It Comes
written by: R. Bremner
It comes.
It comes every day, every morning, afternoon, and night.
It doesn’t bother to knock at our door,
It slips in unnoticed.
It finds us
Sitting in chairs, chatting
Working on the car, together
Shooting hoops with buddies
Enjoying a rousing music concert
Riding a jampacked train or bus or plane
It finds us
And silently does its best
To do its worst to us
And we can only hope
Or pray
That it will tire of its joyless mirth
And leave us forever
R. Bremner writes of incense, peppermints, and the color of time in such venues as International Poetry Review, Anthem: a Leonard Cohen Tribute Anthology, Poets Online, Jerry Jazz Musician, Paterson Poetry Review, Yellow Chair Review, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Peacock Journal, Oleander Review, Shot Glass Journal, Climate of Change: Sigmund Freud in Poetry, and others. He appeared in 1979’s first issue of Passaic Review, in which Allen Ginsberg also appeared. Ron has published six books of poetry with “outlaw” and small presses, including ABSURD (Cajun Mutt Press), and created 13 eBooks. He has thrice won Honorable Mention in the Allen Ginsberg awards. He has featured at the Bowery Poetry Club in New York’s East Village, and at the ANT Bookstore, Montclair Library, Paterson Poetry Festival, Paterson Library, Gallery U, Brownstone Poets, Creativity Caravan, and elsewhere. Ron lives in Northeast New Jersey with his beautiful sociologist wife, their son, and dog Ariel.
Latest posts by R. Bremner (see all)
- This Christmas Eve Snow - December 24, 2021
- Nightmare #49 (Nubile ghosts dance wild and free) - December 3, 2020
- Nightmare #45 - October 22, 2020
