Ryan Brodesser Poems

A boat is ever meant to roam

and a wave will always meant to go out to sea
...

as I stare into the dark and dim
I know my chances are at best slim
if I don’t jump, if I don’t get off the trail
my life's goanna hurl off the rail
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A man, wrinkled and old
Was sitting on a corner, begging by the grange
Wrapped in threadbare blanket shivering in the cold
Isn’t that strange?
...

1.In shameful resignation the flower droops

2. Its proud head nodding in the pouring rain
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I don’t know what land our battles that man will man fight on
but the next world war will be fought with sticks and stones
And I know not what our conflicts will dawn
But we will fight, with clubs, and chew on our neighbors bones
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Do you hear those robin sing?

listen to the the rustle in the trees?
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The bells ring a dull tone

the bells ring with a vibrant moan
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The mountain stands tall


along with the king of the mountain with his hall.
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The forge burns hot when stoked up high

Fumes and flames reaching the sky
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sometimes alone, I fall asleep and dream dreams deep and fine
and these dreams I can really define
my hopes and dreams all set apart
broken in body, but not in heart
...