Often, In My Dreams.

When the beats are low and visions are light,
Often, in my dreams, I see an unseen sight.
Through nervous passage to uneasy chore,
My anxious sensation does open the door.
It’s vast and beautiful; the pure and divine,
I blink my eyes, and wonder, if it’s mine.
If crawl or run; me, the clueless, a new born,
Perhaps, too insane to anticipate due morn.
The wind, the guide, and few lessons to fly,
Though fledge less flight; I measure the sky.

Ode On Old Virtues - Ii

Let me not play tuneless in today's time,
Some purists sure get praised as Gandhian,
Yet, crass nevertheless is no more crime,
Old values are hailed may be in heaven.

Whilst weighing values for the weathered time,
Let's mull on old saying: Thou shouldst secure
Safe income ere vouchsafing virtues pure;
So, wisdom weighs more than values' old chime.

Inveterate Expresser

Eager to announce an opinion
Itching to speak, to divulge and declare
Often clueless, unknowing
Yet, raring to express;
Expressing contempt rather than
Devoting thought to its doubts
Passing judgment instead of
Grieving over its folly
Rather than remaining silent
Is always declaiming something

Profitless Fortification

Dispel the darkness frightful
in the prideful, hardened mind
feigning greedily to be kind...
who in the secret, inmost soul
runs as a clueless, aimless mole.

Dispel the darkness tenacious
the fulsome bag of tricks mendacious

Late Love

How they strut about, people in love,
How tall they grow, pleased with themselves,
Their hair, glossy, their skin shining.
They don't remember who they have been.

How filmic they are just for this time.
How important they've become - secret, above
The order of things, the dreary mundane.
Every church bell ringing, a fresh sign.


Grateful ever I’m
Crating reminiscences
From ever-evanescing hours
Like precious fossils
From receding marine streams

Nescient of times ahead
What else to opt for?
Clueless are humans of
The impending divine deluge

* Mother-Son Unbroken Cord

for my mother

I am clueless how brave you are
while conceiving me as mysterious infinitesimal cell at first
floating inside your excruciating underwater womb
waiting patiently the approaching 12th day of December 1979
and the upcoming fearful twin of all birth -
the tragic death

I can't imagine the motherly sacrifice

Daughter's Heartache (Fr. Aida Azzopardi)

I feel alone
This space in my heart is hurting
It's a hole that yr love has left
The emptiness I try to fill it
With food and poetry is an enduring vortex
No matter what I do, to not think about you
Carries a burden I wish to leave
There's things like a memory making the pain increase
And the tears will not stop
I ache in darkness with no one's help

Intriguing Mystery

Humming of endless mystery
Life glides down noiseless
Like a trail running into the dark
With thick drapes drawn down

What is anticipated, rarely happens
What is dreamed, never even half realized
What occurs, never in advance sighted
What is sighted, not fully understood

Wandering Cloud

Relaxing in a lazy chair
Casuarina branches, painted on an ever blue sky
A breeze of traveling fresh air
A wondrous white cloud wanders by

Where it will go I am clueless
before long, all again is blueness
I feel a bit lost without
my wandering white wondrous cloud

Fleeing Love Affairs

I feel like I'm drenched in the Arctic sand,
While listening to the music of downfall bands.
My heart does not recognize your great existence,
Because you are fixated on someone else's residence.

Getting my license after you left me,
To keep the promise we made at matrimony.
I guess you love being in a getaway car.
Going from town to town with your body and your guitar.

Bri's January 2023 [ Part One Of Two Parts ] Showcase Of Others' Poems From P-H....[ Sharing; Time-On-My-Hands ]

In the 'Add New Poem' instructions PH says 'Take a deep breathe',
but it should say 'breath' [rhymes with death], so I now DO grieve!
It's a grammatical error, one even (I think) 'Bri' has made in the past,
AND I'll bet my high school English teachers would....now be aghast!

Ok, this site is NOT perfect, & partly due to that some poets have left.
I was fond of some of them and now I, Bri, am missing them. I'm bereft.
And some of 'them' were PH fans of mine. I am missing that aspect too.

~an Obscene Scene~

Welcome to the scene
There's some stains from a loather
A twisted love conveyed
By what's drained on the covers

Passions at their peak on the prowl
Through the process
Glistening lips that whisper
To the captain of the cockpit

The Devil's Due

Did you sell your soul
For a sensual smile
On a younger model
With a wayward style
That makes you feel young again?

Does she make you tingle
Make you lose your mind
Make you think you're single
But she's not your kind -

I'M Sorry

I’m sorry I love you
I’m sorry I miss you
I’m sorry I’m not perfect
I’m sorry I’m not smart
I’m sorry I’m not funny
I’m sorry I don’t talk a lot
I’m sorry I’m not pretty
I’m sorry I’m not what you expected
I’m sorry I believed in you
I’m sorry I trusted you

Dilemma Of Love

It was nineteen sixty nine
October twenty nine to be exact,
She appeared there on the scene
At Asha Sadan in a coastal town
Around two twenty, at the noon,
With her three little lovely kids,
Aged one to four, and husband;
She's she, Shobha of Cannanore,
Young, mere twenty one in age,
Eager, vivacious and pretty like rose,

January 2019 P H Showcase Of Poems …[ Of And For P H Poets & Related Species ]

Now that I've typed 2019, I'll concentrate,
to, this New Year's showcase, consecrate …
to the "divine purpose" of entertaining you,
with dozens of poems, or ….at least a few,
chosen from MyPoemList and ELSEWHERE.
If some don't "suit your fancy", I don't care!

I trust readers have "made it" another year,
though one fine PH friend did not, ‘I fear'.
OK! Some know Bri enough to know I lie,


Last night, Lisa, Peter, Leeza and I were in her father's 50th floor study watching New York City. It's a corner room with glass walls from floor to ceiling. He likes to watch the city himself and has a small,5 seat sectional couch facing the view.

The left wall window looks across Hell's Kitchen to exactly where Sully Sullenberger crash landed flight 1549 in the Hudson river (it was 3: 31 pm and no one was home) . The right window overlooks Central Park and Upper Manhattan. Lincoln Center, almost dead center of the corner, looks like part of a toy train-set.


He sipped the elixir
With the same degree
Of guilt or satisfaction
That Adam had
When he bit into
The forbidden apple
Offered to him by Eve

What followed was really
Quite unimaginable for him

A Camphor In The Air

I am ageing
start was slow
but pace is fast

I did not realise
only when the hair greyed
did I wonder
that I am matured