Daniel Brick Poems
- After The Poet's Death His poems refuse to mourn his ...
- The Abandoned Poem I wrote a long poem for you this ...
- Walking Through Autumn September Powerlines along my path ...
- A Degree Of Intensity When a thing appears as a degree of ...
- Open Heart Monica spoke in her familiar soft voice, each ...
- Four Taoist Poems I Scattered rocks lie beneath the ...
- The Alone-Child, Age Eight Squeaky wheels, squeaky wheels, ...
I was born in the late 1940s which makes me one of the BABY-BOOMERS. But we could also have been called PEACE-BABIES, because that's why so many of our parents wanted
to start families - a horrendous war had ended in total victory and the Great Depression had been replaced by the New Prosperity. My parents, from lower middle backgrounds, benefited from this prosperity and were truly grateful ... more »
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After The Poet's Death
His poems refuse
to mourn his passing, they
detach themselves from
books, magazines, wall hangings
and float freely
in the fair summer air.
Their refusal to mourn is
steadfast. 'He's just changed
his address, ' one of his
first poems says to the new
lyrics. 'He's done this before,
searching for a better place to live.'
'And we always go with him, '
pipes a small poem, barely
audible, maybe not
completed, hardly a poem
at all. 'We are all of us
pieces of his soul, ' booms
the lordly Epic Poem
of 24 cantos. 'We must