O-U

 O-U

How to pronounce O...U

when you two are together?

How is it?

Bounce.

Pounce.

Trounce.

O-U,

you troublesome vowel.

Don't make me howl.

How is it?

Count.

Mount.

Amount.

O-U,

you make me want to shout.

I can't quite make you out.

How is it?

Grouse.

Louse.

Mouse.

Or is it?

Mousse.

Moose.

Nous.

O-U,

you can be so confounding,

when not corresponding.

How is it?

Dudes

play ouds,

yet with and without 

o and u.

O-U,

why are o and u

so proud?

You are all around,

making different sounds.

O-U,

please, please,

no more oos and aws!!!

I O-U nothing

for this drivel.

© Breyel, Timm. "O-U". 2026. All rights reserved.  No part of this text may be copied, broadcast, reproduced in print or electronically represented without permission from the author.

THE GARDENER

THE GARDENER

Gardens and groves

and vineyards,

above and below him, grew.

It was only natural.

Not only was the earth

under his fingernails, 

it was in his DNA.

Generations before him

were bauern 

from Baden,

Liechtenstein,

and Schleswig-Holstein.

© Breyel, Timm. "The Gardener". All rights reserved.  No part of this text may be copied, broadcast, reproduced in print or electronically represented without permission from the author.

METHINKS

METHINKS

Methinks 

I am an actor 

who plays to an audience of one -- 

myself. 

And at times 

that's a tough act 

to follow.

© Breyel, Timm. "Methinks". All rights reserved.  No part of this text may be copied, broadcast, reproduced in print or electronically represented without permission from the author.

OLD POSTCARDS

 OLD POSTCARDS

Tattered and faded

picture postcards

of nameless maidens,

and forgotten lands

set in exotic climes

and idyllic villages,

all framed in an age

when colonialism, 

royalty and wars

reigned supreme.

Cursive impressions,

indigo inked

and penciled,

tell stories

of feluccas on the Nile,

Michaelangelo in the Sistine,

moonlit Balinese beaches,

trekking Machu Picchu,

homesick French soldiers.

Shared testimonials, all,

these timeworn paper tales

for a shilling or more.

Colourfully stamped 

with squares,

rectangles,

triangles,

etched images 

of Queen Victoria,

Belgian missionaries,

Honai huts,

kangaroos,

edelweiss,

biplanes,

and countless wonders of the world,

all postmarked from a bygone age.

Neither snow nor rain 

nor heat nor gloom of night 

stayed the Orient Express,

Special Delivery,

Zeppelin Luftpost,

or Boat Mail.

Horseman, 

footman,

bicycle courier,

all kept their appointed 

destination.

As I read the words,

I hear the voices

of friends, 

of loved ones,

of acquaintances.

I imagine these picture postcards

when they reached the letterbox.

What joy,

what excitement,

what incredible news,

each card must have sparked

when remembered by one

who shared thoughts

and feelings from faraway. 

© Breyel, Timm. "Old Postcards". All rights reserved.  No part of this text may be copied, broadcast, reproduced in print or electronically represented without permission from the author.

RUBICON

The Rubicon is crossed
and the law is no longer sacrosanct.
Will the Republic ever return
to the land it once knew?
Or will it flow blood red
like the river of old?

© Breyel, Timm. "Rubicon". All rights reserved.  No part of this text may be copied, broadcast, reproduced in print or electronically represented without permission from the author.

POLITICAL OPIATES

POLITICAL OPIATES

The promises, half truths and lies of politicians are the opiates the masses crave when they are either ignorant of the facts, desperate, insecure and/or afraid. 

Their quick fix feels good only until it wears off and the sobriety of truth reveals itself. 

Unfortunately, rehabilitation eludes those addicted to the pipe dream of these dealers.

© Breyel, Timm. "Political Opiates". All rights reserved.  No part of this text may be copied, broadcast, reproduced in print or electronically represented without permission from the author.

SOJOURNER

 SOJOURNER

I've been told

I crawled out of the house,

when I was about nine months old,

leaving my mother unaware.

I snagged my cotton diaper

on a barbed fence

and kept on crawling unhampered,

naked to the world.

Had it not been for a neighbour calling my mom,

an unfavourable

path might have led me elsewhere.

Nothing much has changed since.

I'm still wandering,

through one obstacle or another,

and have kept on going.

Whenever I have strayed,

friends and strangers alike

have guided me unscathed

back to my home.

© Breyel, Timm. "Sojourner". All rights reserved.  No part of this text may be copied, broadcast, reproduced in print or electronically represented without permission from the author.