Poems
by Terry Brinkman

 

 

Sonnet CLXXXVI

 

I knew your work you write

Christ speaks with divine authority to men

Her right hand held Seven Stars, the left a pen

Caesars were penetrated with Seven Stars light

Your entrance has stuffed after midnight

Angels of each of Seven Churches times ten

Do not be afraid I am the now and the then

Son of man, wearing an ankle length robe alabaster white

Sinful ghost women won’t see God in vain

Perverse missionary’s angel of the laughter

Members of the church for their works insane

Polished grass voice sounds of rushing rafter

Realize how far you have fallen repent your profane

Dignity that belongs to the ancient of days hereafter

 

 

 

 

 

Sleepy Whale # 104

 

Candle stuck in a bottle-neck

Sines shrill

Wander lurk peer from warders

Hairy arses tattoos

Laughter of the men from the lane

More power form sprawled

Carver girl signs catchall

Bell-tuber against a dustbin

Muffled by his arm and hat

Ash plant in his left hand

Flourishing Jockey cap

Low on his brow

A sneer of discontent

 

 

 

 

 

Freckled with Gray

 

Hair slightly freckled with gray tonight’s plight

Gazing out an open window in a dreamy rest

Her sleep worth its weight in Gold tonight

Blue eyes glistening with hot tears oppressed

Spiritual in its ivory like purity reign

She kissed away the hurt-ness in me

Speaking far in the distance to complain

Girls will be girls like thee

 

 

 

 

 

Sonnet CCXXXXIII

 

Crossed-legged alabaster stockings spilling Red Wine

Impetuous fellow strength of the land

Her eyes giving way to tears so grand

Cry nicely on the cutting board of pine

Hair slightly flecked like gray swine

Wisk well with her left hand

Misrepresented entanglements of contraband

That’s not for her to sign

Boston Times missed their stop

Candle stuck in the bottle-neck of beer

She wanted his ball too, having won the Lollipop

Stole an arm around his fear

Her rumpled stockings began to drop

Worthy of her salt Champagne dear

 

 

 

 

 

Sonnet CLXVIII

 

Nest to the fireplace at Squatters

Purring hearth sitting cat

Madam wearing frog green hat

Drink beer not water

Going here with my daughter

Turn down the thermostat

Beer seeps in a ghost woman vat

She needs a drinking spotter

Horizontal crack in White Flint Glass

Black Forest Grandmother clock

Irish face cloth at last

Dark Lady Fair Man won’t talk

He just pinched her ass

We just heard a shoot out on the sidewalk

 

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