Poems by Benjamin Bradley
“Bull Fight”
By Benjamin Bradley
In a dizzy whirl turning here beside the ceremonious dancing girls
spears in his side and armored horses circling round
the conquered bull who began life in a square pen
ends it in this shape, a circular arena.
The final act a gentle decrescendo,
from swagger and run
to staggering
to limping
to falling
to fallen
to still.
“To Descartes”
By Benjamin Bradley
Infinite entreaties and woos of
the sacrosanct turning of time;
the flowering, flowing and flaming
by which deeds become ennobled
as a gentle rill of water
is trained.
All the outpourings of love,
all that is dead and living-
world, being and sentience-
nothing new or old or otherwise
contemptable. But plain and clear.
How darest thou
cleave that which is whole
and should so remain
with infirm machinations!
Oh thou, spirited hypocrite,
claymoulded from the garden’s earth
thou hast thine provenance forsaken.
“Holiday”
By Benjamin Bradley
A hecatomb in human bodies entombed:
four days thawing, three hours roasting, a half hour eating,
deglutinating, digesting.
To whom is this burnt offering,
grander than Greece,
more sumptuous than Babylon,
more scandalous than Tenochtitlan,
to whom but any god,
except the god of the guts?
- Benjamin Bradley was born in Charleston, West Virginia, USA. He graduated from West Virginia University with a degree in World Languages in 2019. Since then, he has worked at various odd jobs and on organic farms while he has striven to improve his writing abilities and expand his literary knowledge.
By Benjamin Bradley
In a dizzy whirl turning here beside the ceremonious dancing girls
spears in his side and armored horses circling round
the conquered bull who began life in a square pen
ends it in this shape, a circular arena.
The final act a gentle decrescendo,
from swagger and run
to staggering
to limping
to falling
to fallen
to still.
“To Descartes”
By Benjamin Bradley
Infinite entreaties and woos of
the sacrosanct turning of time;
the flowering, flowing and flaming
by which deeds become ennobled
as a gentle rill of water
is trained.
All the outpourings of love,
all that is dead and living-
world, being and sentience-
nothing new or old or otherwise
contemptable. But plain and clear.
How darest thou
cleave that which is whole
and should so remain
with infirm machinations!
Oh thou, spirited hypocrite,
claymoulded from the garden’s earth
thou hast thine provenance forsaken.
“Holiday”
By Benjamin Bradley
A hecatomb in human bodies entombed:
four days thawing, three hours roasting, a half hour eating,
deglutinating, digesting.
To whom is this burnt offering,
grander than Greece,
more sumptuous than Babylon,
more scandalous than Tenochtitlan,
to whom but any god,
except the god of the guts?
- Benjamin Bradley was born in Charleston, West Virginia, USA. He graduated from West Virginia University with a degree in World Languages in 2019. Since then, he has worked at various odd jobs and on organic farms while he has striven to improve his writing abilities and expand his literary knowledge.
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Bradley. All Rights Reserved.