Sample Poems by David Breeden

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Hope, Nearly Not There


There’s no package called hope.
Nothing at a shop to look for. Hope
won’t store like hay in a barn. It is a

last leaf on a branch in deep winter.
It is a singular thing, firm when it’s
found—a hand reached out. A word

to the marrow. Hope is fine grained,
like lavender gone to seed. Gossamer,
a moth’s wings. There’s no weight

called hope. It’s a hand; a whisper;
a moment shared. Nearly not there.
But. like a shadow, there all the same.

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Leaving Is What I Know


Here's the thing
I made that train

The one that took
Me away from there

Look into my eyes
You see the distance

Just look and you
Can see I'm gone

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The Road Always Taken


Most of us have a road
that we imagine, yes?
A road out, unforgiving.

A road away, into loss.
A road that we travel,
willingly or not; a road

that time paves; a road
that we have travelled
many times in thought.

A road out. A road away.
A road we had to travel.
A road of regret and loss.

And freedom, remember.

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My Closet Asks


All these years,
I’ve had them—

rolled up tee shirts
for one cause

and another.

All those years,
I lived for them—

I know I did—
my closet says so.

My closet asks
—when will I be

boxing them?

When will I be out
of this place too?

When again will
I have one cause

or another.