me on the great pyramid, 3/76

One Day in September

Click below to hear
9/11 tribute, One Day in September
by Ed Bremson and Jim Owen

After the Hurricane

Here's a new haiku as it evolved. I want to say:  

'after the hurricane / leaves and limbs everywhere / a strong green odor',  

but I don't think that is correct. That is the way I experienced it (in 1996), but I think I should end w/ visual image, not odor,  so I try:  

after the hurricane / strong green odors / with leaves and limbs everywhere,  

but that's still not best, altho good. so::  

after the hurricane / green odor / green debris OR

the strong green odor / of green debris 

-- after the hurricane / the strong green odor / of so many scattered leaves,

but that is18 syll, too many, so: 

-- after the hurricane / the strong green odor / of all those battered leaves  

This has 17 syll, and actually says what I want to say, because this is the impression I was left with, all these leaves, and their smell. I think this is best, altho "all those scattered" may be better than "all those battered," still 17 syll. The final two parts = one image, not two, b/c odors also describe leaves. I took a walk 2day and spent one hour thinking about this, daydreaming, etc. This is the work of a poet, and it is fun. See how you play with the image until you get it the way you want it? And see how more than one version can work, and sometimes after you are finished you still might change it?

Old Man Asks Scarecrow Twenty Questions

How much do you get paid?

Do you have job security?

Do you have a pension plan?

How are your stocks doing?

Do you own gold?

What kind of sun block do you use?

Do they ever give you an umbrella?

Do you mind when crows shit on you?

I take it you don't smoke?

Where were you at 10:15 last Friday night?

Have you lost weight?

Are you on Facebook?

Do you have cable?

How's the wifi out here?

Are you married?

Ever been to Cabo?

What is Dorothy like?

You know you're not in Kansas, right?

Do you have a brain?

What's wrong, crow got your tongue?

(note: this is in response to the poem "Girl Who Asks Scarecrow Twenty Questions" by Allison Wilkins, in the journal Word Riot, http://www.wordriot.org/archives/3055 )

Twitter Writings 1

-- piano lesson 
little boy sits 
with his six-shooters on

-- a store filled

with dusty, old books

no one wants to buy

a nice place if

it were a library

-- when you're dying

you keep trying

to stand up

then finally

you no longer

can

-- so bright

the sun today

burning my skin

as I sit by the window

waiting for my friend

-- so rude

my welcome home

caw of crows

-- because of cell phones,

women can now do

two of their favorite

activities at the same time:

shop and talk on the phone

-- clouds reflect

golden light of sunset

my rejoicing heart  

-- busy street corner

smells of exhaust fumes

and unwashed homeless man

-- think how you'd feel

if someone came

and bombed your fields,

your country

for ten years

like we did

in Vietnam

-- dressing for school

but inside my son's shoe

Gumby

Eds summer rice: stir n bowl 1/2cup inst rice,H2O+touch oliveoil, mcrowve4min; open, add 3+cloves sliced garlic, finish cooking 1min

Lunch: mix can ProgressoMinestrone soup+can GoyaPinkBeans in sauce, divide in 3 parts, serve 1portion w/Texas Pete+summer rice+crackers

Holiday Shoppers

Let's Dance

Dazzle

Escalator Pause

Amaze

Stretching the Truth

Lightfall at the Mall

Flight of the Boomerangs

Three Haiku

during the drought
the bird bath has been filled
by the spring storm


april moonlight
a black cat waits silently
in the yard


rainy evening
home alone with tears
chopping onions


Chapel Hill News, April 23, 2008 (Note: the last poem appeared in the newspaper's print edition, while all three appeared online)


poetry, haiku

A Dusting

If you must have a snowball today,
while waiting for the school bus –
the snow isn’t on the grass –
What’s on the car is out of reach –
but it covers every leaf
that’s scattered in the yard.
Pick some up.
Wipe them on your glove.
It’s worth a try, at least.
But do it fast, and do a lot,
for if your glove is warm,
or the school bus comes too soon,
then sad to say
you won’t have a snowball today.


Luna Negra, Kent State University, Fall 1997
by Ed Bremson

poetry

Circle

Life is a journey:
the farther you roam
the nearer you are
to returning home.


Writer’s Exchange, Society Hill, South Carolina, Spring 1997
by Ed Bremson

poetry

on poetry

moot questions posed
by would-be poets
make lines that
would be poems moot.


Writer’s Exchange, Society Hill, South Carolina, Spring 1997
by Ed Bremson

poetry

Forbearance

I can’t keep my son
out of a tree.
I can forbid him,
threaten him,
say anything at all,
yet when I go outside
there he is
up there –
with a big smile
on his face.
I could hit him, I know,
and he might obey,
but I don’t have the heart
to do that, remembering,
I, too, once was a boy.


Raleigh (N.C.) Men’s Center Newsletter, January 1997
by Ed Bremson

poetry

You’re No Jack Kerouac

Suck up nicotine, beer, and pot.
Stay up sleepless, salacious nights.
Go on the road
As far and as fast as the road will go.
Then go and write what’s on your mind.
Surely your thoughts must be important then.
But it takes more than self-abuse to be an artist.


Innisfree Magazine, Manhattan Beach, California, November 1992
by Ed Bremson

poetry

Iceberg

If the human mind was an iceberg,
then consciousness would be the tip;
and the unconscious mind
would be everything else:
that which lies submerged –
vast, dark, and deep –
the ice that keeps us afloat.


Words of Wisdom, Glendora, New Jersey, June 22, 1992
by Ed Bremson

poetry

Student

He knows just enough chemistry
to make LSD:

to hold a gun to his mind
inside his brain;

to take a chance at
crapping in his genes.


Innisfree Magazine, Manhattan Beach, California, June 1992
by Ed Bremson

poetry

De Profundis?

Writing verse
with Latin words
may seem profound,

but dead languages
make living languages
dead somehow.


Thumbprints, Caro, Michigan, March 1992
by Ed Bremson

poetry

No Guarantee

Exterminators are stronger than bugs,
but only in direct contact.
It’s a big house, and there are
lots of places for bugs to go to survive.
Exterminators don’t make a living
by exterminating.


Words of Wisdom, Glendora, New Jersey, January 13, 1992

by Ed Bremson

poetry