I’ll buy a house – Cary Briel

Posted on Apr 23, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

I’ll buy a house with many floors, one within a peak, with a window to let in light, sun and moon, and an unassuming, little desk pushed against an ill-planned wall. And that’s where I’m going to write. I’ll shut the door, and the world out with it, and dream.

The sea – Cary Briel

Posted on Apr 19, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

Strong and rugged,
sailor standing, seaside,
toes in the sand.
Broad shoulders,
his hair’s getting old,
some lost but not forgotten.
Thirds and threes,
he doesn’t even know
what it means.
The sea, oh the sea!
Home calls him away.
It runs up over his feet,
the dawn of the day.

Your heel – Cary Briel

Posted on Apr 18, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

Boxes,
shelves, wire-type,
I remember.
White Swan marks
without a feather.

I can’t describe
the blissful terror,
left of pencils,
Post-Its, right—
you pressed tight.

I’ve known of late,
sitting,
staring—
nothing.
willing

with a look.
doodling
fifteen pencils
sure
away.

Your heel
has lifted,
stocking running,
fifteen times,
I memorized.

Goodnight, you – Cary Briel

Posted on Apr 10, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

The world spins ’round,
and I must, too,
turn in.
Goodnight, you.