

As the tents fold up tight,
And lanterns fade into night,
We walk back slow, still side by side,
With all the joy we could not hide.

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The Little Thunder

I saw a streak of living flame,
with no regard for rule or name;
It tumbled through the morning grass,
as if the sun had come to pass.

Its paws struck earth in tiny drums,
like thunder where the daylight hums;
The wind bent low to kiss its ear,
the sky leaned down to watch it near.

It charged at leaves, then spun away,
a knight without a war to play;
Its tail a banner, bright and free,
declaring joy for all to see.

And when it stopped, and caught my gaze,
all breath was gone, all time erased;
No crown, no sword, no sky above
just two small eyes, and endless love.

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Reunited

In crescendos and surges of light,
Beneath the somber, crimson sky,
Beyond the shadow's line,
He stretched his wings in haste
He found and swept an angels heart;
They shine and struck embrace
And onward flew the angels,
By crimson flame and flash
We simply stood and stared a while,
And heard the trumpets blast.
We saw it singed and scorched in light
And in the glow of golden blaze,
The past cannot declined.
No meaning slips away.
A love designed to last the years,
Will not be torn or taken,
A mother’s boy united,
A time for celebration.

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Chains for the Weak

If you hold a gun and I hold a gun,
we can talk about law.
If you hold a knife and I hold a knife,
we can talk about rules.
If you come empty-handed and I come empty-handed,
we can talk about reason.
But if you have a gun and I only have a knife,
then the truth lies in your hands.
If you have a gun and I have nothing,
what you hold isn't just a weapon — it's my life.
The concepts of law, rules, and morality
only hold meaning when they are based on equality.
The harsh truth of this world is that when money speaks,
truth goes silent.
And when power speaks,
even money takes three steps back.
Those who create the rules
are often the first to break them.
Rules are chains for the weak,
tools for the strong.
In this world, anything good must be eradicated,
because goodness breeds defiance, and defiance threatens order.
There is no mercy.
There is no justice.
There is only the will to dominate,
and the silence of those who fall.
Truth is whatever I decide it to be.
Morality is the weapon of the defeated.
And in the end, everything bends… or it breaks.

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The Blade in the Garden

I found a blade beside the rose,
its silver kissed by morning’s close;
It caught the sun as if to keep
the fire warm while earth still sleeps.

It did not stir when I drew near,
nor tremble with a hint of fear;
It seemed to watch, in patient grace,
the wind that touched its polished face.

A vine had curled around its hilt,
like memory round the things we’ve built;
And rain had carved, in tiny streams,
the stories only metal dreams.

I reached to lift it from the ground,
and heard a low, unshaken sound—
The whisper steel will sometimes say:
“My edge was honed for more than play.”

Yet still it let my fingers hold,
its weight both steady, warm, and cold;
And in that moment, I could see
the storm it was, the calm it’d be.

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To the Poet I Know

They say your words are forged in flame,
in halls where angels speak your name;
From vaults of time, from storm and night,
you cull the shadows, summon light.

You walk through fire and make it sing,
you crown the humble, make a king;
Your word bends law, yet keeps its grace,
a prophet’s truth in mortal place.

The sea will part, the skies will clear,
when such a voice the world can hear;
And still, when all the trumpets fade,
and all the crowns are put away

You speak as if to one old friend,
whose hand you’ll hold until the end.

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Dweller of Our Heart

Within the dark, before the day,
A golden spark will find its way;
Not borrowed light, nor fleeting flame,
But one with which the sun’s the same.

It warms the marrow, stirs the soul,
It makes the broken pieces whole;
Through weary hours, through every start,
It dwells within our beating heart.

When shadows press, it will not fade,
It stands where deepest love is laid;
For just as morning crowns the sky,
It rises here, and so do I.

We burn not just to see, but give,
To make the colder world live;
This flame, unchanged, will never part
The sun itself
Dwells in our heart.

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A Special Place

Here's account of pleasure past,
As through it we are taken,
Not our eye but by our souls
Our memories past awaken,
Untouched, unchanged, vaults of time,
Will always remain unshaken,
For if it is that moment nears
To make a choice and change the years,
Defining who you are in here
The answer's never, ever, fear.
Lost in woe for thee we mourn,
We do not ask, we are not torn,
We only see the light anew,
In our hearts,
A special place for you.

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Family

When winds are rough,
And tear at hopes and dreams
When days are dark, and nights are tough,
And over-long, it seems
When bitter clouds collect above,
And ache and break and pour
We'll batten down the hatches, 
Just like we did before.
You see, to me - we're made to last;
To wait, contented, warm;
To stand and know the past has passed.
For now, it's just a storm.
If you should fray, or fall apart,
In any where or when
We’ll always try, with all our heart,
To make you whole again.
But if you do fall behind,
And break and shake to bits
The day will come where you will find,
The pieces still all fit.
That's quite enough of strain and strife,
And painful days, astray.
This isn't at all funny, life.
Enough for now, okay?