Poems
by Terry Brinkman

Sonnet CDL

 

Neater world’s hades shall bloom

Angel of each of the Seven Churches wonder

I know your work and your blunder

Exhortation promise she can’t tolerate your room

Realize how far you have fallen down the flume

Tree of life that started with thunder

The garden of God the great under

Ancient dirty Antioch Tomb

Flying roughly in a spiral like a bird

Perverse missioners clerk

Angel from the Tomb took Third

Members of the assembly of work

Tribulation and poverty curd

Stumbling and falling with a smirk

 

 

 

 

 

Sonnet CDIL

 

Long story short she’s carrying Firewood

Hilarious pretext nasty side-trip Map

Heaps of time spent on her lap

Regardless of manifest second hand boot stood

Well worth twice the money for the hood

Beyond a shadow of doubt procrastination trap

Remarked coast was clear but for the zap

Elite society shelter or shanty wood

Feeling poorly spur of the moment burst

Propitious opportunity slight extent mirth

Mendelssohn a gem in its line first

A man and his horse’s sweeper dearth

Brushing a long swathe of mire thirst

Suffice it to say sacred character birth

 

 

 

 

 

 Scampering Bag

 

Last time I saw her and now she’s back

Holding twice belly for a scampering bag

Ran up the steps holding a burning flag

Irish Catholic Penny Journal is never on their rack

Azul Eyes crying in her Irish wet rag

Breathless caught behind a Horse’s drag

She set off to cry with Jack

Steeping in Rat’s mire puffing blew

 

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