Best Browned Poems

BROWNED-CENTS

One of the true ways 
to remain in captivity is to keep silent to avoid your captor’s 
hostility and confusion

A penny for my 
thoughts has...

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I watched it fall
In spiralling flight
This browned yellow leaf
A saddened sight

For not long ago
It was alive and so green
In a canopy of cover
Above the stream

I...

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On the Horizon

My limbs and leaves are trembling
My green days of shade and blue shadow near gone,
For on the near horizon lies
The first cold flail...

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I stand alone a barking tree, where silent sorrows of ripples flee,
No one hears my calamity, wearing weeps of my raped reality…
Branches droop to ice-cold...

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Lingering within

It sits upon my widow sill,
after all of this time,
the Magnolia bloom you sent
Wilted and shriveled,
once the purest white -
now browned with age
Yet what...

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The floor was carpeted with wonderful trees,
stomped and storm-clawed leaves
they arise again as specks of magic dust
fire starts from ash on the eyelashes
air-blazing amid the...

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Awaking blithe each morning,
with eyes upon the World,
I wonder, are we mourning
with ebon flags unfurled –
or are they but a warning,
some draped like snakes and...

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In our Asian-cum-Eastern land
No one prefers or admires
the dark-skinned or tanned

Gosh, as if the fair-skinned alone
belonged to the so-called fairer sex
And here, 'black is beauty'...

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Me a colored blind dreamer
My other senses honed
You ask
What can I know about color
I am told red is the color of passion
I feel the heat...

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Two poetic hydrangea mobiles ~ happy or sad, take your pick 

~
Weeping hydrangeas spill
sapphire tears falling,
drenching grey scale gardens
suspended, free flowing
a mobile of distractions
on tiny...

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Alone,
slicked with sweat,
and hearing the locusts’ cries 
deep in my neck,
I stood over the remains 
of Sal Paradise.
 
The spotty grass 
around the tombstone
was browned...

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As summer nights of listless warmth
	descend behind to the past,
fruits of spring hang heavy now,
	ripe, and are ready to cast …
The mornings bring forth a...

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From the mountain's peak; the wooden flutes sound
the lamas leap and the water falls-- clear,
mindful, the wind's play on the Quechua's ground. 

The majesty of...

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Her faint voice quietly sings

a cheerful love song

mixed in with the tapping sounds

of the falling water

 from inside the clear glass shower

The morning light illuminates...

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When flowers die, 
they die slowly-
edge by edge 
the petals curl,
still, silently, 
without complaint....

Unlike us,
cut flowers 
should be let go before 
the first tinge of...

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