Thursday 5 November 2015

5 Poems by Bob Brill

To Benton at Age 5 Months

I envy you babies who bathe all day
in the shimmering golden light
that streams through the nursery windows.
You have yet to learn the ropes
that tie us in knots
and choke off access
to the infinite bounty
of the suck-titty world.

Writer's Block

I stagger across
that thirsty desert
with eyes bulging

for a glimpse of an oasis
where words flow in generous
never depleted fountains

and beautiful maidens
serve overflowing cups of metaphors
that spill on the ground of my desire

to spawn a prolific flowering
of words that sprout wings
and fly off in all directions.

Till then I wander the desert
that so resembles
a blank sheet of paper.

Not Now

I embrace her
to offer support
in her time of grief.

The warmth of her body
heats the desire
I didn't know I had.

I press her close,
she kisses my cheek
as tears stream from her eyes.

This is not the time,
not the place,
maybe not even a good idea.

We separate,
but a signal has been passed
that will be processed at a later time.

One Two

I celebrate
the oneness of two,
my wife and I
forty years together,
still in love.

I celebrate
the twoness of one,
as my eyes caress
attractive women passing
on the street.

Have I ever acted
on that desire?
Yes, I have,
more than once,
more than twice.

And so has she,
not just one or two times,
but as I said above,
still together,
still in love.

How the Bees Do It

The drone bee has forty thousand eyes.
He grows fat on sweet syrups
and gathers none.
He gorges with his brethren in the palace.

On the day of the nuptial flight
all forty thousand eyes
and the single phallus
are bent on royal copulation.

On this same day
the one winner
and the many losers
are massacred by the honey gatherers.


Bob Brill is a retired computer programmer and digital artist. He is now devoting his energies to writing fiction and poetry. His novellas, short stories and 140 poems have appeared in over forty online magazines, print journals, and anthologies.

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