The Promise and the Vow

Slowly down the rabbit's hole a promise went to hide,
behind it pushed a solemn vow burying them deep inside.

Therein the tunnel's eye, the world began to spin,
and so began a falling rain, deep and dark as sin.

Sanguineous the pelting drops, that fell upon the earth.
until a raging crimson flood, drowned hope....and love...and mirth.

Now but barren lands of ash, with chambers dry as bone,
the promise crept up towards the sky, from its solitary home.

Upon a glance of dust and desert, anguish crossed his face,
for eternal love had been the vow, who had disappeared without a trace.

I hope death is as quiet
as I imagine it. 
No mourners to and fro. 
No Dante,
no 9 circles of Hell, 
or creaking
across my soul.
Polite and purposeful
like a waitress filling my cup,
or a shiny beetle trekking across my lapel 
calculating with speech,
choosing her words
as though each
were expensive fruit
or a frail and brittle antique.
Graceful and elegant
devoid of riddles
precise and thoughtful, 
cognizant of time's reach
and slow, steady heartbeat.
Come quickly madame,
but stay only a while
cradling my head
as you peer in my eyes.
Hum your lullaby
and conjure your muse
as sleep descends
from starry skies.

By Brown

Le Poeme Parle

I was recently invited to recite some poetry, which I've only done a handful of times. The most memorable being at my high school graduation. It was not my best work, but it was poignant and fun. Ultimately, the words were emblazoned in the yearbook, with one grammatical error forever immortalized. C'est la vie.

I'm less inclined to share my poems these days, not because I fear judgment, I'm just hardly ever satisfied. I wonder if movie directors feel this way. I tend to toil, edit, and revise works that I've written years ago. An ungratifying pursuit really, like the covering of a tattoo who's meaning has changed...a bitter sweet and fleeting satisfaction. 

The invitation has me thinking about writing some poems intended solely for reciting. The thought of being able to infuse humor, facial expressions, and dramatic pause is tempting. These elements are lost when words are fettered to paper. When people read your poems, they don't always pause where you want them to, or pronounce a word just so. They conjure different worlds. My words merely a bridge to a place all their own. One in which only their imagination can take them. At times I wish I could go there.

Hearing my words floating through an eager coffee shop like the permeating, hypnotic aroma of a freshly made cappuccino would be magical. Casting a spell on caffeinated hipsters and baby boomers...enticing them not to construct their own worlds with the power of rhyme and metaphorical prose, but to take a ride with me instead. Trusting that while the destination is unknown, the journey would be worth the wait. Well.....at least devoid of grammatical errors.

I'm in the mood to share a poem with you. I hope you don't mind...

Eternal Love

Walk into the tomb my sweet
and fall upon my grave.
Fear not the statued sentries there,
who guard this hallowed cave.

Yet deeper through the dark abyss,
where whispers go off to die.
You’ll find me quietly waiting,
upon a bed of stone I lie.

These catacombs are winding,

chambers fraught with dreams and bone.

Carve softly your name upon the walls,

So I shall never rest alone.

By Brown

Has it really been a week?

It’s Haiku Wednesday bitches! Hmmm…I wonder if that configuration of words has ever existed prior to today…Forgive my elation; I was momentarily possessed by Eminem. Anyway, yall know what time it is...So, without further ado:

Today is Wednesday,

I had to be reminded.

Ginseng is costly.

Put down your phone or,

you will not enter my lane.

How quickly birds fly.

Just got a new phone.

I think I have arthritis.

I am appdicted.

I had tea with death.

The toll of knell rang softly.

Her black carriage waits.

Words are my one solace.

My mind is the soul’s canvas.

Paintings never cease.

Bonzai Daniel-san

Hey, it’s Haiku Wednesday! Well, okay, maybe I just made that up. Fine, maybe someone else suggested it, and then I created it. Does it really matter who in the  

Hey everyone, it’s Haiku Wednesday! I had this great idea come to me, and I thought I would share with you some Haiku. Nothing fancy….just something to put on the blog since I have people hounding affectionately reminding me to update it. I do have a few things in the works: short stories, poems, book reviews, and some random musings, however, I know how some of you like to intermittently hear my voice (and I suppose I should be more disciplined with writing everyday as well) I do not protest, I just don’t always like what my fingers type….I’m such a diva….or a perfectionist. I could be bipolar…I’ll take Haiku Wednesday for $200 Alex…

My dog is creepy.

He sits and stares at me.

I wish he could drive.

I love basketball.

My soul rejoices and sings.

My thumb is swollen.

The Rain is lovely.

Each drop fills my heart with joy.

The weatherman sucks.

The spider pulls close,

The corners of her device.

The prism deceives.

Raven and the moon,

Whisper deep into the night.
The wind's breath is cold.

Painted Black

More poetic dribble . . . .


PAINTED BLACK


A glance, a tilt, no softer wish.
I watch you paint it black,
I yearn to be that mystic fish,
Swimming -in your sea of black.

No idle stares nor summer cloth,
Deserve your heart’s attack.
Like sultry flames that seduce the moth,
You stare at mine, I stare right back.

A thousand skies of wasted hue,
Where rainbows never lack.
Your beauty ignites the phoenix new,
Our worlds collide, we fade to black

Lips of velvet kiss the door,
Where once there laid a crack.
Desire melts us to midnight’s floor,
Where I watch you paint me black.

by Brown

I Lost a World Today

Thought I'd share a poem I wrote a few days ago. . . for those of you still reading this dribble anyway. . . .

I Lost A World Today


I lost a world just today,
Has anybody seen?
It shone before -but no more,
No longer bright and sheen.

Upon its lips one winter kiss,
And one from shifting sands.
Upon its heart an Atlas weight,
Too bearing for my hands.

I lost a world just today,
Or perhaps I didn’t know.
Dreams do not belong to men,
Nor warmth for falling snow.


by Brown