Sing a Song So Senseless

My flimsy memory falters
In traces ‘round the sun
Seemingly undone

Sing a song of poesy
A pocket full of lines
Where messages
Composed in threes
Like waiting wishes lie

Flooded trips
That hide their shine
Forever wonder why
That run of blackbirds
Circles by

I’m baked into a Big Sky pie

Brenda Warren 2017


Visit The Sunday Whirl


In this dark nation where votes
Empty opportunity
While crowds cheer
I feel baffled
I fear the fruits of ignorance
Polished and waxed
By those truly tasting
Authority’s glory
They see themselves reflected
In the smiling face of fuck you
Smug. A little bit richer than before
They spin their crime like a top
Whirring and blurring
Our nation’s deep loss

Brenda Warren 2017

day 29

lace curtains spiral patterns on the floor
mimicking breezes
sending prayers to the saints who can save her life

for RB

Paint her a saint
To stand by her side
Righteous & unafraid
A sum of all prayers
Wavering curtains
Veil the pain in her eyes

Regret forms like foam on the sea

Paint her a saint
With anchors to hold her
Tethered & grounded
Through life’s torrid swells
Teach her to weather
Storms that she runs from

Her body lists left when she sings

Paint her a saint
Covered with flowers
Vibrant & benevolent
Settle her sullied spirit
With blooming white zinnias
Wreathed and weaved into wings

She knows she’s alive when she bleeds

Brenda Warren 2017


Unsolicited Advice

Split the sheets
Shuffle off your spousal coil
Strip that man right outta your hair
It’s lethal—
That feeling like the bottom of your soul’s on fire
Let it go
Let it roll

Before it turns to ash

Brenda Warren 2017


Bittersweet regret
Remains beneath my tongue
Hiding its lashes
Fighting its voice
It hisses
It stings
And it stutters
Trying to lose its place
In this life
So far from home

Brenda Warren 2017


Faerie Garden

Ceramic domed home
From many moons past
A sacred space for faerie grace

Auger shells form a white spiked fence
Arcing its way round
A smooth stone patio
Jade to embrace
Jasper for courage
Petrified wood for strength

Fuchsia lanterns hang a magenta heaven
Across a carpet of stars
To the small pond
Reflecting fireflies
Where toads rasp hollow
And groundhogs drink
Deep in the new moon night

Near the pond,
A rusted wrench grants faerie wishes
Gifted detritus
From the dead man’s piles of
Serendipity surrounds this
Sacred space for faerie grace

Brenda Warren 2017


Two Elevenies

1. Portrait

Projects worldview
Shiny bald head
A red-circled swastika

Consumes him
Confederacy, leather, guns
Running with white brethren

2. Resist

Becomes king
Trumpeting retaliatory tweets
While nothing gets done

Boosts buffoon’s
Body of power
His pundits beat drums

Don’t normalize
This scheming GOP
Distracting us from evil

Brenda Warren 2017


Evening’s Cool

The man says that
This is just the most repulsive thing
This laptop
Everything electronic that he touches
Is destroyed
He hates this fucking thing
Thing thing thing
It’s out to get him
To eat his spirit
To turn it into spit

Fuck it
Toss it
Dropkick it
Into the gravel drive
Thing thing thing

It deserves death
Rev up Sydney
Put her in reverse
Then forward
Thing thing thing
Die die die

From the porch
His dog looks at him sideways

Something about a laptop, obliterated
Washes satisfaction through the man
He laughs
How dare that thing
Betray his sensibility
Of how it ought to be

The dog sniffs at the remains
Of the laptop, lying there dead
It lifts its leg and looks up at the man

Together they walk through the village
Relishing evening’s cool

Brenda Warren 2017



On a still day
under all that is
you can hear
the universe hum.
Its voice
vibrates being
into alignment.

Through songs
that honor
self becomes sound.

Brenda Warren