Love me father for I have sinned Love me for my teary eyed tragedies Love me mother for I have misrepresented Love me for my emerald skin
Drowning in my identity
Love me fireflies for I have wept in the dark Love me for I have crippled my vitality Love me acquaintances for my tainted tongue Love me for my abandoned flames
Soaking in a lost curse
Love me companion for I have misplaced love Love me for I have spoken to my villain Love me obscurity for I have been misguided Love me for I have crawled in my dismay
my ice skates on a wall
lustre of stumps washes his lavander horizon
he’s got a handsome face of a lousy kid
rooming-houses dirty fingers
whistled in the shadow
“Wait for me at the detour.”
river… snow… some one vague faded in a mirror
filigree of trade winds
clouds white as lace circling the pepper trees
the film is finished
memory died when their photos weather-worn points of
polluted water under the trees in the mist shadow of
boys by the daybreak in the peony fields cold lost
marbles in the room carnations three ampoules of
morphine little blue-eyes-twilight grins between his
legs yellow fingers blue stars erect boys of sleep
have frozen dreams for I am a teenager pass it on
flesh and bones withheld too long yes sir oui oui
Crapps’ last map… lake… a canoe… rose tornado in
the harvest brass echo tropical jeers from Panama
City night fences dead fingers you are in your own body
around and maybe a boy skin spreads to something
else on Long Island the dogs are quiet.
Sweet little darling Sipping tea from her cup Deep thoughts on her rocking chair Nose stuck in a Dickinson book Style in her fingertips Turning page after page Wrapped up in forever Coddling lukewarm memories Counting grandchildren and lost ones Guided by an inward candle Unforgettable and refreshing
I read this book in paperback. This is a unsolicited review.
What I Loved: Braeden Michaels is another one of my favorite poets. He is a master at creating imagery with his varied and vivid lines. Somehow he combines these images to create a scene and that scene, if we allow it, gives us a view deeper into our own humanity.
He writes with such depth and his lines make you really think about who we are as humans and our place in this world, our emotions, and our different perspectives. I find that I can read nearly every piece over and over, each time walking away with more meaning than the time before.
I also appreciate his creativity and his titles are dynamite. Things like “Coughing Up a Smirk”, “Psychobabble”, “Tangled Snowflake”, “Marmalade Boots”, and “The Blush Vertebrae”… how does he come up with these names??
I didn’t find a single grammatical error or misspelling and that made me very happy (because if you know me at all, it is that those are pet-peeves of mine). Also, the paperback quality was very good. A nice size in your hand, great overall length, and the front cover art for me was great.
What I Didn’t: I honestly have nothing negative to say about this book. It now happily sits on my shelf to be read again and again.
My Overall Score: 5 stars – This book is exactly what I want from a book of poetry. Excellent length, quality writing, professional and engaging cover. Worth every penny and minute invested.
Highly recommended for those who enjoy unique modern poetry that makes you think and feel.
Check out where “The Raven’s Poison” is available! The review can be found on Amazon.
Under her breath she uttered “Life is as beautiful as a forehead kiss” Joy dances like a ballerina on her spellbinding tongue She squeezed tea parties with her doll Delilah with her artistry Quietly adoring her childhood books on the shelf from the tallest to the shortest She painted love with the ocean with her steady hand on her prized canvas Gazing at her innocent imagination Memorized the pattern and pastel colors of her quilt In a whisper she mumbled “Beauty is inside, not in the eye of the beholder” Climbing inside her mellow perception She glided across the beige carpet with an ornament of a smile A sphere filled with crayons, lite bright, easy bake oven, and ballroom dresses Cherishing the extraordinary recollection, Embracing the collage of photographs in her heart Drops fall to the floor as she glances at a hollow room on Wildfire Lane
