Brent Gordon

Brent Gordon American poet from Pennsylvania. Spreading light for all to see with uplifting poetry.
(2)

11/03/2026
I’ve written of a love thatspans the ages,never hinting of the painthat turns its pages. ~B.G.
06/03/2026

I’ve written of a love that
spans the ages,
never hinting of the pain
that turns its pages.
~B.G.

SaveOver the years, as the hours have seemed to devour the moments and the weight of what once had been settles into the...
18/12/2025

Save

Over the years, as the hours have seemed to devour the moments and the weight of what once had been settles into the depths of a familiar home, I have found myself asking the stars to tell me of their pain; to tell me what it feels like to cross the expanse of time as nothing more than a memory, and to somehow spark a flame in a soul that had once taken on the same journey. It’s only in these moments that you get to know darkness in the eyes of a future that has yet to come, and only for me to know that this life is just a memory to those who have laid eyes upon me and felt the river that flows from my weary soul.

You’ve come to me
from beyond the words of faith,
and on the clearest nights,
I pray it’s me you’ve come to save.
~B.G.

So to SpeakI have never been a man of many words,and even now these ones you readare just a version of me,like a message...
30/11/2025

So to Speak

I have never been a man of many words,
and even now these ones you read
are just a version of me,
like a message in a bottle caught in the tides,
never to be seen,
drifting on the whim of forgotten seas.

A dilemma lost to time, so to speak.

I could say a million truths
each night in my dreams,
but in the morning rays of the sun
I wake still asleep,
the weight of all the words
left chained to my feet,
the ones meant for all the men
I have yet to be.
~B.G.

Fire on the Mountain There’s a fire on the mountain, one that an ocean couldn’t quell, a fire on the mountain that stole...
30/11/2025

Fire on the Mountain

There’s a fire on the mountain, one that an ocean couldn’t quell, a fire on the mountain that stole the breath from the truth it tells. It started as a whisper on the splinter of a lie, burrowing straight to the heart of temptation, knowing our faith would be blind. The embers rain down as warnings, and the smoke fills our lungs. There’s a fire on the mountain, and no truth left on our tongues.
~B.G.


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