Gems by Gabrielle Bryant-Gainer (feel good books to read .TXT) 📕

 
Gems


Sometimes when I feel blue
I write a happy poem
And then as I write them
I think about you
I love the person who
Can feel this same strong passion
Sometimes when I feel blue
I'll write a happy poem
And if you like my poem too
Then it must be a gem
I'm happy you enjoy them
Because I think of you
Sometimes when I feel blue


 
Scorpions and Spiders


like cold white wine
on a grassy hill
his hand presses upon her cheek
chilling the back of her spine
as bedposts creak
the waters spill
and Jack runs up with Jill
in a dark black night
the liquid feels blue
you were an ocean, my love affair
the trigger at my finger
To watch the disease
Takes its coarse, like the hare
But do you care?
He leaps out into traffic
to find the hunter
caught in the headlights
to run from danger
but only to die there
On the side of the road
And who was the hunter?
Like a toad, so mystical
Kissed by the princess
on a bed beside roses
He turns into a man
But presently he can't
See if you can
See if you can handle it
I wonder how far


 
your ways have gotten you
the scorpion companion
with a hate that stings so true
and she is the spider
that weaves herself a web of lies
that trapped her inside
surrounded by flies
supplied by misery.


 
The House By The Lake

It was precisely what I had been coming here for
To find that lost gem among stars
The dewy drawings in green marking a map
Curling upon corners of this uncharted house
It feels somewhat ghostly and unapparent
Still, I lived here where the autumns stayed long
In the moment you listen to the cacophony of hums
The insects, the birds, whistling pines, you learn
I never appreciated the absence of them
The family, we made up a sort of tune
That drowned out the lake’s abandonment
Frogs propel downstream to their own
Shivering in my boyfriend's sweater
I wonder about this strange home
Where the rusted nails flail their arms like saviors
Instead, he thinks I am wondering about him
The smell of cologne still fresh on his sweater
Between him and the stretch of sweet grass I fail
Where the wild violets grow with sweet lilacs
In patches, I think about how sad I feel
Yearning to appreciate the diminished grace
The gaiety since then has been replaced
And climb in from the shore into the deep
But something inside me listens for them sleeping.


 
Magical Torment

this liquid stain marks me sane
nonsensical sensual redemption
the candle flickers magenta rays
songs the black bird could not sing
He smelt of sullen dreams despite
sulfuric sadness and knelt besides
the tragic black horse she rode that night
oh this golden suffering, holy light sleeps
like a sweet retreat, so soft and fair
those sultry tears she could not bear
with no song to sing to bones
save the dark crushing night
it awakens me, brings me further
to her bright fire sight-like blood
no pondering to speak now of
save these specks of trickery's spite
she spent her time with devils beyond
the celestial witches sit and dawn
they weave their spells woven of milkweed

 
that spills cool blue into her porcelain mind
dark flowers marked by candle light
blood heart suffers in her requiem
torn bleach skin, with starving torment
cacao demons make their sinners scream
yes all it was was a magician's dream


Healing Prayers


Hold out your hand, so golden with life
Hold out your mind, so purposeful with might
Now let me hold you, in your moment of dark
Now let me comfort you with two joined hearts
Quickly, with righteous prayers I speak
Soft soothing, in this moment of heartfelt grief
I sing to you, feed you words to soften your sorrow
The sweet wonder, of your important part tomorrow
In these passing moments, with tendering virtue
Time moves slowly, wheel turning boldly for you
Promises mending your struggling, kindred need
In this present place, a home that with love you feed
Now it is your presence, which comforts me
Now it is your resonance, which maybe
Could be that which holiness confided
Savior, protect him as he's mended

 
I know we're together, for your heart is so true
So true, that I know you will pull through
And often, in mornings with the sunlit bough
I know, you will persevere, yes I still know
Let the angels guide your hands
In this time of recovery, sing a magical song of man
And man and his bravery
Which soothes the ailing body, and heals the
demands
Of soul, spirit, heart, and these
Healing prayers


Sweet Little Dreamer


day greets me: I see the blue sky and fluffy clouds
It sees me it seems
this morning, I feel so artistic
but I have quit smoking those cigarettes
I dreamed about having a little boy
At my side, we were racing down a hill
And I told him to watch out but
He fell down so I carried him with me

 
The only sound I heard
Was the fanfare and the bubbling fountain
Within the sweet sound of feeling
Forbidden, but independent
She sat on the chair in the room
And told me to tell her the truth
I told her it was rude
To ask so much of me
And so I ran, escaped the fanfare
And took that little boy with me
Out of the dream.


Tumble


It was a rainy sadness on Saturday
the cherry blossoms appeared by the windows
just before the wind carried them
far off into the fields and streets
they never fell, they flew like dreams
carried in pink white currents
In dewy darkness, I was waiting
when it seemed so sad to tell my story
of how I wanted things to be
but I forget, after awhile how I wanted
to stop dreaming

 
and I took all those medications
as we drove mom back to the street where she grew
young
and my brother turned forty one
but I just wanted an excuse to get away from myself
I started drinking and smoking, thinking
this might all start over one day
and the dog barks at strangers every day
I thought I had a voice, but it must have tumbled
away.


Ocean Girl


An Ocean girl
not a Virginia girl
now drenched in midnight
who has slept by the fire-light
and who would wake up always
looking for the sunshine
I'll catch the stars
with my fishing rod
I am an ocean kind of girl
I see this world in sea green
in deep torrents
of perpetual blues


 
Although I've been planted firmly
at the edge of your bed
I'm moving to Carolina
to let my body be
the waters amidst shells
strip my seal skin
and swim in the deep
find myself an
Ocean boy.


Spring Time


Spring came and I spent
hours with the sun
sweet cake and ice cream
marked April
when my brother turned sixteen
as the softness of life
turned ghosts into gravel
life did quite literally spring
I forgot about the moon
late nights became soothing
birds laughing at me and at time
boys on bicycles traveled

 
the newly cobbled stone town
the days marked by
confetti cherry blossoms
yellow
and new beginnings
Came rain on Sundays
reminding me I was still
young and wasting time
I kept trying to write a book about
the future which had already
arrived at the present
still contemplating
the casualties
mom and her spiraling
ecstasies
Both did turn and smile
The father and his son
forgotten by the blue
But I picked a forget-me-not
and then I remembered you
I could not forget
the light in your eyes
most people...still know how to
smile about sadness.


 


Seven


Some days I would like
gestures of compassion
days soak up wine, soft jasmine
sifting through the door
The wind sleeps in
and rain comes in a scattered rage
I would like her to notice me
But honey is sweeter
You're gonna run babe
like you have never been in love
the sun will torment you darling,
But one day you will be some one
Each morning turns in the seven day cycle
I am learning to write memories in ashes
leftover from a night sleepy smoking
thinking of tomorrow when you forget me
The day will be wrapped in glory
The whitest shimmer of clean and gone
But the passageways are always blaming me
On the progress of our nothings
Maybe then they will stop laughing
As they walk away

 
And just for a moment
I'll be seven, seven and beautiful
Just maybe...


Back to Italy


She notices that I've been here
For a long time at her side
Holding her hand and
Talking words which do not escape
When reason does.
Holding red flowers
Like a lover of everyone
Lost to no one
Under the glowing sun.
Brought into a new world
by spoken matters of concern
dousing those lost-in-thought
blue eyes that burn.
The shimmer of regret, abated
as life newly wed, in red
Created from devotion
Praying for an opening in heaven.


 
someone please
let me in
or at least help me
Make a soft landing
a pond of thoughts arriving
wordless ideals leave
How I cry, how he cries
How she cries...in that lost caravan in the sky.


The fog lights float
Over the Italian mirage, sheets of magic
twirl in the wind
she suggests some company
Perhaps a bottle of Merlot
The ecstatic purpose
beyond the illusive truth
of memory.
And happiness is a subtly
Her soul barks at the wind more fiercely
Than the babble of the brook
Running loosely between
My fingers.
All the information that I don't know
Those answers that seemed to have failed me
While she forgets faces and their smiles
Still she listens at the symphony
Of life, just happy to be making

 
One more cycle to infinity.
Sometimes trailing off like a bicycle
spinning like a ribbon in a hurricane
the sun passes into lost worlds
There's no such thing as pain.
She is painting all these pictures in bones-
the reality of her son
Where road leads to somewhere, this I believe is
true
But each day will C r u m b l e
like golden bread crumbs
for birds in the morning
Forget me not...she says through the picture
I will remember her, I know this is true
But some days I wonder about her
and when I stare into the blue this comes to mind
There was something so angelic
in the room of her sky.


 


My Town


What I know of my town
She seems to always have been
Such an outcast, as though she'd seen
The soldiers cry, before they fought
Into the night, as if in one instant their
Cavalry would be rushing by
To carry them away from death's sharp bite.
Perhaps a sort of Magdalene
Her voice carried oft' times by the wind
She'd be gathering her disciples in
From across the world
And although their eyes were still so heavy
From such awful rivalries
Upon her bosom, they'd rest