Happy Birthday, Dad.

The reminders sneak up on me now. I don’t dread them the same way, yet they remain razor-sharp upon arrival.

I’m trying to type this through tears, and I’m happy to say I’m okay now. That isn’t to say that I don’t miss you terribly, especially on days like today.

But I feel you now. I couldn’t before, but I do now. At the edges of my mind, forever just out of reach.

In my heart, I know we’ve done this dance before, and we’re likely to do it again. For now, it’s the physical reassurances that I miss the most; your hands, your eyes. Your impossible spirit remains, carved from love and undeniable.

Happy Birthday, Dad. I love and miss you so much.

-Brandon


Best of Ways – A Poem by Brandon White

Best of Ways

I bear witness to your innocence
and for its preservation I do pray
For your safety and my vigilance
It breaks my heart
in the best of ways

The student and the teacher
these are the roles we trade
We are but briefly sinless creatures
It breaks my heart
in the best of ways

At night I hope you dream
of something better than what waits
after childhood colors fade
to grown-up gray
It breaks my heart
in the best of ways


-Brandon White


Photo by Kenzie White



A piece for all the Momma’s and Daddy’s out there; the veterans and the newly initiated. What the rest of the world is searching for, we’ve found.

Love,

Brandon

Their Eyes Beyond – A Poem by Brandon White

Photo by Brandon White
Their Eyes Beyond

I drive myself crazy
imagining ways
to pierce the veil

How the mind might
be used to fold and tear
the fabric of perception

that one might peek through
to the world beyond
the wool

Consider our limitations,
how few colors and frequencies
the mind can endure

Dare we open our arms
to what we can
only hope to comprehend?

To that which is,
has been,
and will be?

Before you, before I,
known before
we knew

Before the first pair of eyes
set skyward,
before a mind wondered;

What waits for us there?
Or, perhaps more
importantly,

who?


-Brandon White

Book 3 – Spring 2023

While watching ink dry on the contract for my third collection of poems, I realized how much life fits into these pages. It feels much longer than it’s been since my last offering.

I’m grateful to my publisher, @tara_caribou, for her continued support, guidance, and honesty. There’s no better feeling than knowing those you collaborate with want what’s best for you and your work.

I’m also grateful to those of you who continue to support my endeavors. Your kind words, encouragement, and inspiration are a gift.

There’s much work to be done, but this feels like a moment worth remembering.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered.
Book 3 – Spring 2023.

-Brandon


Book 3 – Coming Soon!

Hello Friends,

I’ve officially handed in the manuscript for Book 3.

There’s still work to be done, but I’m thrilled to officially be on the road to release and anxious to share the work with you.

Keep an eye on this space. I’ll be switching up my efforts to spread the word and giving sneak peeks and updates as they become available.

Talk soon.

Love,

Brandon


The Last – A Poem by Brandon White

The Last

Become now the unwitting trigger,
the convenient symbol of a trauma
in which you had no part

Become now the beaten dog
at the mercy of validation's cruel hand;
dodging kicks, starving for love

Become now the bitter taste
that floods the mouth
at the mention of a name

Become now the last of your kind,
screaming into the nothingness
You're better when you're burning


-Brandon White

It’s been too long, friends. I hope you enjoy this new piece. More on book #3 coming soon!

-BW

Be – A Poem by Brandon White

Center

There's a deep dissatisfaction
within me

It keeps me hungry, curious;
pulling my introverted self

towards the world
in hopes of capturing

whatever may quell
such a feeling

Delivering me
to songs, to poems

wild, wide-eyed things
not meant for taming

Glimpses of the meeting
of the needle points

The elusive center
from which every moment

came bursting
forth

You and me, these two inches
of infinity between


-Brandon White

First Calls – A Poem by Brandon White

First Calls

I haven’t thought of the first phone calls
since making them three years ago
Aunts and Uncles, sisters, my boss,
my shaky voice delivers the message:

He’s gone. It’s over.

“It” being suffering, false hope
We were left with shards of a life,
looking them over in bewilderment
until the words finally came:

Where do we even begin?


-Brandon White

Happy Birthday to Me


Today is my 35th birthday, which feels like a significant number.

My thirties have been a blur of extreme change: love, loss, gratitude, self-abuse, and expression. I feel I’ve lived a lifetime in the last five years.

As this is the halfway mark to 40, what’s to come of all this change? What’s the lesson? What became of the poetry that seemed to pour from me?

Recently I came to realize that i was out of alignment. My spirit had moved forward while my mind continued to cling to the pain and poor habits I’d established over recent years.

So to meet the muse where she must be met, I’m dedicating my mind and heart to rediscovery in my 35th year. To live, fully, while there’s still light.

My third book will be my best yet. I will champion my work, I will celebrate yours, and I will know myself better than I ever have.

I love you all,

Brandon

Purpose – A Poem by Brandon White

Purpose

Here is something
of the moment
I’ve pulled from
the air for you

From the bone dry
recesses of a mind
begging to burn again
with romantic ideas

that this world
could never live up to
To pull up
and out of my pessimism,

not with a mouthful
of self-help clichés,
but led again by
my own sparking curiosity

Here, little birds,
on the other side
of unimaginable loss
is what remains:

The lifting of the veil,
your once forgotten dreams

staring back


-Brandon White