Tag: bryson thomas

The coat

A thought of you,
Ran through my mind,
And left its woolly coat behind,
Draped on a chair,
Belonging there,
Merino, cashmere, satin-lined.

It’s oversized,
To match your smile,
Methinks I’ll wear it, for a while,
Of worsted shrugs,
And winter hugs,
And perfect living, cafe style.

If purl and knit,
Could but conceive,
Your life would spring forth from the weave,
A yarn in felt,
Cinched by a belt,
A complex fashion few achieve.

But this remains,
A phantom thread,
Entwined by needles in my head,
The thread re-caked,
A thought half-baked, for
Alas, I am alone instead.

Bryson Thomas
Swelter Skelter

My feet are bellows,
Forcing furnace-fired air
From my instep through my shoes,
Heating socks and venting from cracks
In the black-waxed pair.

The rouge powder dirt
Plumes about tired trees,
White-gum bark flush with rosacea
As sweat pricks at the heat-rash
Playing house above my knees.

Across the rail lines
Warped and poorly drawn,
Shimmers dance and locusts crack
From leprechaun places
In the high school lawn.

My sagging backpack
Leaching all my resolve,
Its sweaty shroud kneels heavy
On a once-fresh shirt, praying
Pedagogical mass.

Year nine in Australia
And it’s 44 centigrade,
At least, that’s what I’ll remember
Getting to class in December,
As finer details fade.

Bryson Thomas
Love Cycle

Today, Winter sits on our shoulders
As our boots munch on the path,
And I love you.

Today, Spring casts off its jacket
And skips ahead of our bikes,
And I love you.

Today, Summer spreads its feast on a blanket
As we wiggle our toes,
And I love you.

Today, Autumn steeps tired leaves in honey-tea light
And calls us home,
And I love you.

Four days of love.
Forever.

Bryson Thomas
Verse Reverse.

Forgive these reams of empty pages,
You see, my mind is full of blocks,
Poetic lines backed up for ages,
A drawer of single socks.

Bryson Thomas
ADHD – With a nod to Eminem

My mind is a multiverse of parallel thoughts.
I see the forests and every single tree,
And the leaves, grass, needles and buds,
Chlorophylled chaos pressed into newsprint,
Where all the stories lead.
A book of unnumbered pages,
Shuffled ’til they flutter with,
Pigeons in the street,
Shooed by a doorman,
Stood sentry at a revolving doorway,
A carousel of shifting rooms,
Sirens of possibility pulling at my soul.

But now the carousel acts centrifuge.
Concentrating all my focus.
On to one, brilliant slide.
Universes retract.
Galaxies collapse.
A wondrous

Singularity

.

Let
There be
Bright creation!
To split the rumination,
Nascent worlds and systems,
And comets and stars and

Oops! There’s a galaxy,
Oops! There’s some gravity,

Pulling me down to earth,
Circling the sun,
Spinning around a viscous core,
And I take back the mantel,
Of divided attention,
And once again,
Let my mind refract the world,
So I might dance among colourful thoughts.

Bryson Thomas
More or Less

Daily writing prompt
What could you do less of?
View all responses

Frankly, I could do less of more,
So many things,
And what are they for?
Something else I must confess;
I could surely do more,
With more of less.

But doing less of more,
Means less more with less.
You see the source of my distress?
The less I do, the more I stress, but
I’ll figure it out…
More or less.

Bryson Thomas
Television

Some nights, we wade into our comfy couch,

To soak, in front of the box.

You nestle a pillow into my lap,

My fingers twirling your locks.

There’s not much to say,

It’s been a long day,

Filled with computers, and phones,

So there’s no higher brew,

Than sitting with you,

As your warmth gets into my bones.

Bryson Thomas
Peeves

I’d like to introduce you
To my newest house pet, Peeves.
He always stays too close to me
And rarely ever leaves.
He likes to burrow ‘neath the skin
All comfy, warm and snug,
Then, wake at night and crawl around
All scratchy, like a bug.
Frustration is his favourite food
Anger is his drink
Just call him and he’s by my side
Faster than you’d think
I find him in small places
I see him everywhere
The way you pack a dishwasher
The tangles in my hair
In grammar, punctuation,
In boats and speeding cars
Just last week I found him hiding
Where my sister rolls her ‘r’s
Honestly, he’s everywhere
And catching, like the flu
So now, I see you leaving
Please, just take him home
With you.

Bryson Thomas
Vale Erato.

Fall to the floor,
Let loose your breath,
Drop tears to drown,
That curséd guest, death.
Pull children closer,
And quell their squirms,
Settle your gripes,
On generous terms.
Snuff all the candles,
Draw all the blinds,
Table your reading,
And focus your minds.
The muse has departed,
And taken the words,
She’s gone to Nirvana,
To live with the birds.
Without a good-bye,
Neither note, nor warning,
Just passed in the night,
And left us in mourning.
She’s frozen all hearts,
And dampened all meaning,
The act of creation,
Now purposeless gleaning.
The art has no reason,
So cannot be art,
The muse, in her leaving,
Has torn it apart.
So wear the black vestments,
Sit vigil and wake,
For art without muse,
Is art without sake.

Bryson Thomas
All the better

Daily writing prompt
Do you ever see wild animals?
View all responses

Midnight dark, and
I wake feeling
Something prickly,
‘Neath the ceiling.

From my bed,
A mid-dream rouse,
I bate my breath,
In Grandma’s house.

Red socks, silent
Cross the floor,
Wide eyes, peaking
Through her door.

Midnight dark,
But I see teeth,
Crouching, creeping,
Drool beneath.

Hovered there,
Close to head,
A hungry mouth
By Grandma’s bed.

An evil presence,
A snarling fright.
A nightmare, frozen,
In mid bite.

What to do?
My brain is screaming.
Struck with terror.
Grandma dreaming.

With shuddered breath,
And faking brave,
My helpless elder
I must save.

Midnight dark
Will do no more.
I flick the light –

And hit the floor.

The room resounds
With Grandma’s yells.
My nightmare now
The worst of hells!

For, on the bedside,
Laughing last, float
Granny’s dentures,

In a glass.

Bryson Thomas