Poems
by Terry Brinkman

 

Sea Cold

 

Sue Gruff escapes my Christmas Party briskly on horseback

Her gemmed fingers holds tightly to my best wine mug

She was left with only one options Pumpkin pie under her hat

Such a Ghost Woman’s Star motley sludge

Honey and bread in the joust of life

Her old folly’s sea cold tearless eyes as we kiss

Brief finger gesture too okay my advance

Over her right shoulder and army green World War II Bag

Between thick her thick plotting maladroit hair an Ivory comb

Under her silk skirt green jogging shorts

 

 

 

 

 

Down the Street

 

This old mans, sea cold stare as he watches Old Saint Nick

Her riding a pink Sea- Horse an escaped elf

She’s putter perfect with jockeyed Annie over a Pine Pint

Ghost woman ay under his minds-eye

Not a weak outcast woman

Old Hag and Young gossoon to marry Christmas at noon

Blue dust moon shadow of a Sled and Eight Reindeer

Including Gods good for everything or nothing

 Sloppy Eyed poker playing Annie limp opening her fireside sock

 

                                                                                                                                               

 

 

 

MAGNA

 

Jack Priest prays guitar at Wendover’s Christmas Parade

Mahamanuatara wearing his snot green shirt

Speaks he exhales fetid cocoa breath

Maze of chairs to dark to find a seat sat on the floor

Slightly open Chalk-Scrawled front door all to enter

His cayenne pigeon house after Christmas Mass for Coffee

Elko Steersmen always drinking Irish coffee at the Christmas Parade

Priest Crucified shirt’s hanging on his Nobel Pine Christmas                                    Tree

 

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