The lessons are endless, you know
and from the wrong perspective,
that may seem tragic
All I mean to say
is that you'll be continuously unfolding
-Brandon White
How it Seems to Happen – Poem – 12/9/23
Tag: musings
Circles – Poem – 12/7/23
Keep the circle around you small
make it tight;
give it armor
Keep the world out
The stranger tells me it's the only way
and he's right
and so very wrong
and I’ve no desire to sway him
one way or the other;
it isn't my place
No, I belong somewhere
closer to the center
anchored in that foreign
but familiar place
where the first domino fell
where this all began with a word
-Brandon White
Shades of The Mother – Poem – 12/6/23
Shades of The Mother - 12/6/23
The day begins
with strange new
shades of the mother
She comes to me
in the form of a large woman
in a tiny car
She’s in the oncoming lane,
nearly hitting me
while making a sharp turn
I see her clearly
All bright red lips and white teeth,
like a clown from hell
Show me the one
who pulls the levers of karma,
I want names
Will you love it all?
This is the question
each time I cross her path
I'll find a way
I'll continue to open myself,
to make room
-Brandon White
An Audience with God – Poem – 12/4/2023
I’m searching for answers
before my eyes adjust
Vibrant questions ricochet
off of every surface
and there’s no cover
in sight
This is how my children say
Good Morning, Dad
and the times that I don’t
meet them with patience
return to steal hours of sleep at night
like poorly timed coffee or Eraserhead
This, I’m still learning,
are the steps to the dance
that is parenting
How could I forget, even for a moment,
that I always wanted
an audience with God
And here,
bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,
an endless stream of love
and sparking creativity,
has come to greet me
and ask for milk
-Brandon White
Daydream – Poem – 11/29/23
I've been staring at a quarter
on the ground, tails up
I've just enough superstition left
to ensure it goes untouched
Some say we daydream
to fill in the gaps
we identify
in our reality
I used to get a star
from my first-grade teacher
at the end of the week
If I kept my daydreaming in check
Now I wonder what all
of this would have been like
if they’d left me
to my work
I need to remember
to go inside today
I don't want to say much more
as I’d prefer not to be followed
-Brandon White
My 36th Birthday
I’m 36 today and beyond grateful.
My 35th year was the beginning of a significant shift in my life physically, mentally, and spiritually. I’m committed to the work of aligning myself with my highest good.
My third book is coming this Spring, and I’m excited to share it with you all. Already I can sense things beginning to bubble up in my mind, what’s likely to be the beginning of book 4, but that’s for another day.
I’m surrounded by so much love, and my wonder remains intact and sparking; no man luckier than I.
Their Eyes Beyond – A Poem 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
The Musings of a Future Yelper – A Poem by Brandon White
I hadn’t thought about this free verse poem in a while. Before the pandemic, one of my favorite places to write was a restaurant booth or in a coffeehouse somewhere- surrounded by lives being lived and the hustle of the day. The electric air thick with poetry.
Please, come back.
The Musings of a Future Yelper:
They’ve never been able to
maintain a restaurant at this location,
and many have tried.
It’s not a bad spot, either.
Downtown, right on the avenue,
the best bars within walking distance.
I’ve sampled every establishment
that attempts to put roots down here.
They’ve all been decent enough.
For whatever reason,
the people won’t come.
Sushi, Burgers, Piano Bar, it makes no difference.
I’ve sampled cuisine
from four different countries
and sat in the same shitty booth each time.
Outside, the rain falls steadily.
It’ll be this way for the next several days, and I’m sad
my daughter might not get her last train ride of the season.
Three men enter the restaurant
and sit directly
in my line of sight.
Above me, a TV plays sports highlights
and when they watch, it feels like
they’re staring.
Maybe they are?
I’ve reached that elusive point in life
where it makes no difference.
The burger and fries
are too salty—
what a shame.
My waitress asks how everything tastes,
and I lie to make her feel better.
She smiles her crooked smile and fixes her peroxide-blonde hair.
I ask for my ticket
and she’s out of sight again.
I begin to review my latest poem.
I’m writing about food a lot lately.
I’ll be yelping before
you know it.
Outside, the rain pours on,
gathering into puddles
and flowing down the drain.
Like all the wasted minutes
in a life.
-Brandon White
Sunrise – A Poem by Brandon White
A short, free verse poem that arrived this morning.
Sunrise:
In a perfect world,
we would regard every
firey morning sky as miraculous,
and every promise made
would be holy
-Brandon White
Brandon White 