Poems
by Terry Brinkman

My Moon

 

Jolly good Irish Rose Blood Gin

My moon and my sun ran very cajole

Sabastian sitting beyond her dog’s control

Wide brim hat to hide the sun from her alabaster skin

She plays an old Black Forest Violin

Looking under the bed for what’s not there patrol

Snotty nose Deacon, climbing the Maypole

Juices of the Olive Press from Berlin

Sleeping on the grass, in a bed roll

 

 

 

Moon Light Ashore

 

Effigy swing arm hay stacker house

Loom of sea moon light sneaks ashore

Happy hunger sleepwalker bachelor

Wade’s still an old sloppy eyed louse

In the maze of dark runs a mouse

Before the cock crows times four

Trying to hold water in your hands off shore

Wane turned up trousers scratched by grouse

 

 

 

Sleepy Whale 437

 

Stood below the window on the brink

Vaster moon incipient quirk

June’s Moon she folds yarn

Under the window eating his sack lunch on the cheap

In in the liberty next to the Green Barn

Hope the rain mucks his lunch keep

La lamp is gleaming in the dawn

Eleven stones and four pounds per sheep

                               

 

 

Sleepy Whale 379

 

Wearing a Kilt at Piper Downs

 Traverse past her to my seat

An Alabaster Ghost woman

In rich new silk

Drinking ghost candle light

Fair woman and dark man

In the corner dancing

Woman with sea cold eyes

Smoking hand turned cigarettes

Pale silent to sit

High minded bar maid

 

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