As the farmer was walking through his field
working out in his mind the next corn yield
till he saw something that made him glower
it looked like a single, wild , alien flower
and to his surprise he found it appealed
for up to now he had always believed
full heads of corn was what he should see
but he realised this was such a treat
so he thought to hell with the balance sheet
he would no more eradicate the weeds
and do his bit for the birds and the bees
Filed under Self compositions
The song of the lark
like sweet rainfall from heaven
melody of Spring
Filed under Self compositions
Her lipstick was red
not dull but the vivid kind
sensual promise
Filed under Self compositions
Veiled ladies dab red eyes with lace handkerchiefs, sombre looking men stand unsmiling, their eyes cast downward, reminding us that from clay we are made and to earth we shall return.
Filed under faith, Self compositions
The ramshackle tourist bus stopped in a clearing and the driver, with a broad grin explained more by sign than words that we had come to the end of the road, that we were expected to get off and trek the rest of the way. It wasn’t quite what we had expected, where were the signs and notice-boards, the cold drinks tricycle with it’s stock of cold beers and cokes. The whole area seemed strangely dark in the clammy, sticky heat. Perhaps it was due to the tall green jungle canopy blocking out the tropical sun but not the heat or perhaps it was the shame still felt, lingering in the minds of of long-forgotten men that cast a sense of gloom over the place we had come to visit, the little known, seldom visited, only remaining stretch of the infamous Siam Burma death railway.
Filed under Self compositions
O’er moorland hills and plains we see
if we look up to Eastern skies
in shades of yellow, red and green
as we greet the new sunrise
gossamer nets bedecked with dew
drying in the warming rays
rough grasses, heather tussocks too
all shimmer in the morning haze.
Filed under Self compositions
Break the captive’s chains
just to see Salome dance
an oath spawns regret
Filed under Self compositions
My writing, my books, my poetry and a bit of running.
Brett Kristian
Writing, reading, reflecting.
Independent Publisher of Poetry and Prose
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um...
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a resource for moving poetry
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Author Aspiring
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my humanity in written form
Published in Gold Dust magazine, Literally Stories, Near to the Knuckle, McStorytellers, Penny Shorts, Soft Cartel, Whatever Keeps the Lights On, and Shooter magazine.
Just another blog of random thoughts.
Aspiring to be the best at writing. Poetry lover, haiku and free verse to be precise, I hope to one day master
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Writer & Translator
Writing Advice From A YA Author Powered By Chocolate And Green Tea
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What the world needs now in addition to love is wisdom. We are the masters of our own disasters.
Writer. Feminist. Historian. Person.
When the pen takes control. 