Brian Dan Christensen

Brian Dan Christensen is a writer and translator.

Homepage: https://briandanchristensen.wordpress.com

Elements of Style

I don’t use emoticons
Or exclamation marks
And I don’t capitalize words
To make them brawl and bark
I use italics sparingly
Like fish sauce or Danish Blue
Lest my paragraphs become
Potpourris or cheese fondue.
 

Language is like music
With precision, grace and mojo
Exaggeration makes the world
Pocket-sized and so-so
From Shakespeare to Updike
They never needed an air hammer
The real power-tool for the job
Is a little thing called grammar.

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Prayer

I pray, dear Lord,
To draft and scribble
Until the day You say, “Quit!”

And summon me to
The main library halls
To reassess my writ

Oh, let my work
(Wherein I praise Your creation)
Find grace when your angels read it

And let not St. Peter
That grouchy librarian
Stamp it A WASTE OF SQUID

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Small Poem Filled With Hope, Rain and Biblical References

In New York
It’s raining
Cats and dogs

But it could be
Exodus 8
And frogs.

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Limerick of Grass

There was a writer named Günter Grass
Who knew all about der, die und das
His ethics and morals
Won prices and laurels
As he spent a lifetime rewriting his past.

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Twelve Bar Blues

Feed the cat
Feed the birds
Glance at poem
Change a word
 
Boil some water
Grind some beans
Brush your teeth
By all means
 
Turn the dial
Morning news
Lover’s kiss
Twelve bar blues

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As The World Kept Falling Apart

As the world kept falling apart
And I had no words of solace to offer
I went to buy roses for my lady

I passed houses being demolished
Houses being built
I crossed bridges of steel
Rivers of ice

And while it was cold
And hostility hung in the air
Like a breath withheld

The bouquet resting in my arms
Turned into a shield of humanity
And then back into roses

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Another Old Christmas (Howard Walker’s Christmas Song)

I’d be such as terrific guest at your house
You don’t have to comb your hair
I’d bring a quart of Old Crow, chocolate for your kids
I’d even bring my own folding chair
And I’d sit by your table, no, I won’t stare at you
That tree sure is decked out in style
And if I don’t make it this time around
I might be there in a while.

I’d be such as terrific guest at your house
Say, who painted that painting over there?
I like what your husband did to the floors
Oh, that fire burns so warm and clear
The smell in this kitchen brings back memories
The apron my mother used to wear
Well, if I’m not there before darkness falls
I might have gotten hung up somewhere.

I’d be such a terrific guest at your house
My cousin has this old Chevrolet
That dress looks exactly the same on you
As it did at Half Moon Bay
No, I didn’t get your letter, no, Jack passed away
I see they’re building a new road through town
The shadows are long, we might see some snow
But you might not see me around.

I’d be such as terrific guest at your house
This Christmas I’ll bring you a book
And sit by the piano and hum a few tunes
If I cry, pretend not to look
Well, here comes the jailer, it’s time for lights out
I‘ll finish this letter some time soon
It’s another old Christmas for me without you
But at midnight, let’s both look at the moon.

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Hobo’s Lullaby

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Thanksgiving Limerick

The Europeans followed Hernán Cortés
And made a new world of freedom and show biz
Oh, that sweet American thing
Where thanks we give and bring
And remind turkeys of La Révolution Française

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Umbrella

Umbrella

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