Happy Birthday

Posted on Feb 15, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

Tack up the ribbons,
the banners, with tape,
Set the table with tablecloth,
bright cups and plates.
Tell Grandma it’s time to bring in the cake.
Let all the faces crowd round you,
smiling and singing.
Happy Birthday so loud,
your ears are ringing.
Blow out the candles
with closed eyes and wish.
Pass ’round the cake
on bright, party dish.

Farewell, Misty – Cary Briel

Posted on Jan 31, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

Words will not capture
your sweetness,
your kind and tender heart.
Words can’t tell
how you loved,
how you were loved.
My heart wishes not to say goodbye.
It is sick.
My belly is aching and tight,
my head, hot.
Without you, the world is empty.
Blank looks fill the house.
Behind each is a cry.

The mud – Cary Briel

Posted on Jan 15, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

Vainly try, tall, soft grasses,
to emulate what passes
you by.
Bare leg and thigh.
You and I glide,
dizzy and dew streaked,
past oak and elm,
each overwhelmed.
Past otter and eagle,
sparrow, the stray beagle.
And we drop in the mud,
you and I, it dulling our touch.
But I’d become it with you again.
scrawl, sin’s dirty pen.

The old oak – Cary Briel

Posted on Nov 1, 2010 in Poetry, Writing

The old oak swayed
as I drove away,
my oldest friend
though I not his.
Many he’s known
for many a year
of creak and groan,
from acorn
’til I bought this home.
And now he’ll know another.

If you were a tree – Cary Briel

Posted on Oct 23, 2010 in Poetry, Writing

If you were a tree, you’d be an ash,
so tall and straight, I’d walk right past
the other trees and climb your limbs—
first hand, then foot,
at any whim
or fantasy,
and if I were high
in your small branches, to the sky,
you’d be so strong,
you’d hold my weight,
and I’d stay with you
very late.

My worried hair – Cary Briel

Posted on Oct 17, 2010 in Poetry, Writing

Is it acid
or just the void—
from the coffee
or perhaps the noise?
Is it apathy,
is it love
or am I smitten?
Should I know?
Should I care?
Black or white,
my worried hair.

The red maple – Cary Briel

Posted on Sep 25, 2010 in Poetry, Writing

The red maple dies
but the birds don’t know.
They stand amidst
bare branch and leaf.
They nest in rotten knots
that serve their needs.
mark their calendars.
What disease,
so unwelcome
and untimely,
found you my friend?

Your cute feet – Cary Briel

Posted on Sep 5, 2010 in Poetry, Writing

Your cute feet I planted in the rows of my garden
between a radish and squash.
I’m planning to pluck them and make a nice salad,
but first your toes must be washed.
When I see your white ankles I’ll know that your ready—
I’ll take out my best silverware.
But I’ll not likely pluck them or dare ever eat them,
but I’ll sit all the day and just stare.

Truth or dare – Cary Briel

Posted on Sep 5, 2010 in Poetry, Writing

Look upon me with lifted up eye,
replace all my devils with yours,
for I’d much rather live in the fire with you
than to live in a room without doors.
Strip off your clothes and skip through the coals,
it burns off all of our hair.
I knew you’d be game for the dream when I asked
if you wanted to play truth or dare.

Frayed band-aid – Cary Briel

Posted on Jan 5, 2010 in Poetry, Writing

Frayed band-aid,
thank you for being brand name.
It’s two showers later
and you’re still there.
Soaked with your telltale blood smear
you tell—
You betray to all passers by
my slip—
Better you’d lie.