Hand to Catch

Her Face tickled by the zig zag stubble in the sea weed
She wore a Silk Rorschach mask to sleep in the clay
Like an Alabaster Ghost Woman face to face with a squid
Sleepy eyes, reading they start to wrinkle
Wild waves between her toes not her hand to catch
Sun sets star begin to twinkle
Woman raised her cap in an abruptly fetch
A bit damp waltzing as the cat’s tinkles’

Lobe to Lobe

Old Octopus woman camping on water
Lobe to Lobe
Gathering Tuff from the midland bogs
Lost her new red cap at stone cutters yard
Passed by the half-life of the old tramp
Dumping water and stones, from her left boot
Ninety nine times’ guilty only circumstantial
Un-weeded garden, grows no more
Wrongfully condemned, one more outrage
Curbstone requiem’s mass funeral was yesterday
They still love reading about her today

Sleepy Whale #203

Blood wet Irish Cephalopod
Try to remove haunting remorse
Of our Soul’s divorce
Lonely silence drinking the Church Broth
Emunctory wroth
Star thrown shadows follow the nights’ course
Like her burr sticking in the mane of a horse
Ruddy Wool’s haunting moth
Meadow of her murmuring water
Great brightness is the complaint
Robbing peter to pay Squatter’s Pub
Mercy of God, oh so faint
Henchman began the slaughter
Islamic of Sages and Saints

Terry Brinkman has been painting for over forty five years. Poems in Rue Scribe, Tiny Seed. Winamop, Snapdragon Journal, Poets Choice, Adelaide Magazine, Variant, the Writing Disorder, Ink Pantry, In Parentheses, Ariel Chat, New Ulster, Glove, and in Pamp-le-mousse, North Dakota Quarterly, Barzakh, Urban Arts, Wingless Dreamer, LKMNDS and Elavation.

You can find more of Terry’s work here on Ink Pantry.