Brett Moore : Writing

The Lake House

The Lake House

A Poem by Brett Moore


Look at this dappled white roadreflecting a tired sun.A shimmering, coruscated bridge connecting shorelinesto where I sit, reflecting. Is it a highw..
Crisis Faith

Crisis Faith

A Poem by Brett Moore


In retrospect,our civilizationcan be botheredto bended kneeby circumstance.Why not divinity?Your god shinesbrightest in the gardenof man, only sometim..
Picking Bones.

Picking Bones.

A Poem by Brett Moore


It's expected, says the data. That corporate pocket watch plays catchy jingles to all these smug,commercialized independents. Idling, self abso..
Dueling Egos

Dueling Egos

A Poem by Brett Moore


For me, this is a rare rhyming poem. Spoken word because it has a cadence. Almost like a rap but I'll stay in my lane.
The Bum King

The Bum King

A Poem by Brett Moore


Bum King is a loser in a winner’s car.He’s hard to see in the bright city.You can lose him in the wild weavingbetween the golden glow of s..
A Love Note

A Love Note

A Poem by Brett Moore


My voice doesn't sound like it should when I hear it out loud, but I shed a tear when I wrote these words. And if that doesn’t do you justice, w..
I Am

I Am

A Poem by Brett Moore


I own a little shop in town.Money comes. Money goesto the bank, I am told.It’s all fools gold.I own a little piece of land.Reap the crops. Work ..
Broad Street Blues

Broad Street Blues

A Poem by Brett Moore


Watching life through the window Past the fence post in the yard Stuck under heavy feelings Really living is too hard Doing circles in my past lif..
Reflecting

Reflecting

A Poem by Brett Moore


I live halfway down on my knees gazing up at a smattering of chaos, swearing that I used to believe that swirling gas was divine.Where did all that ma..
If my memory serves me

If my memory serves me

A Poem by Brett Moore


I remember a chipped concrete causeway,baron but for beggars and trash,with lurching wallspressed apartby the devil’s outstretched arms,glowing ..