Tag: Poet

Hello Friends,

My apologies for the lack of contact. I’m working to realign myself with the muse and to refocus my heart.

Sometimes there’s too much noise, too many opinions, too much ugly in the world. The mind gets clogged up with it all.

Here is an attempt at confronting my writer’s block head-on to free myself.

A new free verse poem waits below.

Align:

When the grief lessened,
the pen, too, seemed to run dry

As if the mind
has no say in such things

As if it isn't enough
to want to create


While in alignment, 
the poems drip from every surface

When out, things
are what they seem and nothing more

The words struggle through 
thorny thickets, ripping themselves open


trying
to find their way back

to the page


-Brandon White

Hello Friends,

A new free verse offering waits below. Enjoy.

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 validations cruel hand,
dodging kicks, begging 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 endless dark,
I'm still here

I'm still here


-Brandon White

Hello Friends,

Here’s a new free verse piece to greet April. Exciting progress is being made on my new collection, and I can’t wait to share it with you.

Feedback is always appreciated!

 Take Your Seat:

Cloudless blue
A songbird serenade
No aches
Weightless eyes
You now marvel
at what’s considered
commonplace;

at how the world
seems to rejoice
at the sight
of you reclaiming
your rightful 
place in the
grand narrative


-Brandon White

Hello Friends,

A new free verse piece waits below. Continuing on a path of change and reflection and excited to see where it leads.

Enjoy.

Tipping Point:

Kill your dreams
if you want to see this through

The mind brings
false hope when you're vulnerable,

and morning comes
bearing cruel reminders

Why not opt
for the safety of assured oblivion?

Why not you, yourself,
dip your toes into the void?

The night can 
be made to stretch on forever

if one 
is so inclined


-Brandon White

Hello Friends,

I’ve returned with a new free verse piece for your enjoyment. Embracing a new way of operating.

Enjoy.

Step One:

Push aside thoughts
of burning legs
or your lungs expanding 
like they haven't in years

Air reaching places
long forgotten
The coughing fit sudden
and violent

brings static to 
the edges of vision
I turn my focus to the crape myrtle
exploding with color

If you were curious,
I can confirm
that undoings
are far, 

far easier


-Brandon White

Hello Friends,

I’m back with a new free verse offering. I’ve spent the last few days spending time with my family, including a lovely, kid-free evening last night with my wife.

The weather here is beautiful, and I’m thinking a lot about new beginnings. I hope you’re well.

You Love to Reminisce

I can almost see the thoughts
as they pass,

your mind rifling through
nine years of marriage,

searching for the perfect memory
to unpack in conversation

You often wonder how
we make sense?

How is it that an adventurous
social butterfly

comes to love the quiet, brooding
artiste?

I don't often consider why 
the pieces fit;

I'm just grateful
they do

Here, on this warmly 
lit patio,

the cool evening air thick
with promises of rain and Electric Indigo, 

I hold your hand in mine,
sip my whiskey,

and want for
nothing


-Brandon White

Hello Friends,

I’m slowly rediscovering my groove and hope to bring more regular content as the days progress. I am still waiting for my energy to return.

Today, a new free verse piece. Enjoy.

From the Screaming Mouth:

Scenes of intense battle
fill this living room,
these quiet hours

Heroes die 
in slow motion,
never screaming

Exit wounds
bursting like 
confetti poppers

painting the world
in the color
of love

Hello Friends,

I’m happy to report that I’m on the mend after fighting back a pretty nasty illness. I have a bit more energy today, so here I am with a new free verse piece.

I hope things have been better for each of you. I appreciate the continued support and encouragement.

The Odds:

Yes sir, I understand,
but the state STRONGLY
recommends this test
if there’s any concern

The coffee’s hot, 
and this cloudless morning
has enough chill in the air
to keep me happy

My energy level
is nonexistent,
and this lends the world
a dream-like quality

The Bradford Pear 
sways in the yard 
beyond our fence 
like a living van Gogh

The black and yellow
around the eyes
suggests your sinuses
have been inflamed a while now

I cough every third breath
Last night I woke
and my throat felt like
an open wound

When I spat in the sink
the pink saliva
that swirled down the drain
came as no surprise

The fever broke a while ago
I’m drenched in sweat
and searching for poetry
in this fucking mess

Your left ear is bulging 
with infection
Are you sure you've
had no discomfort?

You’re trying to talk
to me, and I'm trying 
to be here,
but I’m failing

My phone screen fills
with statistics
I tick the numbers up by one
to make room for myself

I silently add
life insurance totals to myself
The chance of my demise is minimal,
but I have a way of defying the odds

We’re just calling
to let you know
that the results
were negative

I watch our children
play with kinetic sand
and notice how the sunlight 
seems to dance in their hair

I exhale


-Brandon White

Hello Friends,

A new free verse poem waits below, born from my brain’s inability to shut down at night.

Enjoy.

Graphic Footage:

Blue light
floods the room,
the whistle and snap
of exchanged gunfire

A child sleeps peacefully
less than a foot away
from the hand-held horrors of war
and a mind on fire

From this 
eight-inch screen,
blissful ignorance
comes undone

Tell me,
where were you
when you found a tear
in the world you knew?

Who were you
after peeking through?


-Brandon White

Hello Friends,

Happy Friday to you all! I have for you another free verse piece to help top off the week.

Enjoy.

Bath Time:

Five decapitated mermaids
float by,

their heads settling
at the bottom of the tub

in the shape of a
crescent moon

As I pour water 
through my daughter's hair,

I’m contemplating repetition's
place in our lives

To bathe the child,
to rise in the morning,

to face the challenges
of work, of living

Are these things 
not holy?

What could be more 
righteous

than selflessly giving our time,
these numbered days,

without the expectation of
reciprocity

It is for you, my little birds,
for you, I answer the call 



-Brandon White