Poems
by Terry Brinkman

 

Sleepy Whale 234

 

Lean on me

She’s a bit weak on her pins

Pass the sentry-box with stones

Sinew less and wobble coffin of stones

Gloria Seventy two out of eighty odds

Cucked hat arm in arm pure amateur

Seven last words on the cross

Berry Ford’s sacred music

Moody and swanky Mozart’s twelfth mass

Immortal numbers veritable sensation

Jesuit fathers hymn sacred edifice

Suffice it to say hear her

Brushing a long swathe of mire

 

 

 

 

 

Sleepy Whale 299

 

Arguing about law and history

Great Clark Street’s incumbent

Invincible ignorance backing his luck

Our lost tribe’s potteries

Mangy snout up old world

Tyrian right to fish

Limerick lace Greek Merchants

Far-famed water horses

Die of Consumption

Doing the tiff, hell with them

God light sideways of the Son

 

 

 

 

 

Sonnet CCXIV

 

Maze of dark dishonors of the best

Her eyes giving way to tears for nothing

Stole an arm around her waist to hear her sing

Impetuous fellow must be from the west

Cast shadows over her childhood’s crest

Her Blue eyes glistering with tears last evening

Hair slightly flecked with gray, a long kissed guest

Gazing out the window’s heavenly Azul glass

Have mercy on her the end is so near

Holiday’s lattice window Christmas

Verge of tears short sighted eyes to volunteer

 

 

 

 

 

Sleepy Whale # 46

 

Son of a sea cook

Slightly disturbed in his sentry box

Beggarly striver coastwise

Tolerably pink

Boisterously trolling

 

Redoubtable sank scene

An Ax to grind

Effusion skin of the goat

Day of reckoning

 

Irish soil growing tobacco

Monopolizing conversation

Inside out silence

Marked the termination undismayed

Never the less held to his main

 

 

 

 

 

Sonnet CLXXIII

 

Once you are dead, you are dead Gin

Like a burr sticking in a horse’s cajole

Unshed tears the golden rule control

Unmentionables full of her wet skin

Playing stone heaps of dead Butterflies on her Violin

The last glow of fleeting day patrol

Faintly sent of urine on the shadow less Maypole

Corps rising salt-white in the streets of Berlin

If you fail, try again inside or out it’s the plot

Bluest Irish blue silky seductive blindfold

Gathering twilight curiosity like a Robot

Voice like a Pick Ax, whit washed nuns of old

They kiss in the dark, and never tell the spot

 

 

 

 

 

VISIT

 

Met my oldest son, inside at the Logan Airport

Snow was falling Christmas Day

He and the kids parked the car

Met me out concourse A.

 

We drove from Boston to Ashland

                                                No pub was open

To get a beer

Talked about the kids school

                                Then the conversation dragged

Looked out the window to see, we were here.

 

 

 

 

 

Sonnet CCXXXVII

 

Lighted crave carefully running Dragonfly

Semitransparent Irish Blue Shirt

She fell below the sill tearing her skirt

Extinguished the candle with a Barfly

Drew two spoon seat deal glorify

Sun dam trench restlessness in the desert

Hydrokinetic turgidity in alert

Extinguished the sterility’s lullaby

Circumpolar ice caps star

Semitransparent semicircular Rocket

Imperturbability peninsulas Guitar

Down-ward-trending precious metal Sprockets

Cataracts whirlpools maelstrom bizarre

Ocean flowing rivers in the pocket

 

 

Rate this poetry.

Copyright is reserved by the author. Please do not reproduce any part of this article without consent.