Poems from Patrick Brett
For we were trapped in the faceless conformity, of a place that we are foreign to.
The feeling of being lost overwhelms us, as though we...
I was eight when I realized the truth and the harm;
I saw it on my teacher’s face; the pity and alarm.
They examined my body, outraged by...
When the land was perceived as new, and owned by the British,
With barely a road, the people still skittish.
There was a land in...
I watch the old house all day and night;
I keep my vigil, never leaving my sight.
The oak they call me; the oak I may be,
But from birth...
This is the tale of man in his boat;
So worn, so tattered, barely stayed afloat.
Late in the evening, no luck on his side,
He came into...