Poems
by Terry Brinkman

 

Unshed Tears

 

Unshed tears over her steaming mug of cider

Her skirt fringe was two index fingers wide

Necessity lost virtue for a bride

Grecian vice genius Sky-Glider

Awful clever cat’s wild oats tree climbing outsider

Hair and old tongue green died

Daughter doing clever sketches fireside

Correspondence nook-shortens decider

The Ghost-Girl left behind a chill

Earthquake escape did not come willing

Shrew winter cry of Daffodils

London’s bedchamber partners chilling

War-wick passionate Pilgrim’s whippoorwill

She was not to blame less thrilling

 

 

 

 

 

Before Rested

 

Creaked galliard pain in my back

Most honest zeal in a bag

Dutiful provincial flag

Hasty bowing in a dark Cardiac

Bure hole in my coffin rack

Stick pocking the bag

Before rested server in drag

My knee cap hurting clack

One whiff of Blue Blew

Fed-up with cold dinner

Apes of lofty lane crew

Side door to the Roller Spinner

Sepulchers Irish blue

Fault with many a good woman’s breadwinner

 

 

 

 

 

Aurora Borealis

 

Alderman’s red floating friction

Late Lord Mayor under Moss

Vigorously in Aurora Borealis loss

Large green eyes white silk Scarf addiction

Flying Dutchman lying in Covid affliction

Apparatuses tie for the boss

Mutual hobgoblin monster’s gloss

Venetian May Poles chiefly benediction

Moe’s Motor Lodge my pal’s opal direr

Elbow length Baseball Glove Ball Dress adventure

Tortoise quizzing dun sink for hirer

Her huge Opossum Muff venture

Waste pine held with by bailing wire

Sleety day objectionable person’s indentures

 

 

 

 

 

Good Lit Views

 

Hasty short hand finger sights

His hand into her vest pocket

Good lit views non-illuminating

Long wind closing at the Red Clif Museum

Butterfly flutters flight after midnight dreams

Tree forks hue and tearless cry

Fox and geese playing in my backyard

Artist unquiet ghost bitters

No vixen bully tapster’s

Alarmed face her inward light

Tell me in my ear as I snore

Vestal lamp shadow hang over her bed

Sooth Sayers Bird and bee’s mishap

Breathe another spirit reconciliation  

 

 

 

 

 

Hip High

 

Plum juice dribbles from her mouth down my chin

Wiping off with her pink tong

Bit nervy reminds me of Antisthenes rung

Been walking in blarney muck what a win

Her hip high new boot heels on my back

Hand to her chin filling the air with laugher

Dark woman looks out for the squalls

Spitting stones out of her mouth towards me

Walked abreast silently north

 Sour Pint for a drink before and after midnight

Words of words for words true

The forest muttering in our Irish whiskey

What of it offering my Mustang ride taste

Wandering Ashland’s Woods with Bud in hand

 

 

 

 

 

Truth Stranger

 

Coral pink crinkled Ice Skate

Class covered Irish bisected electromagnetics

Utah Weekly newspaper potential poetic

Long lacerated black olives in oleaginous state

Marks of hospitality his and Gail’s date

Joko-serious silence host jocose sympathies

Cocoa contemplated but suppressed synthetic

Concave surface of a spoon three sips late

Relinquishing hysterical still burdensome

Two lacerated scrub suits hanging in the Museum

Oval basket half empty Christendom

Truth stranger than fiction still lonesome

Rise in temperature filiform crematorium

Jar of burned Irish cream light Platinum

 

 

 

 

 

Awful Clever Cat

 

 Unshed tears hang over her wife’s life

Lightly with two index fingers knife

That is a necessity virtue for every bride

Grecian vice genius glider

Awful clever cat’s wild life outsider

His grand old tongue died

Loneliest daughter clever fireside

Correspondence nook-shortens French east=side

Girl was left behind no vest with a chill

Earthquake come’s afternoon

Shrew ill-favored life of Daffodils

Blue Widows London bedchambers chilling

War-wick-shine passionate whippoorwill

She was to blame speech thrilling

 

 

 

 

 

Most Honest

 

Creaked briskly galliard voluble pain

Most honest broad-brim zeal

Dutiful fallowed provincial

Hasty bowing in a dark alley

Bure a hole in her coffin

Stick poking the rear bag

Rested server piped in treble

My knee cap is still hurting

Susan’s one whiff of blue bad-gas

Fed-up with her Ice-Cold Dinner

Her legs covered with lofty lane brew

Enter the side door for one more drink

Sepulchers of Irish blue Hair

Fault halted many a good woman

 

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