BrooksLooks@ Writing Poetry


Writing Poetry with a Pencil
i once wrote a poem
with a pencil
right on a blank paper sheet
until a hand-me-down
Remington portable
made college life complete

clacking away on metal keys
that flew up square and neat
as a typed-out poem in parallel lines
appeared on my blank paper sheet

a spool of black and red ribbon
clicked along through a metal notch
it was as close as i had ever come
to the works of a fine Swiss watch

though clacking away faster and faster
‘til i over-clacked a little
it was at last too damned fast
and the keys got jammed in the middle

into the late pre-historic,
pre-techno age
things were still low-tech
and eclectic
when along came a thing
that became all the rage
high-tech and self-correctic
it was the best you could find
at last–the great one of a kind
IBM Selectric!

with its fancy silver alphabet ball
it turned every which way but loose
and my poem spilled out
on the blank paper sheet
my life, at last complete

alas now there was no excuse
i put the back-button into use
it would truly save the day
as mistakes were covered in little white tape
i kept on typing away

then at the dawn of our digital throes
beyond palm pilot stylus woes
behold the blackberry had finally come
soon we were addicted to typing
with each carpal sore thumb
and it now really truly grates
when my hip ‘ghost’ vibrates
still ‘crackberry’ numb

so i type out my poems
on the little white screen
and now i can email! my work
if you know what I mean
it’s quite a new perk
honestly i could just scream

it didn’t stop there
iPhones and tablets
have us all on the run
the digital arms race
had long since begun
sometimes i ponder
what progress has brung
a poet with an S4 Galaxy Samsung?

my monthly cell plan continues to rise
and my poetry production to taper
it’s time to go back
to writing each poem
with a pencil
right on a blank sheet of paper

© Copyright 2014 Brooks Bradbury, BrooksLooks

BrooksLooks@ Autumn

20171007_175232.jpgINTO THE AUTUMN

a wince too painful
not to notice
sudden stabs
of hidden hurt
presage one’s
reluctant arrival
in middle age
foretelling storms
an upside plus
bones pre-ache
reminding us
like an early warning
signal flare
to live it up
while you’re still there
a final fling
live earnestly and
we implore each other
and we allow
our time grows short
even now
hold onto me
the best is coming
yet to be
i hope
one day we will see
through autumn’s
we live forward
in a season new
life’s expectancy
comes into view
we’ll warm our hands
at life’s sweet fire
through autumn leaves
of red and gold
we’ll dance
and laugh
at getting old

© Copyright 2014 Brooks Bradbury, BROOKS LOOKS

BrooksLooks@ Linger Here

Linger Here

linger here
in this moment
in this place
meant for you
a sacred space

a micro gift
for you alone
for your soul
a sunlit ray
for you in time
here only now
along your way

fleeting moment
gone forever
if you miss it
you’ll not know
the very instant
joy presented
love and life
here all aglow

be ever ready
for little moments
that come along
arise to be
for life is seeking
your full attention
and little moments
will set you free

© COPYRIGHT 2014 Brooks Bradbury, BROOKS LOOKS

BrooksLooks@ Home is Where You Are


home was where my parents were
not exactly a home on the range
the range was where dinner was made
when eating out was rather strange

home since then has moved about
from dorm to apartment to room
it didn’t seem to matter back then
until life began to bloom

apartment life was a passing phase
before jobs and moving and ‘homes’
after those pesky ‘overdraft’ days
before mortgages, bills, and loans

a career would bring us hither and yon
to one house after another–oh my!
we lived in places we’d never dream up
a place or two we should have passed by…

years went by and Mother moved
retiring south for the winter
her home is in Carolina now
we are sadly seldom together

home passed long ago from mom to spouse
you know how wild life is
houses sometimes resembled homes
but home is where ever my wife is

our latest house is not quite home
but to me it’s crystal clear
my home is with you–it will always be so
whatever the place, whatever the year

time’s gone by and things sure change
never my place with you
now that we’ve live on the open range
eating out’s a lot less strange

my home is you

© COPYRIGHT 2014 Brooks Bradbury ǀ BROOKS LOOKS