Recently, people have been seeing more and more poems by Brian Rihlmann on Facebook. Here are a few more! These poems are striking in their simplicity and resonance.
A YOUNGER VERSION
inside an oval frame
that hangs dustless
and polished
on the wall
of his mother’s house
a smooth cheeked
younger version
bloomed with angst
amidst a thicket
of familial smiles
the eyes blazed
with dark fire
the jaw was set
against the punches
he knew were coming
SURVIVOR
on a chilly October evening
a lone dandelion
gone to seed
stands in the midst
of a green field
its puffy head
having somehow
survived the whirling blades
of a recent mowing
it stands stiffly tall
a white haired old man
awaiting immortality
in a gust of wind
or a child’s wish
a lone dandelion
gone to seed
stands in the midst
of a green field
its puffy head
having somehow
survived the whirling blades
of a recent mowing
it stands stiffly tall
a white haired old man
awaiting immortality
in a gust of wind
or a child’s wish
 |
| Photograph from K-State Research and Extension |
ODE TO THE DISCARDED
While sitting on the curb,
I see a rusty old bolt
laying on the pavement.
I pick it up,
turn it and feel
its heft,
its cold edges,
my fingers
now stained orange.
I run fingertips
over threads
still sharp,
not stripped.
It once held
something together,
and still could.
I see a rusty old bolt
laying on the pavement.
I pick it up,
turn it and feel
its heft,
its cold edges,
my fingers
now stained orange.
I run fingertips
over threads
still sharp,
not stripped.
It once held
something together,
and still could.
TOLD YOU
This song is billed as a Motown version of a song by
My Chemical Romance:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YWO1wtdJ0UM
I sometimes still
hold out my hand
to those who laugh
like hyenas
who smile like wolves
with bloody canines
and then draw back
a stump
shocked, but smiling
as I mock the mirror me
and say “I told you....”
 |
| Photograph by Steen Jepsen |
CAUGHT IN THE GROOVE
A bright summer's day
trapped outside my window.
I peer from under blankets,
as a love song echoes
in my mind.
Notes drift through
shadows shifting
on the walls,
a sad melody,
the needle caught
in the groove.
I roll in twisted sheets
stare at the ceiling
then shut my eyes,
sleep off the day's music
like a hangover.
But each time I wake,
notes wash over me,
again,
like your ghost.
You're not dead,
but lost
in a time I cannot grasp,
or understand,
a time I was loved.
----------------------------------------------------------
trapped outside my window.
I peer from under blankets,
as a love song echoes
in my mind.
Notes drift through
shadows shifting
on the walls,
a sad melody,
the needle caught
in the groove.
I roll in twisted sheets
stare at the ceiling
then shut my eyes,
sleep off the day's music
like a hangover.
But each time I wake,
notes wash over me,
again,
like your ghost.
You're not dead,
but lost
in a time I cannot grasp,
or understand,
a time I was loved.
----------------------------------------------------------
Brian's last poem put me in mind of Eddie Reddick's cover
of The Temptations' "I Wish It Would Rain":
Here is saxophonist Mark Maxwell's version of
"Just My Imagination":
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZlpuTz4qQI
"Just My Imagination":
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZlpuTz4qQI
This song is billed as a Motown version of a song by
My Chemical Romance:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YWO1wtdJ0UM