Pedals on roses
So beautiful, inspiring
Like the best of friends
  Such grace some posess
Finer than the finest rose
Give life grand tenor
  Like a ray of light
on the first sunny spring day,
you bring me great joy.
  To bring others joy,
to make them laugh, dance, smile,
is its own reward.
  While roses may wilt
At the slightest of lifes storms
True friends always bloom.
  What is happiness?
Good times with a good friend?
Or a box of See's?
  Such beautiful eyes,
Radiant, glowing, deep pools,
Shinging down on me.
I'll be there for you

Through the good and the bad

No matter the cost

When life has you down

Because you do so well

At the good times we've shared

When we have to part

As you walk in through the door

More than anything
Blessed because you are my friend

  Gracefully she walks
Through my every waking thought
Light as a feather
  As the red rose blooms,
taking strength from the soil.
Makes life smell so sweet.

Such is a true love;
giving strength, support, kindness.
So that both may grow.
  Gut me
HaTe Me

Grinding, pulsing, tensing

Can't go. Need to go. Won't go

To stay would be insane, but I do it anyway
The only reason why
The thing that drives my life
Is an undying love

  Where is meaning?
how does one find a motive?
oh, why bother.

When will it all end?
is there deeper meaning?
life must have value.

lonelyness brings pain.
Learning from pain is so hard.
one o'ercomes in time.

very hard to do.
easilly preached and ignored.
Metalic tasting.

exhaustion, sleep, dream.
  Lifes many trials,
Tribulations, complications
May seem to o'erwhelm.

Solace out of reach.
In a desert without bounds.
A lonely critter howls.

Shivers grip the spine.
Where is the source of that sound?
Hear it draw so near.

A flash of bright light,
The fog appears to receed,
The truth becomes clear.
  I've but one question.
All else pales by its side.
Will you answer me?
  Long walks in the rain.
Those tear-filled and lonely nights,
in search of answers.
  Why do I love?
Why do I think?
Because you inspire me.

The way you accept.
The way you critique.
Make my spirit fly.

  outter sheen, inner fire
perched on high

lave in suns simple shoot
in kings kingdom
deny the fool

peasants affections plee
eagles fly high
o'er me.

  Are they green today?
Or maybe a shade of blue?
Either way enchanting.
  Such beautiful eyes
gaze up a the stary skies.
Deep shimmering pools.
that which was lost from my life.
Time slipping by. Lost to what?
The sea carries it back to me
in the form of a flower.
  In life there are seasons.
Dreary winters, gay summers.
May yours be like spring.
  May the sun shine down
Grace the day with balmy warmth
Please don't let me burn
  Disks, fragile and small.
Sneakernet is getting rare.
Extiction is near.
  They can tap to tunes.
Watch them fly accross the keys.
Where is your finger?
  Food from the Bra place.
What a delicious menu.
Lemonade for all!
  Is finger Internet
me crush language chain
spring those shot this
pedestrian ache could drool
nanosecond boy burn essential fluff

(c)1997 Brett T Warden
  Must frantic beauty boil away light?
Then above bare vision void,
sincerely beneath sweet garden rain,
Sleep there my blue summer friend.

We dream by pink moon water,
you whisper shadow forest poetry
Shine rose as I sing about a sea.

(c)1997 Brett T Warden
  The Eagle and the Serpent.

The Eagle and the Serpent are my animals.
But my eagle is cripled,
He can caw,
Claw with his talons,
Smite with his beak,
Ferocious, terrible, unaproachable.
Occassionaly he even stretches his wings
In a regal pose.
But his wings are broken;
He cannot soar.
He sits, hops around a bit but
His fearsome cries are
Bitter prtestes at his ground-bound fate.
He cannot carry the serpent,
Or fly above as scout and spy,
But must constantly watch,
For the serpent will not accept this
Crippled ally.
Rather she turns upon the eagle, Hissing
"Pride goeth before the fall"
And threatening
To strike.
But more often the serpent ignores
The eagle,
Content instead
To bite her own tail
In an eternal circle,
Convincing herself that she
Is no serpent
But rather a worm in disguise,
And bemoaning how little her
Earth-hugging form can see.

If the Eagle could fly,
The pair might accomplish much,
The serpent inspired by
The eagle's view.
And if the snake killed the eagle,
She might forget the heights and
Content herself with her own world.
But the serpent will not bite the eagle,
Whether to kill or heal:
She fears the beak and talons.
So she hisses with the venom inside,
And bites her own tail.

The eagle and the serpent
Are my animals,
But the are no crossing over.
Rather they eye each other threateningly, Circle in mock combat
Sad and laughable
And strange.

Peter Bruland

Note: Unless stated otherwise, all works on this page are the original thoughts, ideas, and expressions of me