Simple Things
Copyright 2014 Carlene Carter Brandon
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Dedicated to my father, Stephen L Brandon, who has been a constant sustaining force throughout my life.
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I wrote these poems, being moved by the life's simple things.
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Some of you may remember that I told you that I would tell you what the dark speck in the sky above the title. Well, it is one of those simple things that show up once in awhile. It is bird flying high and free, like we all would like to be.
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Table of Contents ~(ToC)~
Ode to My Dad
I Won the Battle
Northern Winds
The Great Alexander
Little Bradleigh
Blood Diamond Slaves
Indifference of Men
About Carlene Carter Brandon
Other poetry published by Carlene Carter Brandon
Connect with Carlene Carter Brandon
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“Ode to My Dad”
My poetry born of a certain sorrow
Hauntingly covets me all my days
Shackled to a chain of emotions
A haunting portrait that never fades
When darkness ascends upon me
My inner child beckons to run
Struggling to break from emotional restraints
My battle within has begun
The image I see in the mirror
A reflection of a wounded soul
The questions to the truth I seek
From my father will never be told
He selfishly abandoned his own
When I was barely two
Foolishly discarding me
Like a pair of old worn out shoes
Yet with Dad's constant nurturing
I fermented into fine wine
Because he unselfishly grew me
I flourished like sweet grapes on the vine.
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I Won the Battle
or
The Battle
Lord shelter me from raging storms
Set my heart on fire to keep me warm
Shower me with your perfect love
Pure as the rain from the Heavens above
Feed my spirit when burdened and empty
Bearing sweet fruit, The Garden of Plenty.
Fill my cup till it runneth over
In Christ I'll grow into a soldier.
Soften my heart when it has hardened
With Crimson blood my sins you've pardoned
Make me strong when I am weak
My darkest hour, Mercy I seek.
Help me be humble and not be prideful
So in your presence I am more mindful.
Lord help me to run a little faster
From Satan's grip the deceptive master.
Help me bow down on bended knee
Hands folded “Lord help me please.”
Walk beside me all my days and ...
Nurture me with your loving grace
Wash my feet when they are dirty
So in your eyes I know am worthy
Cleanse my soul from all that's blemished
Am rest assured, demons diminished
Welcome me to the Portals Gate
St. Peters hands I'll gladly shake.
Lord, wipe my tears from my face
I won the battle and the race.
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Northern Winds
On a northern wintry day, I being captivated
By a flurry of Snow Angels ... delicately
Dancing a tantalizing Russian Ballet
To a symphony of melodic northern winds
By nightfall, I in my cozy little cottage
Nestled up by the roaring fireplace being serenaded by its crackling
Mesmerized by its lively flickering flames of amber
Drifting upward in the chimney till the sparks meet their end.
There, down the way, just beyond the snow covered evergreens
Where the frozen glistening pond meets
The now blanketed tundra
Beneath the surface of both life hibernates
Welcoming in the warmth of spring
The ballet and serenades till winter cease
There beneath the tundra and pond
The emerging rebirth of life awaits.
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The Great Alexander
Wayward drifter drifting aimlessly
In the pitch of night.
On a voyage seeking refuge
A refugee sinking in trifling strife.
You recklessly fill your boots
With evil spirits you crave and thirst
Always confrontational but ... your point, pointless
I don't give a damn, whether the chicken or egg came first.
Arrogantly scoffing the scoffers, ironically
Your the biggest offender of all.
Boasting about your degrees to others
In an effort to make them feel small
You foolish drifter adrift
On the perilous waves
Your vessel, a broken anchor
A wretched soul to save.
Your stern is weak ... lacking
The backbone to sail through troubled waters.
Lack of character to be defined
By the actions of your drunken stupor father.
Your sense of humor is warped
Child like fear's, your bow spiritually broken.
Hoist the sails on a coarse seeking sobriety
Lest you drown in self pity, a drunkard devils token.
Look to the heavens “Red sky at morning”
“Foolish sailor had better, heed warning”
The wind in your sails, knocked out
Gasping for air into the Devils triangle you're morphing.
A sailor with no sense of direction is like
A broken compass, both have no purpose
There deep in the pitch of night
When attacked by panic, your demons will surface.
I propose a toast and raise my crystal glass.
Toasting your psycho babble bullshit prattle.
Bon Voyage to Alex, thumb up his ass, head in the bottle.
Sailing up Shit Creek, without a paddle.
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Little Bradleigh
Oh, adventurous Bradleigh racing about
with a glad heart.
With a child's imagination, turned
a box into a go cart.
Whose laughter resonates through the
fresh morning air.
Dimpled cheeks and braids adorned by
ribbons ... woven in your hair.
Gentle little bud in the desert, will
stubbornly bloom.
You are by far the brightest flower
on the blistering dune.
As the morning dew glistens against
your glowing bronze skin.
Your mothers songs are carried far,
By the gusty ancestral winds.
“May you always sing j
oyfully, till
your little hearts content”
“May you always play happily, till
over the dunes the sun descends.”
“Tender is the night, when
your soul is at sleep.”
“May the Lord keep you safe,
as the Good Shepherd, who keeps his sheep.”
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Blood Diamond Slaves
Of misery and bondage are
sparkling diamonds.
On a golden wedding band.
Born from the fields of Sierra Leone
Panned with slaves trembling hands
The beauty of diamonds lose their luster
When thousands, whose precious blood is shed
Where stones pan up in the million dollar clusters
And still, ... hungry mouths go to bed unfed.
Where does anarchy draw the line, so fine
In the fields where the diamonds grow
Not even at the expense of children
Whose hearts were once pure as snow
There's not enough rain from the Heavens above
To wash the blood stained soil away
In the diamond fields of Sierra Leone
Where blood diamond slaves dug their own graves.
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Indifference of Men
You dare to tread where I have gone
Where evil lurks from dust till dawn
In the shadows where demons hide
From howling winds the innocent cries
On the tracks their bodies dumped
On hidden in your neighbors trunk
Evil deeds the wicked do
Murderers amongst us who left no clue
So wheres the justice in the system
A driven force without a piston
An unsolved mystery, the case is closed
The indifference of men .. but God still knows
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(ToC)
About the Author
A child of the 60's, and a product of my environment.
My parents divorced when I was two, so it was my loving and nurturing Mom and me, until I turned nine. She met this wonderful young soldier, fell in love, got married, and we were introduced to a whole new world, Germany.
This perfect union afforded me many opportunities to travel and meet people of different cultures, learn the German language, and old world traditions. Thank you Dad for opening doors.
One of the most memorable times in my life was visiting the American Military Cemetery in Luxembourg. Before me was a sea of white crosses. I stood there and wept. At the age of 12 this experience had a monumental impact on my life. Our American soldiers of yesteryear buried on foreign soil. The memory of that sight still humbles me to this day. At that very pivotal moment in time, I understood why we were overseas, to fight oppression, and to ensure the freedom and liberties of our brothers and sisters abroad.
I worked at Clyde Cosper VA nursing home and heard countless war stories about the Battle of the Bulge, Korea, and Vietnam Nam. I have the utmost respect for these men as well as for the women that served. They proudly displayed their portraits in the hall by their doors. They looked like movie stars, and to me they were bigger than life, “American hero's.” As a CNA I was honored to be in their presence and took great pride in my work.
My hobbies are collecting rocks, fossils, sea shells, antiques, and making jewelry. My favorite sights are the Painted Desert and Grand Canyon. Awesome. Put that on your bucket list.
My bucket list; The Redwood Forest, the loves of my life my four children and five wonderful grandchildren.
My favorite movie, It's a Wonderful Life, the scene where they are dancing in gym over the pool and the floor opens.
Favorite song: How Great Thou Art. Favorite Singer: Joni Mitchell.
Besides writing poetry, I research my families genealogy. My Uncle Nelson got me interested, I miss him so much! By the way, "How is it up there?"
With the love and support of my Dad, Stephen Brandon, an aspiring writer in his own right, I decided to share a few of my poems with you.
I know this was long, and thank you for your time and interest.
Enjoy,
Carlene Carter Brandon
Other poetry by this author
Poems by Deborah
Grandpa's Box
From the Heart
Satan's Puppet
Poems for the Soul
Poems Put to Paper in 2012
Honoring Ancestors
Dineh
Connect with Carlene Carter Brandon
Friend me on Facebook: My old page
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