bryn's poetry

Why write poetry

Some of my poems

Poem 1

Snow cascades down these tombstones

That I walk through this very moment

nveloping their marble in mutism

That leans against the silence of spring

Bulbous in its bearing of winter’s

Cotton sensibility.

As water does in hidden creeks

Smoothing out boulders in secret

That we contemplate without feeling

The passage of time,

Snow slides over the engraved names.

Or maybe a loved one's hand

Has passed by still alive

Clearing syllables,

allowing phonemes to sound through

love, praise and yearning

In between the vestiges of quite

Springing out of routine greetings

That now they believe to be

the only ones who remember.

Snow is falling on my head,

Freezes the gaze that in respect

Should be circling around the buried

Giving the same amount of time

To each and every one of them,

May none feel abandoned,

Asking them lifelong doubts.

Did you also hate losing hours

Spent shaving, doing eyebrows?

Scraping egg stuck in the pan?

Fixing broken faucets?

Did you fear death?

Do you fear death now?

Do you see now

A new spin of the kaleidoscope

Turned by your disjointed wrist bones,

Do colors pierce differently

Now that rot has hollowed you out?

In the snow that curtains

Down black tree branches,

With contours diffused

By the grey winter clouds,

A vision of my grandfather

Slides past.

He has no tombstone

But dreams of his epitaph

"Did you really think

I would leave you all alone

In this world?"

The only condition for his satisfaction

With his death arrangements

Is that my grandmother must die first.

His mother stopped eating

When her hands were too old

To paint away her white hairs.

Aging was her death,

So off she went.

My grandmother

Has no tombstone yet

But knows already

What her epitaph will be

"I don't remember any of that."

She has only one condition

For her satisfaction with death.

Heaven must erase everything

Except her childhood.

Her mother threw herself

Out of the hospital's window.

Sickness was her death,

So away she flew.

In this very moment

My feet crunch frozen grass blades

And my grandfather sits alone

Devouring life through a videos

Of other people's lives.

My grandmother sits alone

Living life through shows

About imaginary lives.

Swaying on guilt's pinhead

I think they already found their death.

I call them from this cemetery,

"Can you hear me?

Is the connection stable?

Hello? Hello? I love you!

Yes, everything is going well.

What did you do today?"

They always answer "nothing"

And I never take the silence

As an opportunity to ask

All the questions I have for the dead.

I keep those for candles lit

In honor of corpses I've met

In my imagination alone,

Believing more in apparitions

Then in the experience of those

Who think they have lived

All there was to live

While their breath

Still steams in the cold.

Can you sculpt a snowman

Off the snow blanketing graves?

When you scoop it out

With your ungloved hands,

It feels like blown up silk

and lively fragility.

Would you think it an insult

to build a snowman

Right where the heads of the dead

Are laid to rest?

If you are still alive

When the sun bursts into death

Will there be snow still,

And if it is will you want

To build a snowman?

If it turns out that you are dead,

Will there be descendants

Of warms, rats, and cats,

Shaping creatures of snow

Named with words

We will never need?

Will they die at their feet

After the sun's last breath?

Poem 2

Trees don't return for they never arrive.

Seeds settle, roots curl,

And propel their beginning,

Spreading, as they tune into each other

Conquering, through intertwined living.

I constantly go back, had countless arrivals,

To the same old houses.

Return has become a waiting room

Where I sit, feel my legs expand with relief,

Cross them, sigh, cross them the other way,

Get concerned about varicose veins,

But keep them crossed all the same.

Restlessly waiting for something real

Inhaling fumes from memories

That used to take my breath away.

I won't allow torpor to take over,

So I get a hold of a magazine

Resting on the coffee table

Hewn from wood, standing silently.

Icons dotted the glossy paper,

And had neon green titles

Labelling their characters.

On the cover:

"The eternal return might be real. Here's why you should worry."

I throw the magazine back on the table.

The terrifying thing is

That the purpose of all this

Could be explained millennia away

Children of our children forever going

Through the relief of revelation

Without ever being able

To return in our aid.

What does a dead paper

know about any of it?

I hope when I'm about to die

I do, in fact,

die.

So loved ones who've come to say goodbye

Don't have the inconvenience

Of returning to their homes

Without tragedy's alibi.

So I won't have to return the gesture

And stand next to their death beds

To hold their hands goodbye.

Trees stand alive through their feet,

Expanding away for millennia.

And if halted by exhaustion

They shrink down so they may spread

Through roots of others like them.

I hope when I'm about to die

I do, in fact,

die.

So I may return to earth,

Become part of a tree,

And keep leaving forever

Poem 3

The floor still smelled like rain

Oozing puddles as big as lakes.

He surfed them, laughed,

Carefree as cherubim.

In the echoes of wet roads

Some questions took their place

Were they looking?

What did they see?

The day lagged, climbing up his back.

On a morning full of sunrays

She was waiting her turn to swing,

When silence hit a child.

As crimson flowed down his face

Some questions took their shape.

Am I somewhere?

Is that pain?

Screeches cut the veil.

Windows down, wheels rolled on

He asked for the same song

Over and over again.

Not because he liked it,

But to reach another's smile.

Is that it?

Was I good?

The noose had taken hold.

Cobble stones under her feet,

Jasmine's scent caressing trees

She walked holding change

That belonged to someone else.

She bought three pastries

Dreaming of more,

And of never being caught.

Will I grow up?

Will it be this?

She lost her step on the way home.

Poem 4

Fisted to a dot

Rolled down onto itself

My head pounds my soft palate

The lady pressing my side as the subway slides home

Has a leather bag of the crocodile kind.

It bites my arm and furiously shakes

I'm sure of it,

I know.

Contour around the scales

Mesmerizes an inner beast

That my eyes fail to stare down.

It feeds on the luxury of metal

Flattened to a plastic cut.

My mouth salivates with just the thought.

My head presses more,

My viscera begin to rise.

Sometimes I dream of using a credit card to

Slit my goat eyes, turn them into moon.

A thin cloud would poultice the wound

Blurring the fountains of night's light.

"Inne bet...oneti..ane..ther olll th....r mi.."

Widen your eyes, stretch your neck,

Open your mind and follow your finger.

Birth and death.

"In between the one thing and the other all the days are mine"

Wrote a somebody under candlelight,

too lonely to think about night.