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Brigett Hurley Poem
The rise and fall of great mice.
A string on the tail let loose and set free.
The reach from here to there is one step.
A trampled mouse in the underground protected community.
Catches attention with the democrats.
It stirs up controversy of hate and hopelessness.
The rise and fall of great mice is near its end.
The steps are closer in proximity to and the width is formulating.
The voice is a sound squeak of protest.
A crowd gathers at the foot of a bed stool.
And people are still on the mantle covered in wax.
The applaud gathers and the cheer gets louder in silence,
as the numbers increase and scattered about in fewer numbers.
The political arena is fixed.
A thousand pieces scattered, a hungry audience awaits.
The fans are less then few, it gains in many through parables.
The vegetable soup is heated.
The wax is chipping by great nibblers of its history.
Somehow, the people that were there have vanished. A shiny
mantle is all that is left. A change of place has taken its course.
And the crowd begins this time with chips. The forms have shaped
with areas around and bent.
A laughter appears in hindsight. To that with which has no recognition to its relative. In solution to there of; a gesture of thought.
Recourse it is said its name.
Copyright © Brigett Hurley | Year Posted 2013
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Brigett Hurley Poem
I had a mother once, twice, a third would be too much.
A sickly mother with her hands all shriveled, and feet cold.
The fingers were long and the wrists were swollen.
The nails on her, hmmm, not sure. But they were there.
Oh, the layers, after layers, many layers shaping many forms.
My head is spinning!
Is that coffee or tea? I asked.
"No, it's coffee." Someone mentioned from a very far distant. (mother)
"Oh" I responded, to myself, of course.
The days are nice when I can go outside and take a walk.
The swollen wrists, and um those cold feet, shh, the nails, on her_.
How does a rabbit catch A,
a rabbit doesn't, but a squirrel could.
A split at the end with no remorse, has its toll on due course.
Say goodbye mother, until, the rainbow changes its shape.
On the horizon, where summer beaches meet the people half-way.
Did I forget to say, thank you,
never!
I thank you mother and I thank you, I THANK YOU (close the book)
The End (take a bow)
Copyright © Brigett Hurley | Year Posted 2013
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Brigett Hurley Poem
Do you know the place?
Beyond the stars where tires fall from trees.
Do you know the place?
The sky is blue but when it rains all you can see are the clouds.
Do you know the place?
Where clowns juggle tree branches with balls.
Do you know the place?
She picks Apple's from trees and eats them before the worms do.
There is a story once told about a bird who flew so high in the sky above the trees that
he could touch the stars and dive so fast that he went through a tire hole,
and landed on a clowns nose. She missed the bird because she was too busy
eating her apples with one worm in one apple.
Copyright © Brigett Hurley | Year Posted 2013
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Brigett Hurley Poem
I look forward to logging in to my Facebook and searching Google.
I think about how I will find new information on Facebook, especially recipes for the holidays, or inspiring quotes and sayings. The groups are fun to join on Facebook and I like looking at comments.
Google is great too. I really have to think about what I'm going to search. Usually, I try to search for something I'm all ready interested in.
I can't believe all the recipes I found on Facebook blogs by just clicking on a Like page about food.
Google is very easy to search and have fun with.
Copyright © Brigett Hurley | Year Posted 2014
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Brigett Hurley Poem
The wind was moving into the mist of heaven,
it is a fog of light streaming from down below,
in its eyes of realization,
into the unknown of the bliss and sound waves
echoing to be into the vastness
of the light blue sky, and beyond the enormous
bright stream of shadowy rainfalls.
Copyright © Brigett Hurley | Year Posted 2013
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Brigett Hurley Poem
Red green yellow and orange
Sitting on the bench with grape.
To no surprise. I have strawberry
The slide was curved to the right
Making a splash the sprinkles drop.
The lollipop hops,
And the slippery slope skittles.
Late to its place Now last,
I take the first and make the pounds.
Green, I say. The smiles become laughter.
The swings were swinging and the the wind was blowing, I could
Feel the dust particles rub against my face.
On the sand a drop.
Where did the lollipop go? Is it hidden, gasp!
Make the sand into a cylinder, and it will become a pop.
I will bring the lolli and the flavor of lemon. Taste.
Copyright © Brigett Hurley | Year Posted 2013
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Brigett Hurley Poem
What do I eat when I'm at the table.
I see lettuce, I see cheese and i see apples.
There are so many choices for me to make.
Its important for me to make the right one.
The best I can do is stop and think and realize that
I can only chew as much as my mouth can handle.
When it comes time to eat again, i will know that I
can have a little of each.
Why am I being so picky about how I see things.
I guess its time to drink some water.
Making the right choice requires time.
I know i'm missing something. Oh, its the exercise.
The most important one of all.
It only shows to see that thinking and smiling while I'm thinking is
nourishing and relaxing for me.
Copyright © Brigett Hurley | Year Posted 2014
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Brigett Hurley Poem
The fog left from a wintery snow
Where snow flakes glimmer to the story behind Christmas
As children laugh and play
When pine trees lighten the story behind Christmas
The skid marks of snow mobiles
Where parade mobiles add to the story behind Christmas
Along the roads in a small town
When Santa waves to the story behind Christmas
Not too far from here
Where children sing to the story behind Christmas
The path of righteous stands clear
When bells ring to the story behind Christmas
Where there is glory near
The story behind Christmas my dear
Sights of gaze and steer are frosty
When people reach out to the story behind Christmas
And held dear to the hearts of many
Where elves make toys at the story behind Christmas
The love is reminiscence in luminosity
When the clock strikes at the story behind Christmas
Not for faith to be indulged
Where the hour glass fills to the story behind Christmas
The blear insight of atrocity indisputable
When the train passes in the story behind Christmas
Reputable to the peace in question
Where pine cones reflect the story behind Christmas
Where it is an ostentatious handler
Copyright © Brigett Hurley | Year Posted 2013
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Brigett Hurley Poem
To no avail, he caught my eye-clenching on the branch of the endemic prey.
Watching the sound of a colorful array,
to be in sight of the shimmering tales of no surprises.
Held by its clenching teeth in suffering agony.
Of his mercy defeated by one leg.
Copyright © Brigett Hurley | Year Posted 2013
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Brigett Hurley Poem
A puppy I know who is now grown up
has a mature look and a fluffy look
She smiles and grins and shows your
beautiful teeth.
It's wonderful to see such a grown and mature
puppy that is the way I see! Thank You for reading
my true story of a puppy
Copyright © Brigett Hurley | Year Posted 2014
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