My heart envisions what my eyes refuse to see. ~Poet Walter J Wojtanik
The following collection of poems have all been written to the daily prompts posted by Robert Lee Brewer for the Poetic Asides November Chapbook Challenge.
My heart envisions what my eyes refuse to see. ~Poet Walter J Wojtanik
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From my muse to your eyes.
THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET'S HEART 
GAME, SET AND MATCH
The opinions you serve up
miss the net and fall short of love.
Each volley you strike
puts me out. You have set me up
to play your game, even though
you hit me with your backhand smash.
You have the advantage
and think you hold all the aces.
It’s not my fault that you let
me hang, that baseline was too far.
I was all in for mixed doubles,
but apparently that just wasn’t your racquet.
So, be assured. I will rally, and find your
sweetspot (I believe I have the balls to pull it off!)
This is set point, and the match is at stake.
It was an honest mistake. Give me a rematch,
or I’ll get all McEnroe on your ass.
OUT? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?…
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 1 November Chapbook
CLOSE COVER BEFORE STRIKING
It
all
starts
with a spark.
Striking is what sets
you aflame, and it’s a shame
your pyrotechnics last
just so long. But
when first lit
your heat
is strong,
alas you
f i z z l e
when it
dr iz zl es
or your fing-
ers are bre-
ached. So
have no fear
there’s an-
other right
here and I
will keep
t h i n g s
b r i g h t
a s l o n g
a s t h i s
other match
l i g h t s !
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 1 November Chapbook
Oh, yeah – colours have a special vibe to them 🙂 I’d say, they match perfectly with the words.
Great prompt, Mariya. Thanks for popping over to see.
I specially came to check the colors.
Already loved the words 🙂
Thanks. Wished the formatting stayed here though.
MY SOCK IS MISSING ITS MATE
Where could it be?
I cannot see.
That blasted sock
is hiding from me.
It looks like this one,
but not as worn,
the color’s faded.
I’m so forlorn.
It took a scamper
from the hamper
it needed washing
a chance to pamper
all the fibers
it was knit with,
this missing stocking
is a nit wit.
Beneath my shoe,
my feet are blue,
these little piggies
sure miss you!
My feet are cold,
without protection,
oh wooly foot mitten,
wither your direction?
I’m running late
you reprobate,
I need your function;
I need your mate.
I have no time,
the point is moot,
I’ll put another
on my foot.
These mismatched argyles,
lacking style,
I think I’ll hide
this pair a while.
If it returns
by some odd chance,
I will cease
my barefoot rants.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 1 November Chapbook
MISMATCHED MONICKER
The Bard once asked, “What’s in a name?”
By any other, a rose would smell the same.
From our birth, names were assigned
to keep things straight in our minds.
But what is truth if called a lie?
Would folks still see things eye-to-eye?
Take the beleaguered platypii,
as funny looking as their name.
In the clearing they will lie
duck-bills facing all the same.
What is it they have on their minds
with that label they’ve been assigned?
Throughout the day we’re faced with signs,
though clearly written to the eye.
They sometimes seem silly to the mind,
but heed these signs, be true to your name.
For in the end, they’re all the same
and we play our hands as our cards lie.
Fond of my own name? I won’t lie,
from my father and grandfather, it was a sign,
that our three names would be the same.
I could stand to man their chins or eyes,
but I was saddled with their name.
Sure, I could have done much worse in my mind.
Don’t get me wrong, I really don’t mind,
but I want to make my own name! I can’t lie,
it has afforded me some fame; this name – my name,
as if emblazoned on a sign
eight miles high into the sky
or 3 x 5, it’s all the same.
My name and I are not the same,
I am unique (in my own mind).
Stuck with this heart and poet’s eye,
I see things skewed and write that lie.
And under the title someday I will sign
a pithy passage o’er my name.
A Name is a name is my name all the same.
For in my mind, it’s what I’m assigned
and through these eyes, I’ll let sleeping fish lie. What’s in a name?
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 1 November Chapbook
MATCHES
Matches.
Everything one-to-one.
Mirrored, similarities same.
Both alike. They are duplicates.
Replicas are they. Things overlaid exactly.
Copy-to-copy, face-to-face. Things matching.
Front to back to front,
Matching things. Face-to-face, copy-to-copy.
Exactly overlaid things, they are replicas.
Duplicates are they, alike both.
Same similarities mirrored
one-to-one. Everything
matches.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 1 November Chapbook
IN THE FULLNESS OF LUNAR LUCIDITY
How strangely still the night sky seems.
For it holds the hopes and dream of lovers
lost in the romance of this bright night.
Hands clasped, sighs gasped to fill each other
with the breaths that love has placed within.
And in the moment they embrace
They are warmed by the moonbeam’s own embrace.
It highlights her face and has him bursting at the seams
not able to contain the emotion within.
It is in that fleeting flash that they are confirmed as lovers
and the clearness of that thought pleases each other
to no end. They find the allure in the brilliance of the night.
This is indeed a lover’s night.
A night where their closeness makes their hearts race
and the depths of souls so blessed, touch the other
deeply and unconditionally. Traditionally focused, it seems
nights like this should never end, this night for lovers.
For the moon had brought them together to begin with. In
the gentility of this lunar lucidity resides within
true love’s way. It is that longing that drives this night.
The full moon is the clean slate upon which lovers
inscribe the promise of the future’s passionate embrace.
He loves her; she loves that he loves and seems
committed to secure and protect her. Others
had graced her threshold on other
nights as this. But the expectations she carried within
were never fully realized. This moment seems
different; there is something enchanting about this night.
It is this moon that holds them in its arms, an embrace
that this night offers often to lovers.
And she loves him in this moonlight, as he loves her.
They find logic in these feelings that others
had found through the ages. It is the full moon they embrace,
the constant over time that pulls these emotions from within
and exposes them to the scrutiny of this love strewn night.
How strangely still the night sky seems.
It seems lovers find their clear path
in the fullness of lunar lucidity. A night unlike any other
embraces them in the comfort of love possessed within.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 2 November Chapbook
`fullness of lunar lucidity’ – love it, Walt.
LUNAR LUNES
Heaven bound orb
you draw upon our hearts
and high tides.
To the moon and back
man has traveled.
One giant leap for mankind.
“Est luna plena”,
in latin
you are as lovely!
Full moon howling.
While Werewolves of London bay,
Warren Zevon sings.
Shine on harvest moon.
it is soon
that winter arrives.
The moon comes,
rising over the tree silhouettes.
The stars relent.
Goodnight Moon and stars.
My eyes close
yet your fullness glows.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 2 November Chapbook
LASSOING THE MOON
(George Bailey’s Intent)
“Buffalo Gal won’t you come out tonight?”
I’m giving you the skies.
The multitude of stars above
reflect your soulful eyes.
The sway of treetops mimics you,
the breath of wind repeats,
the sound of crickets still remains
but you sound just as sweet.
The night holds your seduction,
the skies possess your grace,
this evening strings my heart along,
in the moon, I see your face.
Untie my heart for one brief dance
as I sing your favorite tune,
“Buffalo Gal won’t you come out tonight?”
I’m lassoing the moon!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 2 November Chapbook
MOONWALKER TOO
(with a nod to JWLaviguer)
The beat pulses,
Billie Jean refrains,
Fedora pulled to
shield your eyes,
your pelvis goes insane.
You grip your crotch
a time or two,
to make sure it’s still there,
underneath your sheathed hand,
the sequined glove you wear.
You spin, you twirl,
you screech, you whirl,
you fling your hat
(imagine that),
your feet retreat
a backward slide,
a treadmill run amok.
You perfected this maneuver
at least that is the talk,
quite the fluid mover
with that manic, “bad” moonwalk!
RIP, Michael Jackson (Tee, hee, hee, SHAMON! OW!)
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 2 November Chapbook
SHOOTING THE MOON (AND PUMPKINS TOO)
An ode to the permanent vertical smile,
the boys let you out once in a while.
It truly shows their lack of class
every time they show they’re crass!
It’s best to leave you in their britches,
you look like you need a thousand stitches.
They think you’re an expression,
butt showing you will teach one lesson.
A few more beers and they get bolder,
giving you air will make you colder,
and you will turn a shade of blue
(not the most attractive hue).
So smarten up, pull up your pants,
or your Blue Moon won’t stand a chance!
Bom, ba, ba, bom ba, Bom, ba, bom, bom ba
Dinga-dong ding, Blue Moon!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 2 November Chapbook
PLAY AMONG THE STARS
Fly me to the moon
sometime before June.
Jupiter and Mars just can’t compare!
And hopefully, we’ll play up there
and we can be in tune.
That rendezvous would be a boon,
a chance for hearts to meld and swoon,
and live our lives without a care.
Fly me to the moon.
The song that “Blue Eyes” used to croon
about that “crazy, coo-coo” moon,
is right for me and my lady fair
orbiting the earth up there,
and hopefully we’ll take off soon!
Fly me to the moon.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 2 November Chapbook
WEIGHTLESS
You take my air
leaving me breathless, gasping;
stepping cautiously so as not
to disturb your orbit. But the gravity
of you is held in my heart,
it is the ballast that keeps me,
the anchor that grounds me.
Without your love I drift into the darkness
weightless and useless, less the man
who holds your heart. We will start
to levitate if we let each heart go,
so hold on tightly, rightly so!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 2 November Chapbook
SEA OF TRANQUILITY
Over the dunes it ebbs
and flows silently into the void.
Space is a final frontier,
a grand destination
in which to vacation,
like lemmings we go to the sea.
From the earth to the moon
for our tranquility! I miss the point,
shouldn’t a sea oughta have water?
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 2 November Chapbook
I WATCH THE MOON
I watch the moon
and I am phased by its brilliance.
It starts its lunar dance
keeping time with the music of night.
Its face is bright, a right glowing
globe hung on a sky-hook,
looking down on me as I watch.
The moon is full, sated
by the darkness that feeds it.
Shadows play upon the surface
of great light; a beauty of a sight to see.
And me? I watch the moon.
My imagination exploring what I
had been ignoring for years.
A soothing light on starlit nights,
burning bright since my first sight.
It hasn’t changed in all this time.
I can see it in my mind, long after
daylight rises. There are no surprises.
I watch the moon.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 2 November Chapbook
SOME OR ALL FEARS
Life is a crap shoot.
“You rolls your dice,
you takes your chances.”
Not everything will appease you.
If it scares you, it will not please you.
Gory scenes are meant to haunt you.
Skin tight jeans are meant to flaunt you.
Sexy dreams are meant to taunt you,
but they can’t really hurt you.
So seven-come-eleven, aim for heaven,
but don’t be afraid to raise a little hell!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 3 November Chapbook
AROUND EVERY CORNER
The unknown is feared.
And we step on eggshells wondering
when the first of many shoes will drop.
You stop to catch a breath or two,
and you continue on your way –
curious or furious that your fear
consumes. Our collective dooms
are assured. But we pray for a cure.
My mission is my focus, for
no “Hocus-Pocus” can change the hand
that I’ll eventually lose. I can choose to
curl up, be fetal and remain fatal –
or I can decide to not hide and face life
and the fight it offers, filling my coffers
with a richness never expected.
All fears are rejected in its stead.
So I keep this thought in my head
and hope my hands can translate
what has been the debate within.
Mission after commission after remission,
keeps giving me the chance to dance unfettered
and expressive, an excessive splay
of verbal vitality, and a mentality to fear no evil.
Dark valleys be damned. He has my back.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 3 November Chapbook
YOU DON’T SCARE ME…MUCH!
The Grim Reaper is in the rear view
as this year speeds toward another end.
And if Nostradamus’ words are true,
disaster awaits around the bend.
I don’t obsess over Madame Fates’ touch,
I laugh awkwardly and say “You don’t scare me… much!”
And when I hear, “You don’t scare me… much”
I think I’m missing the whole view.
My knees knock – my hands quake and a touch
of sweat comes weeping through. It never ends,
my machismo melts and I feel like I have the “bends”.
Decompression will not do, suck it up and burst on through.
I won’t say nothing fazes me; I can get spooked it’s true,
there’s not a lot that scares me… much,
but I have noticed certain trends.
A penthouse with a vertigo view?
A swarm of birds that never ends?
A cadaver with an ice cold touch
all have their ways to stir my nerves (especially the ice cold touch).
I suppose we all have our foibles, so true
and my nervousness might meet its end.
But that’s not the thing that scares me… much,
when I face my fears and bring them into view,
their hold o’er me will break, not bend.
So I’ll be hell bent
…on deflecting Freddie Kreuger’s touch,
… veer my eye from a treacherous view,
Macabre tales that are not true
certainly don’t scare me… much,
but I’ll hold my breath right to the end.
So listen, heed my story friend,
and send your worries ‘round the bend.
Do not let things to scare you… much,
Handle life with a caring touch.
Trust in your reality; it’s true.
And keep those terrors out of view.
For in the final view, at the very end,
if you bend this statement to make it true
you’ll never fear the reaper’s touch… much!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 3 November Chapbook
JUST BENEATH THE SURFACE
Calm demeanor,
smooth as glass,
cool as a cucumber,
solid as a rock…
But just beneath the surface
everything is churning.
There’s a fire burning
and you’re yearning to
explode and let your words be heard.
So you let things slide,
and take pride that it hasn’t
gotten to you yet. Just beneath
the surface, never let them see you sweat!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 4 November Chapbook
JUST BENEATH THE RADAR
She talks of her mate, a Good and decent man,
the love of a life well lived.
She talks of her Lord, a Good and caring God
who brings love to her life well lived.
She speaks of her Zosia; her baby’s baby
her pride and joy and treasure.
She speaks of her “partner” like he’s her
guide and teacher, but who learns as much from her.
She tells of her Buckeyes (and the proud state with the O’s)
her home and favored land.
But she flies under the radar, a stealth heart
that loves and supports and speaks from that heart.
A Good and loyal friend.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 4 November Chapbook
JUST BENEATH MY STERNUM
It drives my life.
It fuels my muse.
All its requests
I won’t refuse.
Compassion lives
in its confines.
and loves takes root;
a spreading vine.
Here in my chest
a heart beats true,
this engine of life
that’s here just for you.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 4 November Chapbook
LIKE DUCKS ON THE WATER
Grace and gentility,
their mobility exudes all that.
The plate glass pond reflecting
the beauty of the mallards
at leisure. Your pleasure is
in admiring their calm of
this early autumn day.
Just beneath the surface
the impression transforms.
Flat webbed feet pushing
the underwater wetness
to self propel. All above serene
in splendor; all below chaotic as hell!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 4 November Chapbook
TEXT ME?
Words less expressive in an abbreviated form,
it is not my norm of saying what I mean.
Conversation is a lost art, and if you start
to text me repeatedly, you’ve lost me for sure.
We never have time to speak our mind
anymore. Technology has set that back.
Besides, you never text me back.
You throw out your blurb, but in bad form
you leave me hanging for your reply. Would you mind
pushing the little phone thingy and let it ringy? I mean,
the time it takes you to text me, our station is assured,
my every word is heard even before your thumbs start.
Right from the start
I knew this text crap would send us back
to beating on logs. Smoke signals were less sure
when the wind blew, but you use fewer characters to form
your contention, and I mean,
you’re truly driving me out of my mind!
I know what I want to say, and my mind
has it straight. I say what I mean, but when a text starts
my thumbs give it no inflection. All caps can get mean,
but emphasis is NOT ANGER! The danger is, it comes back
To bite you. They’ll fight you because they’ve formed
misconceived notions, you can be sure.
Amended: Conversation is NOT lost. It is dead!!!! Surely,
with texting, and IM and tweets by twits our minds
shrink; don’t think of the right word because we’ve transformed
them to the minimum. Don’t get me started!
Dumb down a heart-to-heart and we’re back
to not speaking again. My silence does not mean
I’m mad either! It’s just that I’d rather SAY what I mean
and then you’ll be sure
of my intent. Bring the ability to converse back!
You may think it cool to be so “hip”, but my mind
doesn’t get it. That’s why I quit it before your thumbs get started.
I’m not hard-hearted, I’ve just been transformed.
This “new” form to communicate means
I have to start to learn a new “language” that’s for sure!
Would you mind giving me a call back so I can hear you LOL?
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 5 November Chapbook
HELLO?
U had me there.
Long time without u.
An eternity now.
Miss U.
❤ you.
Wish U were here.
I'll be less fine.
Fine, but less
w/o U.
Do U hear me?
Hello?
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 5 November Chapbook
‘SUP
Where RU?
Got stuf, need $.
My Bro a nogo.
Bzy 2nite but AM btr.
Mtg her 4 sipn n dipn
CU L8R GTG
Dont txt much
dont u no?
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 5 November Chapbook
FML
Save the self-pity for someone with a shittier life that you.
So your mother made you clean your room.
Dad said you can’t use the car until you learn
that dreaded “R” word. You heard “Jammer” got
the new iPhone, iPad, iWished ihad that latest gadget too,
and your entry level job actually expects you
to work for that paltry paycheck. Yeah kid, you have it bad.
FYL and FU2. Wait until you “grow up”!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 5 November Chapbook
ROFLMFAO
Doesn’t anyone speak English anymore?
I’m sure it’s an important note,
but all I’m getting is “Lucky Strike Means Fine Tobacco”
Sorry. I don’t smoke. C U.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 5 November Chapbook
RIGHT DOWN TO THE WIRE
This is it,
today’s the day.
All the noise should end today.
The race near finished
the line in sight,
and the choice is clear tonight.
Right at this moment
I’m picking a winner,
beef, not chicken tonight for dinner.
Right down to the wire,
I go with my hunch,
now if I knew what I wanted for lunch!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 6 November Chapbook
I HAVE HER RIGHT WHERE SHE WANTS ME
Close and closer still,
nestled and comforted
by a love hard earned.
I’ve learned that the grass
isn’t really greener, but
just variant shades.
And in the end, the friend
that she began as, has
taken every length
to find strength in my malady.
More of a lady as I’ve ever deserved,
the best is reserved for when times
get bad, for better or worse,
sickness and health,
various stages of wealth;
there is love right there.
I smile knowing I have her
right here where she wants me.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 6 November Chapbook
LEFTOVERS TONIGHT
A refrigerator full of meals
days in the eating and making,
taking a little of Monday’s
meat and Tuesday’s pasta,
lotsa vegetables in green,
I make a mean mash-up
of stuff we haven’t finished yet.
My bet is that my daughter
will roll her eyes and mutter
like she did the other time
I had served this. Hit or miss.
If you’re hungry enough,
you’ll eat it. Never defeated.
Leftovers will be served.
Don’t look on it as doom.
Soon comes Thursday,
Tacos loom! Yum!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 6 November Chapbook
THE LATERALIZATION OF BRAIN FUNCTION
Right brain vs. left brain.
The division is well defined,
in the opposing functions of our mind.
The right brained seem expressive; creative,
displays emotion, a music devotion,
color and images come to the fore,
and intuitive like nothing before.
This is the left brain, in the final analysis,
logic and language are this sides’ emphasis,
Numbers come easy (eh, go figure).
Reasoning makes sense whence
done with the left side. But I beg
to differ (I’ll state it with pride)
that poets seem to join the two,
they think with one mind
and when they’re through
they’ve created a part from
their head and heart that
is expressive and full of emotion,
sings like music, and paints
an intuitive picture with their words
as their medium. The tedium comes
when revision occurs analytically
speaking they tweak their words
so that language is logical
and indeed quite “poetical”
Almost mathematical (and
mostly so reasonable).
Right vs. left, here’s the disclaimer,
why make a choice; it’s a no-brainer.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 6 November Chapbook
GET RIGHT BACK TO WHERE WE STARTED FROM
The band has re-assembled, and it’s the right
time, and the write time to perpetrate poetry.
Here, where the spirit first moved some of us to that end,
the dissection of words and rhyme have filled our time
and when we’re finished, what’s left
will be emotive, evocative, expressive and fine.
Here, where the line in the sand is as fine
as the poets who amass here, and it is right
that we come back together despite our quirks, left-
over muses used to touch hearts and soothe souls. Poetry
becomes the magnet that draws our mettle, and this time
as always, we pen without end.
Twisted rhymes and mangled meter that we bend
to placate our peculiarities of poetic license; the levied fine
is never excessive as long as we stay expressive each time.
For we write, whether wrong or right
and fight for the cause of poetry
making sure that no thought is left
behind. It is the mantle that has been left
to us; the banner that has been given to us. The end
justifies the course we take in the production of our poetry.
No matter the form, or meter, or rhyme, we are fine
with our choices, we are voices to be heard; a chorus right
for our ears. We will have our say over time.
Many of the poet wanderers come back in time.
However, we will miss the friends that have left
for reasons we respect and understand; it was their right.
They are no less talented or poetic friends,
for their worded wonder remains true and good and fine.
They are minstrels all, with the lyrical rhymes of their poetry.
Here, back where we started to hone these skills poetic,
writing until it is our time
to pass that grail to hands less frail and refined.
Our words will linger long after we’ve left
this poetic plane, remembered until the end
because what we’ve written will be held up as a beacon bright.
It is right that we return again to write poetry,
verse that will stand until the end of time.
Left for the eyes of future generations; our work will be fine.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 6 November Chapbook
WHEN I COME AROUND
Good days come.
Bad days linger
and I lose control
of most of my fingers.
Some days find me
incoherent, not so
apparent when it’s done,
not recognizing my voice
and none of the words
Translate great on the slate
of a blank page.
Can’t blame age,
I’m not that old,
but I’ve been told
I carry myself thus.
When the tremors can be seen
it is a mean trick to play
on a poet poeming
a poem-a-day. But today
seems a good day.
I seem to be coming around,
and when I do, I won’t slow down!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 7 November Chapbook
BACK TO THE BEGINNING
It’s a start.
A jumping off point
for all you have conceived.
If you believed you had the power
you could shower the world
with your point of view.
It’s up to you to see
what you could do.
It’s a start.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 7 November Chapbook
DYLAN, YOU’LL WAKE THE NEIGHBORS
It had been a good day which has eased into an equally decent night.
The skies have taken their pall and is covering all;
a cloak to cover you until the morning arrives.
But, you insist on this clamor with the pounding and yelling,
there is no telling what the neighbors will think,
such a rage. You’re tired, we’re all tired but this din
must be stifled. You’re being a trifle dramatic aren’t you?
Shut the bloody hell up, you’ll wake the children.
Go gently, it’s been a good night. Don’t spoil it now!
**”Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night” ~Dylan Thomas
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 8 November Chapbook
YOU CAN’T WALK THERE!
It hasn’t started yet and you can bet
the soft, white grass has lost its hue.
the sun is right, red and bright
and the birds bask in the balmy breeze.
Things may not stay just so,
Asphalt flowers surely grow
And Shel my friend, you’re walking
Too damn slow for my taste.
We’re wasting time; this measured pace
Has gotten me all in your face.
We’ll have to cross the road ahead
And walk that path a while instead.
Over where the dark road had bended,
on this stroll which we’ve befriended,
the road crew has the street all mended
but we can’t walk there, the sidewalk ended!
**”Where the Sidewalk Ends” ~Shel Silverstein
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 8 November Chapbook
YOU DRUNK, FOOL!
You gonna catch your death of cold!
How many times have you been told,
you gonna sink if you think by the river.
Ain’t nobody gonna hear you holler,
I don’t care how many times you yell!
That water cold! Are you high?
You have a lot of living to do,
ain’t you thinking about your baby?
I don’t care how fine that wine!
I’m gonna cry if I see you die,
so get outta that river or your ass is mine,
and your life won’t be so fine!
You drunk, fool!
**Life is Fine ~ Langston Hughes
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 8 November Chapbook
A LITTLE BEHIND
edward, your works inspire,
but they move too slow for me
to keep them in tow.
why must they tarry?
i will carry them if you’d let me,
but that’ll get me in trouble
if i double up too many poems.
they have to be in front of me
so i can see that they stay
out of the fray. they offer
persistence in their resistance.
i carry your poems.
i carry them in my heart.
**”if you like my poems let them”~ e. e. cummings
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 8 November Chapbook
Like this one, Walt.
THE MONOLOGUE OF A SELFLESS SOUL
“Set all your mind upon the steep ascent,
Upon the broken” ~William Butler Yates “The Dialogue of Self and Soul”
We stand above the abyss and sealed with a kiss
we take our love for others to another
level. No angel is right, or devil wrong
that in our conscience strong prevails; one
with our hearts and thoughts and the real
sense to listen to the voice inside.
There is no one at your side
to assist you. It’s as if they kissed
you off, another wretched soul with a real
desire to ignite a fire under his brother.
You stand alone, the silent one
with much to say, but you’re wrong
if you think they’ll hear you. Wrong
to feel that all you hold inside
of you is the one
thing you cannot articulate. Your heart has been kissed
by the words of poetic sisters and brothers
who stand clear of the cliff, poised to reel
you in if the decision to leap is made. A real
tragedy when what is right, proves to be the wrong
choice. Lost within your voice is the chorus of others
who lift your selfless soul and resides
within the depths of your caring. A heart kissed
by the tender refrain of these poetic ones.
Offer your solution so that every one
knows your intent. Do not lament or feel
the need rebel. You know darn well that you’ve been kissed
by fate’s tender lips. There is nothing wrong
with standing your ground. Reach inside
and give from all you have for the sake of others.
Hold this truth above all others.
You begin the process; you are the one
who will share the life you keep inside
of your loving heart. You can feel
things changing, and know that right or wrong,
the abyss cannot consume what love has kissed.
The kiss of true love is given to another,
it is not wrong to offer your heart to one in need.
The real deed dwells inside the truth you offer.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 8 November Chapbook
AS PERSON SUCH AS THIS
You are a good-man;
not a god-man
possibly a man of God,
but good as much as good
is not bad.
You are a kind person.
The kind of person
that is kind to all mankind,
with a mind for forgiveness,
and forged in the fires of truth.
You are a blessed person.
The receiver of many great gifts
given by Him who has made you
the kind of man, the kind of person
He always expected of you.
You are a loving person
who by the nature of your love
is loved in return. A yearning to be
what hearts and souls aspire to be.
Bonded in the love of love.
You are a giving person,
a generous man who offers
his time and mind, his logic,
his cents (in lieu of dollars)
and ask for nothing in return.
And as such, you are a respected man.
A man who has earned his bread,
the manna of self worth offered
to a good man, a kind man,
a blessed and loving person,
a respected person in all eyes
until the day he dies.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 8 November Chapbook
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JOHN
When he’s gone…
The reality of his leaving
will hit some hard; others
will not be fazed. It’s crazy
to think that he’s been
on the brink of death’s door
for four years or more.
Stomach cancer was not
the answer. Not to mention
dementia. Parkinson’s Disease
is putting the squeeze of his once
statuesque appearance.
His disappearance has been long
awaited. Fate can be a cruel
executioner. When he’s gone
some will mourn, some will scorn
his selfishness for leaving.
The cash cow is dead.
Long live the king!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 9 November Chapbook
WHEN SHE LEAVES
When she leaves, she always checks to be sure
that I’m OK. She’d say she was thinking about
the time we drove for an hour scouring the countryside
for a place to hide for an hour or so, and we would go
on for half the day, walking, talking, taking the time
to find comfort in each other like no other time before.
There was this place way south of the city. It was
a pretty serene scene. A spot beneath a crossing bridge,
a dry stream bed with a trickle of its former self.
A shelf of rocks and dried logs and bogs of reeds
poking skyward, She would sit on a trunk of fallen
majesty, and me? I would snap photos of her contemplation
in my elation; a celebration of life. Before she was my wife.
she had become the love of many lives. I can see it clearly
and dearly miss that place. It puts a smile on my face.
When she leaves, I believe she smiles as well. I can tell
how much she has grown. I know she will return,
When she leaves.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 9 November Chapbook
WHEN HE’S GONE
When he’s gone for five minutes, the children
are still nestled snugly, visions of sugarplums dance
and you’re still battling sleep. You keep warm and the year’s
work is nearly completed; energy depleted and you rest,
for morning comes quickly. Soon the bustle will be heard
and the first words will resound,. “SANTA WAS HERE!”
When he’s gone for eight hours, there is plenty of cheer,
you ply yourselves with steaming coffee, and the children
are excited. You’d be delighted if the screams that are heard
were less piercing, and she’d get a chance to dance
back to bed and complete her rest,
but the best you can wish for is a sleep-in on New Year’s.
When he’s gone for five years
The cheer is still the same, but it is here
where you notice the change. It’s strange that the rest
of the time you go unnoticed, but the children
are staring you down and your eyes dart and dance
from side to side, hoping to hide their sparkle behind a beard
so cheesy it is easy to spot you. When he’s gone, nothing is heard
except for the strains of Bing singing , (has it been another year
already?) Your steps are less steady when you dance
her under the mistletoe to steal a kiss or two. It is here
that you linger, a finger alongside of your nose. The children
recognize this pose and can figure out the rest.
When he’s gone for twenty years, you’ve become the guy for the rest
of your life. Your wife can be heard
snoring on the couch, and the children
are feigning sleep, and you swear this year
will be your last donning the suit. It’s a beauty, but here
is when you realize you like its fit when you dance
around the tree. You hear Jingle Bells in the distance
and a hearty Ho-Ho-Ho above, and you know the rest
of the story. You’ve impersonated him here
for all these years and your suit and beard
are a bit tattered from wear. He’s leaving you something this year;
for you and your children, and your children’s children.
It will make your children dance with delight.
Tonight he gives you the suit, for this year and the rest of your days.
And he is heard to proclaim here tonight, “You are Santa Claus”. Get it right!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 9 November Chapbook
WHEN HE’S GONE TOO
The house is empty
where once we thrived.
And when he was alive
the house held love.
The decline was gradual,
but it seemed to happen
in the blink of an eye.
I try to imagine that place
without our faces in it,
but the task is daunting,
he is haunting my nights.
So many reminders find
there way into my soul
and I start to relive that
life so distant, yet so close
to my heart. But he had
departed, the last bastion
of our home left standing.
Our anchor and beacon,
a man to be admired.
When he was gone we all
suffered from his absence.
He is truly missed.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 9 November Chapbook
CLEAN YOUR ROOM
Rebellious daughter
too much of a slob for her own good.
Would you clean this sty, Swinia?
You’re giving Polish pigs a bad name!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 10 November Chapbook
Wow! Is that the word in Polish? It’s the same in Bulgarian 🙂 I wouldn’t dare use it. We are rarely intimidated by foreign words, though. They seem to fit easily in our mouths.
BELLA LUNA
Oh, what a night!
The stars slip into the background
you have found a new vision to view.
The glow of this brilliant evening sky
draws you as if pulling upon the tides,
an ebb and flow of emotions thrills.
It stands still, painted on the black velvet night,
this beautiful moon obsessed.
Oh, what a night, Bella Luna!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 10 November Chapbook
SCHLEMIEL AND SCHLIMAZEL
Brothers of misfortune,
neither quite composed,
one a dolt for clumsy sake,
the other indisposed.
Schlemiel can’t seem to
chew gum and walk there:
he falls on Schlimazel,
get’s gum in his hair!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 10 November Chapbook
OVER THERE
I watch victory’s sun arise
over Normandy skies,
here where I and many other
sons lay, markers on display.
Faceless names are we
in a sea of marble and granite
reaching to touch the face
of God and the hearts of
a nation not understanding
the price we’ve paid day
after day. A return to sleep
keeping memories alive
in the shadow of victory’s sun.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 11 November Chapbook
SHIP TO SHORE
Navy Blues adorned a young man,
his hands rough and calloused,
but no malice in his heart.
At the start of his adulthood,
with nothing but a good love
of God and country. A sailor
navigating life’s rough water,
stem to stern, yearning to give
all he can so others may live,
strong in freedom and peace.
It was the least he could do!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 11 November Chapbook
INCENDIARY
Fire storm to pock a peaceful morning,
early dawning and we’re hunkered down.
The sounds interrupting communication,
hand signals informing, telling of formations
and warnings. Enemy fire over the ridge,
brothers in arms falling, calling in fear
and pain, and the rain begins. All hope
hinges on your will and His. This is not
hell. This is war. Hell comes later.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 11 November Chapbook
HEAT OF BATTLE
The heat sears into my chest,
piercing me like a lance driven
by the force of ferocity. I yell,
telling anyone who can hear
that I am here. Arms splayed
from my sides, looking skyward
as air support flies over, strafing.
My breath is labored, gasps of life
escaping. Crimson wetness
spreading, draining and staining
the ground below me. Sounds
of machine gun and mortar,
muted and fading, darkness
invading my sight, staring at no one
there. I pray for a quick solution.
I gurgle to God to end my pain,
but my brain will not allow my heart
to die for sometime. Light flashes,
synapses of life gone by. Silence
engulfs me. Looking down upon
myself as I lay unattended.
All my pain is gone. Mercy
is given to me. I die.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 11 November Chapbook
GOLD STAR MOTHERS
Tears of love and pride
flowing, for their glowing example
and sacrifice, never thinking twice
to give their lives so the babies of other
mothers can live free. Honor and glory
are their story. For all they have given
we are grateful. Mothers rest your hearts.
They have gone home!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 11 November Chapbook
OF HONOR AND REMEMBRANCE
They leave an impression,
teaching the lessons of life
through the dedication to a nation,
the love of family, God and country.
The have earned all that they have
thrust upon them in honor
and remembrance they are heroic,
a stoic wall in defense for all.
Thank you for your service!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 11 November Chapbook
i4-NI
Apple® presents
it’s latest release,
and revenge have never
been so sweet or so easy.
It’s a sleazy little tab
that takes a stab at
your enemies and
your friends alike.
Remember our motto:
“Keep it between just us,
one man’s revenge is
another man’s justice.
Now, there’s an app for that!
It’s an i4-NI. Coming in 2013,
aTooth4aTooth!
Steve is gone, but you’re
still getting “Jobbed”!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 12 November Chapbook
MAKING URINE POTABLE?
Even good taste can fall by the wayside,
when expressed in bad taste. To even hint
at bodily waste as consumable is to
presume all hope is lost. There is no cost
I will pay to sip at all that which is meant
for the urinal! AND DON’T GIVE
ME THE SCOOP ON POOP!
I will not go there, even when my grin
suggests otherwise!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 12 November Chapbook
PEDI-IMPEDER
At last a device,
a means of prevention,
not to mention a method
to not savor the flavor
of shoe leather. Whether
intended or no, you should go
and buy yourself one,
just a slip between
cheek and gum, it’s the
“Pedi-Impeder – meant to keep out
your foot from your mouth”.
*(Available in fluorescent green and “In my grill” chrome. Don’t leave home without it!)
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 12 November Chapbook
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN
After numerous attempts to contact you
I have found it necessary to say to you,
your failure to return my correspondence
is down right rude; it’s nonsense.
So I will withdraw my offer since I must,
and if I had any last word, it would be just
that I love you and wished thinks could’ve worked
you jerk! With all my heart, Walt.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 13 November Chapbook
This is hilarious, Walt. I am always so amused 🙂
JOHN DEERE LETTER
Dear John,
I hope this letter finds you well.
You said war was hell, and I can tell
it is wearing on you. And it’s true
it’s been a few weeks since I wrote you,
it WAS something you said. I would quote you,
but then I’d be guilty of your same crime.
There is someone else this time.
He’s younger and more handsome,
has more stamina and agility
and a unique ability to finish the job
in half the time as you.
He has a 21 inch span,
and the man knows how to use it.
I do not abuse it, but I choose it
sometimes three times a week.
Oh, how that boy can mow!
That is why I’m selling your green
and yellow tractor. Please don’t be mad,
but it’s for the best. Glad I got
that off my chest. Signed, Louise.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 13 November Chapbook
A POEM
This is a poem about “A”
The beginning: the start.
The very heart of the Alphabet
About as authentic as “a” can get.
Always aware, alert and adroit,
answers to no one, always polite.
Apologetic, apoplectic, agreeable,
amiable and acceptable.
Anonymous, and amorous
an additional plus. This poem
has been brought to you
by the letter “A”.
A letter poem.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 13 November Chapbook
BETWEEN HERE AND NEVERLAND
Where have you gone young man?
Stuck in a place that binds you here?
Broader horizons beckon and sleep
does not appease your tired and weary soul.
You have no control over your destiny,
the best you can do is stay true and fly.
Release then from your earthly bonds. Fly
through the night to the second star on the right. You are the Pan!
Your heart is young though your weariness seems destined
to keep you sequestered. You feel pestered here,
perturbed by the restlessness of your captive soul.
Fly on, or settle into that eternal sleep.
For there is nothing to hold you to your sleep.
Your eyes move rapidly, and you try to fly
but fall, there is no soaring for your soul.
You are sedentary; a solitary man
who writes the words he wishes he could hear,
to offer support and the confidence to fulfill his destiny.
Solid ground has its advantage, and destiny
is only yours if you embrace it, but face it – your ambition sleeps,
keeping you from letting your fantastic mind escape here.
Stand tall and crow, let the people know your visions fly –
the eternal lost boy; Peter Pan in the trappings of man.
It is that happy thought that releases your soul.
And nothing rests in the soul
for that which the heart has passion. They are paired, destined
to conjoin in the worlds you will have created. Fated as no mere man
before, for it is your voice that speaks. While their muse seeks sleep,
yours words are inspired, not tired. Arms spread, spirit light, you fly
taking that spirit many adventures away from here.
And so we pen, words and thoughts that are clear
when expressed “from the chest”. The best the soul
can offer, filling your coffers with a wealth of love safely
tucked away to shadow your days. But it is your destiny
all the same, straight on ‘til morning – no time to sleep,
Peter Pan lives within the very spirit of this man.
Man was placed here to give of his being,
freeing his sleeping and generous soul.
It is your destiny to fly, you know! And don’t forget to crow!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 14 November Chapbook
MIRED IN MUSE
I write
therefore I am full
of thoughts and ideas
I ought to release to the masses.
But, my ass is mired;
a muddled mess.
I guess that if this were easy,
I’d have a breezy time
writing rhyme. Inspiration
puts the perspiration in my pen.
But then again, it is
better than the alternative.
I could be spent with not a pot
to poem in. And so
I begin again, putting pen to pad
and add another verse.
It could be worse to not be mired
long after the muse has fired.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 14 November Chapbook
GIVE YOUR HEART – TAKE NO QUARTER
A simple give and take on the surface seems just so.
But underneath the layers, we have a way to go.
Sometimes you give me a hard bit,
when I’m not in the mood to take any shit!
I give you what your heart deserves
and then take your heart, a bit unnerved.
You give me time to do “my thing”,
you take all I have, except this ring.
I give you a headache when my mouth’s in gear,
and you take all you can, but are always right here.
You give me so much, I take you for granted,
You take what I mean and give me a slant that
even I don’t see. I give you my love and your give yours too,
that’s just what it takes to make one out of two!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 15 November Chapbook
WHO NEEDS SLEEP?
There was a day when I’d sing,
“I agree, the play’s the thing”
and pen scripts that dripped
with humor, and tender moments,
vitriol and pathos. But writing
to such lengths sapped the strength
out of my muse and the ensuing
abuse of my body and mind.
I had to find the time where I’m
solely and silently alone,
not prone to distractions or
familial interactions or phones
that go chirp in the night.
Burning the midnight oils
well after three and seeing
double and triple when I’d trickle
off to bed for an hour or two.
A sacrifice of time meant for
a wife and daughters who ought
to have as much of me as they
could stand without the demands
to write all night. A modicum of success
made a mess of my life, pushing my wife
to the brink and fighting the battle of words
at unheard hours. The accolades showered
were nice, but did not suffice my expressive
heart. That’s when I started to write poetry.
Metered rhyme served my time better,
and it let her get her fill of my presence;
the essence of my verse was all hers.
Until my mind wandered with more
time squandered again. Too many trade-
offs made without fair compensation.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 15 November Chapbook
NEW BEGINNINGS
A great place to start,
a week before Thanksgiving
and living what’s left of the American Dream.
Every day is a new adventure,
an extension of your hopes for a better life,
with less strife and a pocketful of goodwill.
And when that excursion ends
you take stock of the friends who have stood by you
to buy you more hope that with which your began.
It invigorates your heart
to think that better things await you; it elates you.
A great place to start!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 16 November Chapbook
FROM TWO
That’s just what it takes to make one out of two!
First, it takes two unique individuals willing
to spend their lives filling each others’ hearts
with everything they’ve hoped for and desired.
It is the fire of love that consumes them,
it presumes that life couldn’t get any better.
But, you better not get complacent, because
adjacent to the good things, the bad resides.
It hides in the shadows smirking; lurking,
ready to pounce and make any smooth sailing
wrought with prevailing winds and thirty foot waves.
It is that true love that saves you from drowning.
Commitment and dedication have no separation
ad that should translate into a great rapport;
one of trust and communication that keeps
those feelings growing, sowing that kernel of life
between husband material and his future wife.
For as that seed grows, it knows enough to grow strong,
for the long haul head, instead of offering many weaker tendrils
of patchy and sporadic emotions. It is in sealing the deal
that the fruit of all labors gives a true indication of what lies ahead.
One trunk rooted and grounded instead of two seeds divided.
One love rooted and grounded from two hearts in synchronicity.
It is this simplicity that gives love its complexity.
Two hearts beating without retreating,
completing the circle of life.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 16 November Chapbook
TIT FOR TAT
Too many tradeoffs made without fair compensation,
are never worth it! It’s tough to say what value can be placed
on situations not embraced. Lead with your heart and you impart
a sense of sentimentality when the reality rests in your mind.
Use your head and your heart will follow eventually.
Never give up more than your mind can handle.
Never give less than your heart will allow.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 16 November Chapbook
AGAIN YOUR MUSE HAS INFECTED MY HEART
In the passage of time, life finds the breath to survive
the loss and ache of the pained heart.
Where you start depends on how quickly
the wound of death mends and brings peace
to one so loved and never forgotten. It is not
that your vision has burned itself through the eyes
of this poet’s heart, nor the lack of memory
that you have crossed the bar,
it is that your unbridled spirit fills the skies.
Let them bury your big eyes
the color of chocolate compassion,
and let silence seal lips so long denied.
Do not allow the coldness of your touch extinguish
The eternal flame that love had ignited,
Unconditionally and requited; love lives
In the depth of a buried heart purely.
Although we have been long since started,
Conjoined hearts retain their synchronicity
And it is in this complexity you are sequestered surely
in the secret earth securely.
You will live always, in the words my muse chooses,
Thoughts will bring to bear the heavy burden
Of your passing. You are the lasting impression
That seeds my intercession; an obstacle to overcome.
Each hurdle brings me to an understanding that
Love is less demanding over time, and it is there
That the pain is eased. It pleases my sensibilities
That I can keep you close, yet mostly hidden
In a loving mind and heart; an accepted dare.
Your thin fingers, and your fair,
Complexion had captured me,
They had been your attraction
That precipitated the action that lead
to our coming together. And now that life has given me
the reprieve of reconciliation, my celebration becomes
the mantle you have taught me to share.
And all tender moments hence commence
In the part of your soul that remains in my heart
In the mists of memory I will recognize you there,
your soft, indefinite-colored hair–
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 18 November Chapbook
ECCLESIASTES WAS WRONG
Life is too short
to dance and cavort,
Time is fleeting
and we’re beating our head
against the walls of reason, coming
to the realization that amidst all of our strife
it is our responsibility to live as we should,
to aid others in works of charity
having clarity to accept challenges with which we are rife.
A man doesn’t have time in his life
to do what he needs to do.
But his ambition is fueled by the need
to succeed; a personal greed for acceptance.
So he strives to fit his flights of fancy
into little adventures meant to satisfy.
“Mission accomplished” has a nice ring,
but the whole gist of his life’s bucket list
is to try and fit all he can into it.
It feels good; makes a heart sing
to have time for everything.
He will never know the time or place
and this rat race is an all out chase
to the finish line, knowing that life was meant
to be a marathon and not a sprint. But all he is allotted
is today. He should live life as if it is his first day; his last day.
The only day to get things right and save
the good fight for battles that matter.
To every turn there is a thing and reason
and to this one thought he is a slave –
he doesn’t have seasons enough. To have
time enough is to hold the grail,
and he will fail if no attempt is even made.
Every drummer marches to his own parade,
and if he can juggle his desires
his life will fire on all cylinders.
It can be all be had for a song,
as long as he carries the right tune.
But, it will be over too soon, so seize life.
He’ll need to take it as it comes along;
a season for every purpose. Ecclesiastes was wrong
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 18 November Chapbook
SPOKE WHEELS AND BASEBALL CARDS
Chatter and flapping,
spinning and grinning at the sound.
The wheels go around,
the faster your pedaled,
the louder you “motor” revved.
It was cool then, but from what I know now,
this fool lost some major jack
on the Mantle card mounted in the rear.
But, your should have heard
how loud Mickey hummed!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 19 November Chapbook
POPPING WHEELIES
Once a Huffy Angel,
banana seat, low-rider,
sissy bar reaching skyward,
my father preaching the dangers
of such a monstrosity,
and me secure in my pomposity
riding on the double-forked “chopper”.
The bald “slick” in the back
was right for traction action.
Getting the front tire off the ground
was the treat. It was truly neat
until the lugs came loose
and raised my voice two octaves!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 19 November Chapbook
RE-INVENTING THE WHEEL
They call me “Renaissance Man”.
I laughed when friends saddled me with that name.
I’m the guy they’ve always known, the same
soft-spoken poet, slightly broken and on the mend.
But there are a few modifications in the works,
for this one who in poetic circles lurks.
Diet and exercise are the thugs that lurk
in the dark alley waiting for me. Baiting me to become the man
who is leaner and living cleaner. I hope it works.
I’d just and soon change my pants size, than my nickname,
since anything with the word “BIG” in it sends
me over the edge. But all the same
it is a necessary adjustment. I’m trading all-beef patties on sesame
seed buns for a more sensible menu. With turkey lurking
I’m working on maintaining life on the back of deep knee bends
and friends encouragement to make me a better man.
And cancer can kiss my ass if it thinks it will keep my name
on its insidious “honor roll” any time soon. A return to work
has my head spinning like a Ferris wheel on speed, I need to work
on getting my strength and stamina in line. I’m fine all the same
but I feel tame, not the ferocious fellow, just mellow. I can name
others more fiery that I, but my desire will not fade, left to lurk
in the back of my mind. So this time, I will become the man
who changes all he can and stay within himself. One of those men
who will battle until all the fight is gone. Still, I’m mending
the parts of me long in need of repair. It is there where I will work
on re-inventing who I am, this supposed “Big Wheel” kind of man,
(no big deal in my mind). I find that I am still the same
clown who insists on penning poetry and will lurk
in writing circles where I can reestablish my name.
What’s in a name?
Despite all these flaws I plan to mend,
I will stand strong against maladies that lurk
in my depleting shadow, and continue to work
on getting well. You can tell I remain the same
guy who’s starting to believe he is a “Renaissance Man”.
Just a man; the same face and name,
on the mend to become the same kind of guy he’s always been,
with all new working parts who will lurk around life a while longer.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 19 November Chapbook
GETTING THE MOST GREASE
Loud and proud,
pounding the poems out
like a smithy with a chip on his anvil.
The sure way to be noticed
is to make the most noise.
It is your choice, it’s up to you
the squeaky wheel always gets his due!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 19 November Chapbook
TOGETHER
All assembled in one place,
and there’ space for every one.
Every color represented,
as if sent to add their flair.
There are white, black, brown.
Yellow, red, pink and argyle.
Argyle? Darn socks!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 20 November Chapbook
I SEND YOU, MY LOVE
I can hold you no longer.
My resolve is stronger and
rest beckons you. Love has kept
us connected long after life
had rejected you. I had protected you
the best I could. It was good
while it lasted but I am moving
past it. My memories will linger.
But I must send you, my love.
Our time has ended.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 20 November Chapbook
COMING AND GOING (Sijo Form)
Family gathers in the embrace and honor of those long passed,
unresolved issues dissolve, burdens carried longer than they should.
Coming together, now everything is good – as it could be.
Children fully grown, home for another lively repast,
fast becoming the next generation toasted in celebration
of lives in remembrance in some semblance of passing.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 20 November Chapbook
ENID
You were a bit stodgy for my taste,
and what a waste that was.
You were a strange bird – a blackbird
cracking and cawing.
Is that all you do is carry on?
But you had redeeming qualities,
you better you bet you did.
Then I met your mother.
Runnin’ back to Saskatoon!
I think I left the iron plugged in.
Who names their kid Enid anyway?
“Enid” – Barenaked Ladies
“Blackbird” – Beatles
“Carry on” – CSN&Y
“You Better You Bet” – Who
“Runnin’ Back to Saskatoon” – The Guess Who
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 21 November Chapbook
COME AND GET IT
We live in interesting times.
Isn’t life strange?
But, here’s the deal.
Baby, I’m for real.
Brandy, you’re a fine girl
and what you do to me
makes me crazy.
Bend me, shape me
but don’t break me.
Come and get your love!.
“Isn’t Life Strange” by The Moody Blues
“Baby, I’m For Real” by The Originals
“Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl) by Looking Glass
“Bend Me, Shape Me” by American Breed
“Come and Get Your Love” by Redbone
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 21 November Chapbook
SHE’S NOT THERE
“Call me”, she said
but I’d be better off dead to the world.
I call her and she’s not there.
She’s NEVER there!
But she had something!
The face, the hair, the flair
for action and the main attraction
were her “Dead Man’s Curves”!
Well worth the excursion to Doraville
Just 17 more miles to go,
so don’t let the sun go down on me.
I think I’m lost and she won’t answer the phone.
I call her, but she’s not there.
“Don’t Let the Sun Go Down” by Elton John
“She’s Not There” by The Zombies
“Call Me” by Al Green
“Doraville” by Atlanta Rhythm Section
“Dead Man’s Curve” by Jan and Dean
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 21 November Chapbook
GOD REST YE MERRY
God rest ye, merry gentlemen
it seems it’s Christmas time again
and He has deemed to let is snow!
There’s still a month before the “show”.
Still, still, still the flakes descend
and on the front porch stands our friend
Santa! Baby, remember when
you would glow from his Ho-Ho-Ho?
God rest ye.
The time draws nigh to start it then,
and set the tree up in the den.
How do I wrap my heart up, Flo,
for Christmas with a month to go?
Please do not shake it, fold it, bend…
God rest ye!
Playlist from my “Christmas” iPod –
“Let It Snow” – Dean Martin,
“God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen” – Chicago,
“Still, Still, Still” – Mannheim Steamroller,
“Santa Baby” – Linda Edder,,
“How Do I Wrap My Heart Up (For Christmas)?” – Randy Travis
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 21 November Chapbook
SINATRA’S SWAN SONG
Call me irresponsible,
but this is my kind of town!
We start as strangers in the night,
but just as we’re taking flight,
you want your dough!
Wouldn’t you know it?
I guess that’s life!
Sleep warm.
Sinatra playlist –
“Sleep Warm”,
“Strangers in the Night”,
“That’s Life”,
“Call Me Irresponsible”,
“My Kind of Town”
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 21 November Chapbook
IN LOVE AND WAR,
The sound of you stays with me.
I see your face here, there and everywhere
and it scares me to think
that I’m on the brink of losing you.
Our battle of words has made me
a wounded soldier of love.
Get back and let’s try to work things out.
My friends say, “She loves you”
but I wonder now if that’s true.
I will not roll over. Beethoven would fight for you.
But then again, he couldn’t hear!
This was a Beatles playlist consisting of:
“Here, There and Everywhere”,
“Soldier of Love”,
“Get Back”,
“Roll Over, Beethoven”
“She Loves You”
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 21 November Chapbook
NEVER SAW IT COMING
I’ll admit, you got to me.
And when you shied away
I got the feeling (oh no,no)
that we were through.
When it comes to love,
I’m a believer.
But, when love goes,
I thank the Lord for the night time.
A solitary man is better off
when he’s kept in the dark.
No one can see his tears.
“You Got to Me”,
“I Got the Feeling (Oh No, No)”,
” I’m A Believer”,
“Thank the Lord For the Night Time”
“Solitary Man”
by Neil Diamond
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 21 November Chapbook
BOXCARS AND SNAKE EYES
From two to twelve
and everything in between.
Each roll will take its toll
and spell your success
(or failure) Galloping
Dominoes in cube form.
Now you’re getting warm,
Poppa needs a new pair of shoes.
Devoted to a loaded pair o’ dice.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 22 November Chapbook
DON’T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT IT
Nested and nurtured,
the place where love
grows and nourishes
in flourishes of hearts.
It starts with two and
grows exponentially.
Potentially live giving.
Glad to be living and
gathered in the hearth
of home. Never leave
without a piece of it
ALWAYS!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 22 November Chapbook
PARADISE RE-FOUND
Thanksgiving morning.
The day is dawning and I feel
this real sense of love.
A new life given for living
and loving all that has
been accomplished
and resurgence of dreams lost.
I feel at home. Awakening
from my familiar bed,
but the thoughts in my head
are of days long past.
The air was different,
breathing the scents
meant to comfort and soothe.
A cheerfulness exuded,
included in the savor
of the flavors to come.
Parades on the tube,
riveted in wonderment
until the Jolly Gent
appears,(an you can hear
pins drop and thoughts
redirect to lists and
wishes for Christmas
a month away). But today,
you are thankful that
Mom and Dad still rule
the roosted brood, in
a grand mood, sneaking
glances and hugs, snug
in the love so ignited.
Right now, seated with
stages of Thanksgiving 2012
in progress, this simple
digress brings peace.
Church and parades,
and no masquerades of
a perfect family. Just
the promise to be better
people and thankful for same.
Paradise lost has been reclaimed.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 22 November Chapbook
HAIKU 1
Cuddled on the couch,
two by candle light this night.
Everything feels right
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 22 November Chapbook
DEEP IN THE WOOD
Thoughts pervade, invading
my memories of youth.
I learned the truth there
where the Wood ruled.
Neighbor kids did the right things,
being churched and schooled
together. Learning respect
and loyalty; treated their
elders like royalty. Caring what
happened to this little piece
of paradise. It was so nice.
This time of year it is here
that draws me; home no more.
But my heart is ensconced,
Deep in the Wood.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 23 November Chapbook
BOTTOMLESS FOUNT OF LOVE
Funny thing about facing your mortality,
the reality sets in that you have no time
for the nonsense in conflict. A thick
and endless love surfaces; everyone
and everything. Standing on the brink
of a deep abyss, you kiss and make up,
taking up your animus and pushing
it into the deep void. You are less annoyed.
You can only go so deep.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 23 November Chapbook
DEEP DISH PIZZA
Dough out of control,
toppings galore and a pure
sense of pizza mastery.
No dastardly thin crusts for us.
Keep it deep,
keep it coming
and I’ll keep succumbing to
pizza deliciousness.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t pull
a slice from the dish.
Forever my deep-baked wish!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 23 November Chapbook
CAN YOU TOP THIS?
Combative braggarts on Bridge O’Keefe,
had stopped to pause for quick relief.
Said one “That water is quite cold, ’tis true!”.
The second smirked, “Yes, and it’s very deep, too!”
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 23 November Chapbook
THE TRUTH ABOUT NAUGHTY OR NICE
I’ve made a list and checked it twice,
some were naughty and some were nice.
Naughty ones could get a reprieve
depends how strongly they believe.
I think one more glance should suffice.
Here in the land of snow and ice,
the tally kept should be precise,
I have no reason to deceive –
I’ve made a list!
The nice ones never pay the price;
and the naughty never think twice.
Excuse me if I sound naive –
I am Santa Claus; I believe!
so listen all to my advice:
“I’ve made a list”!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 24 November Chapbook
THE TRUTH ABOUT CHRISTMAS LIGHTS
Blinking, blinking, blinking,
these stinking bulblets have got me
flipping. I keep ripping them from the string
to find the one that is causing me duress.
I press it back and still no luminance,
if I had the change I’d toss them out
but I will not be defeated. Two more
sets and the task is completed.
But this little fact give me fits,
“If one goes out, the rest stay lit”.
Yet I can attest, without a doubt,
if one goes out, they ALL go out!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 24 November Chapbook
NEW POINT OF VIEW
Thanksgiving Day has passed,
and at last I can look forward,
toward the holiday that is a blessing.
And my curse. The weather
has taken a turn and I yearn
for the soup that steeps in the kettle.
I stir and peek out at the snow falling
calling me to play. Or plow. But, now
our roles have been reversed. I had
rehearsed this part from the start
of my life. But now, my wife
has taken charge while I
recuperate. Bundled and gloved;
a scarf wrapped for warmth.
Her shovel skills need honing,
but she’s owning her situation
and my undying affection.
I owe her so much more.
The view from here is clear.
I’m a lucky man.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 24 November Chapbook
NOW PLAYING
Bookshelf re-purposed.
Rows of video tapes and DVDs.
Up to my knees in sports flicks,
and space movies. Gangster films
and war stories. I’d be in my glory
if could collect enough time
to watch these things!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 26 November Chapbook
POEMS
Don’t we all?
We write them,
amassing a mess of words
left unheard until the spirit moves
and behooves us to assemble them
in some semblance that makes sense.
What recompense does a poet need except
for some willing audience to read what we’ve penned?
To that end, collections of poems is what I have, glad
to share with the world. A chapbook or better to open; hoping for better.
Read all you want, I’ll write more, (Like you had doubts!)
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 26 November Chapbook
A LITTLE BIT HERO, A LITTLE BIT VILLAIN
He stands aloft and aloof,
the one who makes her heart whole
the one who breaks her heart too.
Not the man she thought,
not the man he wanted to be.
His cape is smudged and torn;
over used and tattered worn
and still, she sees no flaw.
Tall buildings will defeat him,
steaming locomotives will out run him.
Speeding bullets will surely kill him.
Just a man in the American Way,
hoping she finds the hero she needs.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 27 November Chapbook
FALLING OFF OF PEDESTALS
Heroes can be defeated.
Villainous agents can ravage
the strong and brave, who can save
the world but have no effect on their own lives.
Looked upon as virtuous and miraculous, the
meticulous scrutiny slips past the eyes so awed
seeing the flawed as more than mere mortal.
At the portal of despair, it is there that the hero
serves his best function – to open the eyes of the weak
and meek to the power they possess; it flows throughout.
Without a doubt, the heroic are stoic in appearance
but the strict adherence to hero law is muddled,
for he stands in a puddle of his own making, shaking
in his red patent leather boots. The only difference between
a hero and a victim is that the “hero” is too stupid
to realize he is afraid. But his decision is made.
Save the world and glue it together, piece by peace.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 27 November Chapbook
LIFE IS ADVERSITY
Everyday we face our demons
no matter how or where they vex us.
But we wake up daily to handle it.
It’s not always easy.
It is life (it’s not supposed to be easy)
Our job is to get through by whatever means.
This labor of life gets harder every day,
There’s no dealing with bad feelings;
you either deal or die.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 28 November Chapbook
BAILEY
A life in limbo
lingering, needing guidance.
Questioning existence
and a world that would be
better without. No doubt,
every other life would be less
because of such distress.
The only way out is to get
let back in for the second
chance life will give. Angel
wings and bell rings and a will
to live. Life is wonderful!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 29 November Chapbook
THE BIRTH OF LOVE
The evening star marked it,
seen from afar it beckoned
visitors and worshipers alike;
a chance to witness Love.
Born is a ramshackle barn
to two so different yet tossed
together for the sake of the world.
Their story, a beacon of truth
in a world sorely in need,
amidst human avarice and greed.
That seed of the heart started
to give us life the moment
Love died to be “reborn” again.
The story of this season,
the reason lies in the birth of Love.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 29 November Chapbook
BORN UNDER A BAD SIGN
I was born in Aquarius, the guy that totes the brew.
The personality traits I have fits it through and through.
My time in ‘stir’ was uneventful, I bore my mother no ills.
She did escape the few odd pains without the need for pills.
The term of laying in gestation was not a day at the beach,
when I assumed a bad position and came out of it breech.
There was nothing I could do, my delivery was abrupt,
I only wish the doctor marked my mother, “This End Up”!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 29 November Chapbook
PASSION REBORN
We bury our dead,
dearly loved and revered;
held to an esteem of a higher power.
And we sit minute after hour
wondering if we will ever find
within ourselves, the courage
and drive… the desire to open
ourselves to the throes of
feelings and emotions that
have found their way into
the covered tomb of despair.
But, the sun does rise again,
the sparrows flit through the
treetops and we awaken from
a sleep less troubled to find
that love never dies; love
is life-giving, your passions
resuscitated. You live to
love another day, reborn.
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 29 November Chapbook
THAT BREATH BETWEEN BIRTH AND DEATH
The tender trap.
Caught in this snare
and aware of all that
is required, for in every
synapse fired and
every heart beaten,
there is no retreating from this
confinement. The refinement
of what this state is giving
finds its proof in the living;
this day-to-day journey
to our singular destination.
Amid elation and despair,
we will find there all that
we need to feed our survival.
It is an age old revival that we
welcome and desire; an internal fire
that smolders from our first breath,
until our last gasp before death.
And in between, we occupy this scene.
We celebrate its every waking,
for in it the is joy and happiness
for the taking. Be in no hurry
to escape from this strife.
Squeeze every last drop from this life!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 29 November Chapbook
LACTOSE INTOLERANCE
I love milk
but milk does not like me.
Just a sip and it tips
my fine balance and
it’s a mad dash to relief.
My belief is a cow conspiracy,
brought on by my love of beef!
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 30 November Chapbook
WHY BUY THE COW?
The sad state of society,
why buy the cow when you
can get the milk for free?
But women’s studies show
that men outlive their usage,
who needs the whole pig when
all you want’s a little sausage?
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 30 November Chapbook
LACTATION NATION
Suckle, suckle, give a chuckle,
shake above the old belt buckle,
mother’s milk is rich and flowing,
and her face is truly glowing.
(Though her brood is largely growing)
Her quintuplets the why she’s dragging,
and her breasts are badly sagging.
So lift her up give a cheer,
show support if finally here!,
Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer – Day 30 November Chapbook