Brian's Poetry
a vine like a thread, poem 13 by brian
By by brian
Jun 3, 2015 - 8:52:03 PM

a vine
like a thread
goes out
in red
through an eye
of a needle
im the one
playing a fiddle
turning the spindle
dont dwindle
or dawdle
snap the pin in place
learn to coddle
paint your face
with haste
and grace
state your case
has to be some perspective
to gain
whilst licking
this window pane
from a higher plane
i remain
with stains
on my tongue
all the acidity
inside of me
who am i
what am i
what is
in the halls
of his royal grace
i feel so out of
right now
i choose to bow
humble adoration
for this position
here at the window
looking out
in all directions
following the
of children
and space
amazing powers
of observation
serve us sweetly
a fly never did
stay too long
im just a little
from his bog
out back
down the hill
lying at the bottom
of the grande
i trod
along patties
searching for friends
to invite up to
the main house
big house
up on the hill
where i am
looking for participants
to paint
quaint syllables
longing to fulfill
as commuters
on a train
to the window
from a higher plane
staying home
to watch the rain
try to refrain
from dancing in the aisles
unless no one is looking
then feel free
dancing fools
as quick as mules
in the heat of
the desert
i am a peasant
with a pheasant
a present
to present
an offering
most willing
to become inside this seed
a reed or flute
can be played
the same way
never comes the day
for all ways
always in tall ways
i listen to winds
to sun
and moon
stars and cars
comets and bonnets
llamas and commas
ropes and coats
colors and diaries
i have inquiries
they all smile
when they see me coming
cuz they know
i will
show up
every time
right on time
i never miss
this much is
pull the curtain
for all to see
pretty please

More poems by Brian can be found at

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