Ocean
Blown
The closeness of our breath and skin,
Remembered touch of you within,
The walls of want and waves of passion,
Our naughty-talking way to fashion,
Of two breaths, one breeze of sorts.
Your curved horizon; within contorts,
With swell of ocean and rush of seas,
Painting windy seascape memories.
- Brenneman T.
July 1, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Eyes
on Lips
See my face,
My captive smile,
And rest your eyes,
On lips a while.
You shall let,
Love curl them down.
Your legacy,
Is but my frown.
- Brenneman T.
July 1, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Why
Versus Work
Why is the entrance hidden,
To the warm green meadow,
Filled with every good thing?
Stop asking, start looking.
- Brenneman T. July 1, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Lightening
Love
Distant storm,
Thunder rumbles low.
Baby born,
Dad calls me to go.
Oh budding finite mind,
With infinite cells aglow,
Let lightening refine in you,
A faith I'll never know.
-
Brenneman T. July 2, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Wet
Red
The playing of your card,
The hand beneath my head.
The ace of hearts discard,
Wet fingers, bloody red.
- Brenneman T. July 2, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Fresh
Mind
Awakening from sleep,
To gain a moment's clarity.
All life's not rough and steep,
When met with faith and charity.
- Brenneman T. July 4, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Wherefore
Second Wind
While running in the race,
Of life's multiple illusions,
I've confused the pulsing pace,
With my ego's grand delusions.
Just when my mind's serenity,
Appears a newfound friend,
My quick-footed pal depression,
Breathes down my back again.
- Brenneman T. July 5, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
From
Emptiness to Eagle's Quest
Empty filling with TV trash,
It doesn't matter, whether soaps or Mash.
Lose all desire's hunger as Kafka said,
Starve for lack of want until all but dead.
Grow accustomed to the nothingness,
When all about seems meaningless.
Then dream of chickens you forgot to feed.
Left in cages, in want, in need.
And awaken to the talon of truth,
A chimneyed hawk, you saved it's youth.
On the Fourth of July, two thousand two,
An eagle free to fly was saved by you!
It starved for days between soot and sky,
Beating its beauty against the bricks, and why?
To know freedom, it learned what hunger is.
Now it soars and swoops, it dives, it lives!
-
Brenneman T. July 8, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Roasted
Too hot to do,
Too humid to do,
What I need to do,
This summer.
Before nine AM,
After six PM,
The rest is just,
A bummer.
-
Brenneman T. July 8, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Grandmother's
Eyes
Heaven is watching you,
With grandmother's eyes,
Crow's feet broad smiles,
Blueberry
pie sighs.
Look in with faith,
At the soul that she sees,
Rich sourwood honey,
Hid in sugarplum
trees.
- Brenneman T. July 9, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Were
We to Think of Such Things...
Surely, we may hope, were we to think of such things,
that the tiny bugs forgive us as we run over them,
ride through them on our bikes,
or swim over them in lakes.
These are today among the most innocent of our violations.
Integrity, and ultimately survival among intelligent life forms, depends more
upon our attitude than our power.
When the one hundred and fifty pounds of me collides with a being one
ten-thousandth my weight, how do I apologize?
Certainly I cannot avoid such accidents altogether, but generally, am I
respectful of the life among which I move and "have my being"?
The small are gone.
That is often the result in meetings between the grand and minut of almost every
entity, life form, or phenomenon.
Big feet have unintentionally smashed little bodies for millions of years,
and hundreds of thousands of times or more each year, over millions of acres.
Eons of inadvertently crunched ants and easily forgotten stone age critters have
defined the relationship between large and small bodies in nature.
Until recently, on our earth anyway, size usually overwhelms substance, and
without much notice.
Now, with our exponentially increasing power, what we must realize is that
frequency and ease cannot define our morality. We know better.
As with companies, countries, power, riches, fame,
the weak are swallowed as the algae is by the whale,
Or smashed like bugs on our windshields,
Without much thought but for the annoyance.
So, how big are we, really?
Are we bigger than our flags, our wallets, our homes, our jobs?
Are we bigger than our prejudice and ignorance?
Are we big enough to know our increasing weight?
Are we conscious of our impact of our detergents on the skin of an endangered
tree frog?
Are we more aware of balance in our tires or the balance in our world?
Do we respect the earth's delicate nature,
Or has our experience, power, and desire hardened us to the effect of our
actions?
The ant doesn't know what we think.
However, we do know the ant is but crudely aware.
The turtle on the highway knows a bit more,
but not enough to keep it safe after the rain.
The great apes understands even more, even reminding us of ourselves,
but however beautiful their power,
it is truly insignificant outside the bars of it's oft caged world.
Like it or not, as twenty-first century humans, we can no longer claim
ignorance.
We are responsible for our weight, and the weight of all we alter for our use.
We are designing destiny.
We must live with respect,
looking to ourselves to be the one who cares.
Ours' is a brief stewardship of this sensitively balanced earth.
We swarm. We consume. We must also protect.
The eyes of our common compassion,
and the reach of our combined wisdom and power,
must guard the dignity of the seedling,
thereby earning the respect of both the ant and Great Spirit.
We are to think of such things.
-
Brenneman T. July 10, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Our
Teacher Rain
When facing a natural storm, we must close the windows and doors to avoid
getting wet.
We must have a good roof to shed the rain, and pathways designed to carry away
the runoff to where it is no longer of issue.
Are we expecting our God to close the windows?
Why then did he give us agile hands and strong arms?
Do we expect him to repair our roofs and design our gutters?
Why then are we so multitalented and mentally adept?
It's OK to get caught in the rain.
It can even be fun sometimes.
Change can be refreshing.
Much of life is predictable, and even quite forgiving.
Water gets us wet, but we can handle that, and we do dry off.
But if you are tired of getting wet,
maybe all you need to do is a little maintenance,
or make a small adjustment in your life.
The breeze was nice last night,
But maybe it's time to close a window now.
This is what you are designed to do:
to make choices and take action.
Rain does it's work,
and so can you.
-
Brenneman T. July 10, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Peace
of Melon
Send seedless peace,
As a choice piece
Of cool watermelon in summer.
A rich red heart
Is yours.
-
Brenneman T. July 12, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Feline
Forces
Knowing there're lions in us,
and kitty-cats too,
I can't let the my roar,
Scare the meow out of you.
-
Brenneman T. July 12, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
More Than Pictures
Change my mind,
in more than pictures
or thoughts that rhyme.
Perspective, attitude,
and core beliefs
tweaked and twisted
spirit raised reliefs.
-
Brenneman T. July 15, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Essentia
As essence is by nature dense,
Love's kiss released her coma.
As fragrant flower on his broad fence,
Welcomed day with her night's aroma.
- Brenneman T. July 15, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Traveler
To My World
Traveler, you are welcome. Enter my world;
an inviting, open, and ever changing inner landscape,
leading me on to more than blind repetition of an outwardly perceived human
condition.
There is an exterior discipline I project that may condemn me,
and an interior discipline that frees me completely.
Traveler, you help me define these limits.
Where is my real boundary?
Is it the edge of my manicured lawn,
my state, country, world, or expanding universe?
Is it evident in the tip of my talking tongue,
the end of my typing fingers,
the slant of my mouth, ears and eyes?
Traveler, neighbor, you are welcome here.
Come, let us both find our way home, as students in the presence
of both natural and chosen holy vessels who ultimately define ourselves.
- Brenneman T. July 20, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Silhouette
of Hopes
Sometimes I'm not ready to write
when the word comes to me.
It's then swept from a fickle mind's consciousness.
My memory appears haphazard in exercising a varying acuity.
I'll remember a stranger's face, but not their name.
A picture of a trivial moment lingers in my mind, but why? Writing explores.
At best, my memory is an incomplete story of a biased history.
Mostly pictorial, and only inches from a dream, my recollections border fantasy,
as a silhouette of hopes I've etched in sand at the edge of a rising tide.
- Brenneman T. July 20. 2001
-----------------------------------------------
Savasana Outside
Cicada castanets,
mix with cardinal calls and crow,
beyond the background roar of jets,
a distant train blows low.
Morning yoga in the yard,
proceeds savasana outside,
lowering an ordinary ear's guard
to hear machine and nature ride.
-
Brenneman T. July 22, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Stick-tickling
Time
A simple small toy
envelops his mind;
an inquisitive boy
At stick-tickling time.
- Brenneman T. July 22, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Dim
Lit Inner Aisle
In the reflective life of one's thoughts and emotions,
ideas and feelings rub dusty covers,
as varied as the binders of books
on an obscure shelf in a community college library storage room.
Writing is one way to find a sturdy little stool along an aisle there,
thumb through them, and examine and process the pages that captivate us.
Selecting, musing, contemplating, and experimenting,
we choose to express as best we can what both most inspires and disturbs us.
- Brenneman T. July 22, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Berries
of My Own Meager Birth
How many times shall I fall
without divining what has thwarted me?
As often as I turn and retrace my way,
I find it is void of any outer, unusual obstacle.
When again I rise, and find I've felt no impact against my baffled brow.
How is it then I sense my fall and my own descent?
When the blind seed-life in me turns green shoots towards the light and heat,
I know joy in growing.
When the barren earth-vessel in me receives the life-giving rain to it's root,
I know satisfaction comes to the thirsty.
My singular seed had fallen.
I was unaware of it's small, shelled presence.
It's soil space was at once
claimed and complete, but apparently vacant.
Though the paradoxical lesson may seem slow and lonely,
the teacher's love is patient and real.
Authenticity grows from an inner nature's call,
and there is no true wildness in the taste of grafted fruit.
While the domestic root may suck dry a man-ordered earth,
I shall bear only the vine-ripened berries of my own meager, but awesome birth.
-
Brenneman T. July 24, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Circling
Anxious being,
deflated by intercourse of soul and time.
Round love's ring,
trampled as by horses hooves, yours and mine.
-
Brenneman T. July 25, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Rose
in Pleats
A red rose,
robed in pleats of darkness,
accented the black scruff of his beard.
Unheeded sweat beaded upon a deeply furrowed forehead,
and moistened the coarse hairs above his quivering lips.
Heavy breath reflected a crude existance and a sickly nature.
Smoke wheezed from a heaving chest.
Other than two charming blue tools of malice,
his puffed up face was nondescript, plain.
One felt both intimidated and awed in his presence,
attracted by his gaze, but disgusted by the lack of decency I found there.
"I should not stay here." I said to myself,
and looked for my salvation's door.
None was revealed, and my pseudo hell continued unabated.
When finally I awoke, I was relieved that he I had imagined left me with hope.
- Brenneman T. July 26, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
How
Fast Our Fate Flies
Old Pope or Ayatollah,
on this would agree,
we experience life's speed
increase exponentially.
Where is the day running,
when we'd like it to last?
To a future so stunning,
It outshines our past!
-
Brenneman T. July 26, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Mohammed Ali
He is the confidence
of all the oppressed
over the staggering opponent
of bigotry of racism.
Mediocrity called,
and he resolved to beat it.
He would gloat and sing, dance,
float and sting.
Acting in faith,
so is the way
of unbroken courage
captured in human frailty.
Say you will slow the wave
on the ocean with your fist,
and even the moon will help you.
Say you will cast prejudice
of race and religion
back to the it's origins
and even the white man will cheer you.
Your attitude in rhyme
with the punch of God's time
could return starlight
to it's source.
Your experience breathed
in the unjust knowledge
you were given,
and you exhaled
pure joy of life.
Your confidence made brass
seem gold in your morning,
and in your evening
the tarnish will not come.
You inspire the world.
Harness our egos,
so in the end our spirits
hear your final bell
defining dark beauty.
Though many tried,
we find there was no power
that could knock out your spirit.
The broken dreams of ages
are soothed by your open heart.
You are the greatest!
"It is me,
Mohammed Ali,
the greatest writer, director
and cast of all time, you see.
Is it comedy and suspense you want,
or drama and tragedy in rhyme?
Then come see. I am the star and the audience,
the greatest crowd pleaser and boxer of all time!"
-
Brenneman T. July 29, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Little
Lamb
My minute scavenged sacrifice
sized by Mary's little lamb halved thrice.
Hardly more than bone and puff of wool,
a thread's-worth often tossed with spool.
With tiny legs of lambskin bent,
to hide beneath dab of jelly mint.
Yield perfect petite burnt-offering signs.
Abdicating thimble-breathes in place of mine.
Fore the alter calls for me to burn,
but my mini-Lambchops takes my turn.
My bite-sized gift is after all,
Tasty too, besides the best I saw.
-
Brenneman T. July 29, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
On
Politics
Approach your life
with a liberal heart towards others.
A conservative discipline
is best applied respectfully to one's self.
-
Brenneman T. July 30, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Someday
Fall
After all,
even an evergreen leaf
will someday fall.
Amongst our growing
or decay,
the rain will come
to wash us
all away.
- Brenneman T. July 30, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Palate
of the Night
Wet riches of wire-cut bricks in sunlight
dripping moist their earthen hue.
Contrast the bald palate of this night,
when in cool darkness I'll dream of you.
- Brenneman T. July 30, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Aborted
Of a darkness still,
and born in stains,
the babe is but
it's own remains.
Wanted smiles
and answered prayer
lay in piles,
as underwear.
Momma's gaze
on clinic's wall;
caption says,
"Love conquers all."
- Brenneman T. July 30, 2002
-----------------------------------------------
Campin'
Wipin' clean a sauce pan,
with clump of fresh bread,
bottles tossed back 'n
thristy cheeks a' red.
Watermel'n
seeds 'n honeydew,
kids are yellin'
out "I love you!"
Splashin' in the swimmin' hole,
half the mornin' long,
laughter starts a'rollin'
right int'a song.
Evenin' crickets,
an' light'nin' bugs,
prayers in thickets
an' goodnight hugs.
Mornin's first light
an' coffee's a'brewin'
kids don't fight
with their mouths a'chewin'.
Drivin' home, one's
sleepin 'gainst t'other.
Me proud'a those youngin's
'n jus' lovin' their mother.
-
Brenneman T. July 31, 2002
-----------------------------------------------