A crow, crowing

Posted on Oct 18, 2015 in Poetry, Writing

There’s a crow, crowing through
my open window,
calling to his mates.
Cars and trucks
in the distance,
the occasional motorbike.
The whole time,
I click away on keys
who know me better
than I even know myself—
some muse I’ve never met,
and yet she tells me every day
which way to think and see
the very things that’ll get me
from point A to B
in this scrawled out story.

Concentration is ended

Posted on Nov 23, 2014 in Poetry, Writing

Concentration has ended
the cart upended,
The wheels came off the bus

It’s shiny – Cary Briel

Posted on Jun 12, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

It’s shiny
and that’s the in.
It could be a bracelet, ring,
or even—especially—
And I say, I can write this.
You wake and think,
‘I will be pretty.’
You can’t possibly know
that it’ll bring a smile,
that a beat will skip,
that you’ll draw eyes
in passing,
or from a distance,
and that it says something.
It’s shiny
and so are you.
My heart leaps,
as you pass, and I think
we knew each other,
it must be true,
in other worlds,
in other lives,
and I held your hand,
and you cried.
And I must have loved you so.

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.

Penciled – Cary Briel

Posted on Mar 26, 2011 in Poetry, Writing

I’ve penciled you,
surely I,
a thousand times,
throughout the canvas of
my thoughts—
surveyed oft’,
as land will be,
your bewitching form.