Carolyn Brunelle Poems

It takes all kinds of days
to build a life.
Some are soft places to look back on
others filled with rancor and pain;
...

I clean and scrub
vacuum and mop;
it goes on and on
and never stops.
...

Open...
a computer file
then
open up the mind;
...

My muse is amused;
somewhat confused
that I need to sleep
waking me several times
...

Fragile ideas are rendered
benign and fruitless,
vacuumed away
in a thundrous whirlwind
...

Each day the flame weakens
old soldiers, old liberators
their deeds, our memory of them;
fading candlelight in the winds of time.
...

The morning ripe with promise
a fruited tree waiting to be harvested
flourishes in the garden of mind.
...

Just another ordinary day,
same routine brings me
to the kitchen table
for morning coffee;
...

It never takes long
to set the stage;
fire the imagination
from page to page.
...

Lives lay to waste
in a sloth, a liar, a beggar, a thief,
burdens ALL for life to carry;
they only give the world grief.
...