I’m not driven
Here to scriven,
But something once I took as given
Has, of late, been riven,
Seemingly, by me just live’n.
All the thoughts, my mind is sieve’n,
And the rhymes are misbehaving.
Bryson Thomas
Tag: rhyming verse
-
Fame is correlation
Not a causeA coincidence of luck
That opens doorsA megaphone for voices
Sounding wiseBut catering to tastes
Of passing fliesMercurial
Ethereal
Nutritious as kids’ cereal
A sparkle
On the turds
Of crushing bores.Bryson Thomas
-
Entwined
Embraced
Entranced
Enlaced
Our hands
Our strands
Our harmonic bandsIn mind
We find
Our thoughts
In kind
Apart
We stretch
The other
To fetchIn love
In love
In deep
Complete
Oh, how I’m tangled in you.
Bryson Thomas
-
Stand agog at my collection,
Let thine eyes squint at the glitter,
As I adjust my prostrate form,
And languish on my litter.
Amongst these bracing stalactites,
My treasures flow in drifts,
Exposing shining memories,
As my plated belly shifts.
My thoughts pile deep around me,
Golden coins cast down this well,
Each a wish for loved-ones,
Or a story hard to tell.
These riches are my children,
I love them all the best,
Secured by stone and earth above,
Held closely to my chest.But lest ye think I’m but a worm,
Ensconced beneath your shoes,
There was a time I sought the light,
And had no wealth to lose.
In truth, I soared in years long passed,
Free of fears and full of wonder,
My scales would shatter sunlight,
And life was mine to plunder.
It was love that brought me down to earth,
A knight that pierced my heart,
Some call him saint, I named him George,
He had me from the start.
His love the greatest diamond,
Cool to touch and free of flaw,
My flames were immolation,
When I lost him to a war.
So I nestle here in darkness,
Where my dragon heart beats calmer,
Breathing sulphur vapours from the stream,
Surrounded by my armour.
Think ye not of stealing,
But a penny of this wealth,
My talons are still sharp as wit, my
Defences in good health.
For all of this is part of me,
Every shimmer, spark and gleam,
So hasten ye away from here,
And leave me to my dream.Bryson Thomas
-
I can still hear your voice, my friend,
Rising easily over the din,
You’re cooking too much food,
And saying something rude,
And welcoming someone else in.I know you’re away, my friend,
But it can’t really be all that far,
You’ve gone out for a dance,
Put a split in your pants,
Or made seven new friends at the bar.You’re probably busy, my friend,
Not a second of your time is wasted,
You’re laughing at jokes,
Making strong rum and cokes,
And the best meals that anyone’s tasted.So thanks for it all, my friend,
Even if I forget some small bits,
I will always still hear you,
Even though I’m not near you,
Shouting “Oy! This’ll rip off your tits!”
I miss you so fiercely, my friend,
All the way down to my core,
But you sure let it rip
And then took that last ship
And left us all wanting for more.And wherever you are, my dear friend,
Even if that’s somewhere above,
Thanks for showing us living,
Is for laughing and giving,
And that everything comes down to love.Bryson Thomas
-
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
-
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
-
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
-
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
-
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
brysonthomas 