The Grand Poetry

We wrote grand poetry together
Believing it could last forever
Nonetheless here I am, years later
With poetry on paper
Pages slowly decaying away,
Alone this time I read
This time with my poems in disarray
Or without ink on pages to bleed
No, this time I came back
Not with thoughts so black
But to take a step back into bliss
To find the happiness I miss
Into the past I receded
But with empty words I pleaded
I found that in conclusion
My mind was entangled
I faced disillusion
My sight became differently angled
Each poem, doted upon despair
Not upon happiness or thy looks so fair
Page after page I turned
Into my mind, the poetry burned
Words written by our fingers
Every poetic prose
On the paper still lingers
How every word flows
Now the lit match beside me was raised
Near the work we once praised
From it flame flowed onto words gray
Soon they faded away

(c) Bret Sears – 2007

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CYMBALS

Cymbals
Carefully Crashing
A Collision Of Marvelous Music
Swinging And Sizzling, Multitudes Of Sounds
A Brilliant Beautiful Symbol Of Joy And Jubilation

(c) Bret Sears – 2010

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Morning Fog

In the stomach of thin fog
I see a cool breeze
Moving through the trees
Crisp clouds are overhead
Slowly, moving silently
Soon shadows take their flight
Beneath the warmth of sunlight
I hear birds chirping
In the air flying
Landing in wet grass
Fog clearing fast

(c) Bret Sears – 2007

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Asian Drinking Poems

For every day
I have to drink the sake
Just drink, never think

My mind is fading
Life will still be decaying
I need the sake

Cant stop
Just one more drop
Of that distilled drink
That stains my life
Like paper and ink

(c) Bret Sears – 2008

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Nightingale

Under the moonlight pale
I heard the nightingale
While I wandered by
Beneath the darkened sky
Listening to its lonely song
After the day so long
And I prayed for dawn to appear
When birds would sing songs of cheer
Yet the nightingale continued its tune
For me and the white crescent moon
A symphony for two
But before I knew
The chirping left
Leaving the night air cold and deaf
Despite the night being young
The nightingale decided its song was sung
And I found myself longing
The truth upon me itself dawning
I wished to hear its song a while longer
With this thought I fell asleep
Into chambers dark and deep

(c) Bret Sears – 2010

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Money

They say a dollar
Can feed a child for a week
They say seventeen dollars
Will give water to the poor for a year
I say go
Say go
To a primitive African tribe
Who has never heard of America
Give them a dollar
They might take it
Sure they will
But to them
What’s the value
A dollar’s value?

(c) Bret Sears – 2010

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