Short Browne Poems

W E Barrington-Browne
painted rural landscapes& not the town
Famed for his 'Immortal Trout'
a watercolour well worth a 'shout'...

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She reads Dave Berg and E.B. White,
John Ciardi and Henry Leigh –
My eight-year-old prodigy.

She sings Ray Charles and Jackson Browne,
Benatar and Robin Lane.
Her confidence will never wane.

She loves writing and drawing,
Painting and dance.
I’m proud to be her provenance....

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Belly up to the bar, boys
Let's have another round
And bid a fond farewell
To our old friend Johnnie Browne
 
Johnnie was a tootin' lad
With a heart o' gold
He'll be missed, you can bet
May God rest his soul
 
We'll leave his mug on the bar
Just in case some day
Johnnie wakes with a mighty thirst
And happens back  this way...

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I have often felt like my life as no meaning,
Why was I here,
Was it to be a burden on my family,
I feel that's why I push them away,
I know longer call them to see if their are okay,
Maybe because they showed no reason to care,
Things I once loved.
are now just a brutal curse.
Why do I walk apon this earth.


Written by Davina Browne
12/10/15...

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There's a place that I call home,
it's where all my memories Rome, 
the door frame even has nooks,
from where my mum watched us grow,
over the years and I can't believe,
I'm still the same height has I was when I was 13,
I no longer live with my mum for I have my own home,
but really there's no place like home.





Written by Davina Browne
25/01/2015...

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she's very talented with words,
the words she writes expresses emotions,
some poets find hard to write,

she feels the pain in some poems,
written in their darkest moments,

she's a seer,
she saw the images,
I was portraying in my poems,
she's a keeper,
a friend,
a poet to the end,


written by Davina browne,
31/01/15
 for contest write a poem,
held by Judy Konos...

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My Muse
he came to me in body form,
his presents was unknown,
to gift to me his creativity,
of verse, knowledge and love,
he became my one true focus,

my muse would often visit in my time of need,
he would often say,
to cry it was just me releasing the sad,
of built up emotions all humans had,
that tears wasn't my weakness,
it was what made me strong,
the knowledge of feelings,
in this created world,
was not wrong.


written by Davina Browne
on the 24/01/2015...

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The concert, a singer who’s great,
Is all set for a not-too-far date.
I am sure that the show
Will be wonderful, though
It won’t start until sometime past 8.

Since I often wake up around 5,
By the time Jackson Browne did arrive,
It would be no surprise
If the lids of my eyes
Would be closed with no chance to revive.

So most likely, I’ll pass on the tix,
Though it’s something I’m sorry to nix
But my energy tank
Isn’t shrinking – it shrank!
Sadly, aging and night life don’t mix....

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