Poems
by Terry Brinkman

 

Rhythm Of Words

 

Midnight my time for Rocking-Horse walking path of brick

Rhythm over sand furrows of my son

Woven fox fond tweed on his skeleton

Hiking society Walking Stick

Flint Glass Biscuit Tin Arsenic

Alabaster silent simpleton

Ivory raised silk phenomenon

Vague loneliness doing arithmetic

Perfectly true beer high

Ravine’s fragrance Palace

Mescal brooding silence horrifies

Beckoning Alice

Velvet azure of Blue-Berry Pie

Last swig of the Chalice

 

 

 

 

 

Rock and Cactus

 

Sheep-herders sleeping straw

Laughed merrily sleeping in her Cadillac

Wooden shutters gruffly broken clack

Ghastly plateaus pine guffaws

Rock and Cactus backyard See-Saw

Rocky ramparts dry hay stack

Methadone racy Zodiac

Gracefully sleeping Awe

Blinding Zig-Zag flash

Star shadows face

Poignancy bitter trash

Her hauntingly sweet embrace

Salted scaled ass rash

Remorse of her grace

 

 

 

 

 

Lapses of Purely

 

Medium pair of skates

Something surprised electromagnetics

Water Lily poetic

Lapses of purely erring date

Whipping Post came too late

Home life permeated sympathies

Loop Line Railway mate

Crackling Yule Log Burdensome

Cries incoherently in the museum

Indecent Christendom

Alleged case quarrelsome

Cobbler’s especial Crematorium

Mosaic Azul prosily Platinum

 

 

 

 

 

Antisthenes Flag

 

Mary’s Plum juice dribbles from her mouth down my back

Wiping off with her pink actuated lips with my handkerchief rag

Bit nervy sleeping at my feet reminds me of Antisthenes flag

Been running in blarney muck unveil cardiac

Her hip high black boot heels on view above hanging rack

Hand to her chin pulling whiskers filling the bag

Alabaster woman looks out for squalls drag

Spitting sunflower stones out the window back

Abreast silently kissing as the north wind blew

Ail drink before and after dinner

Words of words for words too Blue

The forest muttering a backhand spinner

What it too you my Kingdom for a brew

Wandering Ashland’s Woods winter

 

 

 

 

 

Ferries and Gnomes

 

Red Butte Garden in early spring when morning dew is frost in the shadows

Old Sociology Professors and first year Freshmen Students

Explain sometimes on quite early morning walks in the Garden 

As the sun just peeks over the mountain out the corner of your eyes

You can see Ferries and Gnomes in the trees playing hid and seek

Turning as quickly as you may, you can never catch them

Maybe it’s just the morning’s tall shadows playing tricks

 

 

 

 

 

Ice Rink

 

Mottle affairs at Pica-work

Sleepy Whale’s poetry ink

Her unshed teared eyes pink

Milk oozing lonely goat jerk

Red silk stockings lurk

Sabastian’s Ice-Rink

Sheeting sea tide link

Ghost woman’s netting quirk

Crying in yarn

Deserters Indrises cheap

Wine dark drinking Barn

Lace fringed celestines Bar-Keep

Weasel rats rice turds, darn

Knock-Kneed nerves girl sleep

Wood panel Bar-fly

Falling screech-owls cries

Bullock-be-friending  Auctioneer

Pyridine pomelos Lear-Cheer

Sad lost anemones lie

Noble Lord of the manor Embrace

 

 

 

 

 

Floating Corps

 

Alderman’s red floating Corps friction

Cold Chain of life Lord Mayor Moss

Vigorously overnight agreement Aurora Borealis boss

Large dark eyes Pink Articulated Lips addiction

Hither known for lying affliction

Lifesaving apparatuses loss

After midnight hobgoblin poor man’s glossary

Venetian Mass May Poles benediction

Moe’s regal Lodge opal direr

Elbow length Bee-Hive Ivory Gloves adventure

Tortoise shell laying eggs dun skink hirer

Lost for forty nights venture

Bleeding left hand blood covered bailing wire

Sleety days Paper-Boy objectionable indentures

 

 

 

 

 

Crouching Over

 

Her stockings fell loose over her ankles

Red Ink Pen stained back pocked of her trousers

With lips of Pink, she was perched on the stool behind the bar

Crouching over the bar kissing her cat

Perceived two different points an observation

Green Turf dancing above the bar

Tearless eyes she stood at the window

Watched increasingly vaster moon incipient

May Moon, she’s folding a well-worn diaper

Sitting crossed legged eating her sack lunch

Fire at the liberty next to the Green Barn

Hope the rain mucks us to keep

La Lamp is still gleaming at dawn

Weight of eleven stones in her sleep

 

 

 

 

 

Kissed the Best

 

Her dancing eyes admonition kissed the best

Spiritual marriage in an Alabaster Ivory like ring

Seated by her companions we sing

Joyous little laugh said she would move west

Irish Blue eyes Red Hair a woman’s crest

Nesting stick clattering under her wing

Occupants of the party buried-out last evening

No ice lime-water her request

Morning brightness in the stained glass

Haunting girlish shyness drinking warm beer

Cross legged sitting smoking Grass

Proceeding down the sage far and near

Singing practice before Mass

Witchy bluest lustrous volunteer

 

 

 

 

 

Cold Fowl Cigars

 

Midnight now begins to write

All that kills, scraping men

Her ghost held with a haunted pin

Ghost Woman glimmered in still night

Putrefied grave’s Moon-Light

Dancing on the bowling green ten

Gravely oaths affidavits until then

Cold fowl cigars smoking at starlight

Sleeping Maggot beds wake us in vain

Lilla tree dang laughter

Doing it twice is insane

Such a rooted dislike thereafter

Green eyes with a sappy Red-Head profane

Sub-normal level of adhockery rafter

 

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