BrooksLooks@ Home is Where You Are

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

BrooksLooks@ Crumbling

20181118_114538

Crumbling
sermons unheard
the unspoken good word
a song unsung
lessons unlearned
in an inhospitable place
where manners don’t matter
to an inhuman race
cruelty seeps
onto the world’s bloody streets
gunfire and grief
beyond our belief
shots fired
our frayed nerves hot-wired
dignity’s bridges burned
simple kindness spurned
if civility is lost
was compassion the cost?
beneath uneasy skies
too many why’s
morality decried
a teacher defied
a pastor sighs
and the poet cries

© Copyright 2014 Brooks Bradbury | BROOKS LOOKS

BrooksLooks@ Native Son

Native Son 
November 2013   
 
the generation after the greatest one 
grew up as proud daughter and son 
heir to their own brave new world 
in a new time their lives unfurled   
 
fresh challenges and future shock 
nuclear ticks on a doomsday clock 
mindful of the price once paid 
for freedom earned with blood in trade 
 
perplexed at today’s reality  
perhaps the greatest regret what they have done
in this tear-it-down mentality 
what are the feelings felt by its native son? 
 
still these are the days 
of a future gratefully sought 
do the greatest ones regret
what they have wrought?  
 
pachyderm rule over a herd of red asses 
vigilant guardians of a racist view 
native sons shocked at what passes
democracy led askew 
 
they have endured the age’s new ways
techno gifts of a digital dawn
old minds turn negative and stiff 
wherever has ‘what’s right’ gone? 

© 2013 Brooks Bradbury / Innspired Hospitality