Long Deep brown Poems

Identity Apples

iam a fat skeleton, resurrecting 
from the sad memories of dada 
and dark mysteries of aminism 
iam buganda 
i bleed hope 
i drip the honey of fortune 
makerere, think tank of africa 
i dance...

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I could see the sun rising in the East
Pulling up something that is very deep
I could see the sun rising in the East
Hanging over the first beach
I left the house at six am
Before the sound...

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A traveler dwelling among refreshing springs
The busied day was drawing a close
Evening dishes clamored loudly to sing
Outside my door a whipping wind blows

Working to rest a goodnight rest
Again I hear that whipping wind that blows
But...

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Paddy

His name is Padraig Torrin McWheaten of County Cork, esq. – Paddy for short!  He is Celtic mischief with deep brown eyes the color of Irish sod, a big, black gumdrop nose and a...

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Dancing at the disco I espy the woman of my dreams
Wearing a lavender basque top and painted on jeans
Her smile is so dazzling there is nothing to compare
I can’t help feeling I know her from...

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BEAUTY: 
I step into the room,
Crowded
Boiling over with noise
A crescendo of laughter
Laughter I cannot join in on
People, faces I do not know
I feel shy, embarrassed
Did I dress well today?
Who knows?
I move around, I do what...

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Earlier in the week I was pretty sick and Peter was pampering me. One night, as Peter was taking away my tea tray, I took a selfie to send to my mom - as proof...

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a wealthy young man ,son of a cloth merchant man!
handsome deep brown eyes and dark brown hair!
singing sweet melodies breathing fresh air!
young and free rich as can be!
living the pleasures of life,
a bachelor not owning...

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A Father Clock chimes from a wall in the dining room, refreshing the idle couple that waited.
It was not as if they were reminded of some pressing appointment or some devoted chores that was delegated.
The...

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My name is Spencer Byron.
My first wife Addy died tragically in 1991.
A devotee of surprise. She was so much fun.

The breadth of love is unchartered territory.
Not all loves can be explained.
There are many aspects of...

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I noticed her limp immediately
when she sat next to me on the bench
in the park outside of the Prado.
I inquired about her deep brown eyes
behind her octagonal glasses
that looked sad and defeated.
“I was robbed here...

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A rose that looks like sunshine,
Bright, but soft, butter yellow, with an edgy crimson outline,
floated in a vase alongside soft splatterings of Baby's Breath.

'Twas a gift.
It lived on the dresser;
my dresser in front of my...

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It was late that night, his parents told him no
But out the window he still did go
The clock it read 12am, but he left anyways on a certain whim
His hair was dark, eyes deep brown
Never...

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Orphaned footsteps round the old place.
Pitch black soil, packed deep with bartered
coin and Indian heads – wood and otherwise,

coat her worn leather shoes, Hutterite chic. 
The long land screams within its own silence.
Prairie sage burns...

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He wore a cloth white shirt accompanied 
by a leather vest 
with brown, baggy trousers full of dirt 
tucked into rugged boots for best fit.
Deep, brown eyes and delectable pouty lips,
hidden under new morning scruff,
brush...

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in the midst of a lush meadow
there stands an impressive sight
a slip of a girl on a giant white horse
poised on the verge of flight

poetic in their beauty
they begin to move
and they appear as one
from...

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There she was…
Walking through the corridors and into his room…
Breathtakingly gorgeous like his mother’s garden of roses.
Her scent soothes him during the sad days of winter.
Believe it or not, she has broken his heart many...

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she, who in a moment of self-realization,
looked in the mirror & saw that the lips that she
was shuffled accidentally by evolution
(just as you got big feet & the next got deep brown eyes)
were not up...

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The cracker crisp Maine air 
rang with the rooster’s revel.
Moving day, time to clean the hens shed.
Monstrous three story hatchery,
thousands of burnt umber; beauties a laying.

Lace edged bobby socks, red Keds, barrettes, T-shirt and short;
and...

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(A lone voice whispers)

It's early morning as I stand here in our old bedroom 

Listening to my old friends the robins, blackbirds, and thrushes 

The twitterings, tweeting and chirps of wild birds

That now live in...

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Today I sit silently still…love ill
I watch raindrops drip from hanging leaves,
weaved clouds change colours of pink and gray
while a stray drop tumbling finds my fingertips
as if nature’s lips have kissed my skin.
I breathe in...

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THE NIGHTMARE SLEEPS

saliva drips off perfect white,
gleaming white, false fangs.

blood would fill, his full moon night.
breathless he sleeps,
bone-straight, crossed arms.
deep-brown rings on antique-satin.

his nightmares fly, only by night,
as the living dread his piercing sight.

their feet...

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Her face tawny and weathered
Is richer than the earth of a thousand years
With flowing furrowed lines of contented history
That are written deeply at each union, worn like a scar
She lifts her native face to compose...

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Anti-Poem – “At The Hollywood Plaza With Eddie And Dolores”

(Poet’s Instruction – Kindly play “You Can’t Be True, Dear,” by Ken Griffin, 1946, while reading).

she be smelling mighty good my dolores
she be my mexican chick...

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A FADING PROFESSOR ON A
FEBRUARY FRIDAY

On a cold, gray day
that made cold and gray
synonymous with abyss, 
she came to his office with
two new drawings that advanced
her thesis about ecological design
in a coastal Canadian city
She had...

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