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Ruby Brown Poem
It is seen, but unpredictable -> Like lightening, it can never be touched until it has
stricken, when the mind settles its anticipation, but the heart is burned to the core.
It severs, it wounds, it rebuilds; yet somehow, it gives the gears the power to move and
it has the strength, now, for its purpose…but the machine refuses to budge; why?
And so it stands, powerful without power, willful without will, a useless thing without
purpose, though it burns in the rapidly turning wheels within it. The light shines
beautifully and everywhere, but it is motionless and a shadow far longer than its being
stretches through the floor. It screams “What do you want? Take it!”
A silent voice cries, “Come!” and the figure moves, unable to disobey. And as it moves,
each part of the shadow grows another head, another thought, another voice, until it is a
thousand in one, with a booming cry-> They scream, “What do you want? Take it!”
But it is not the power of a thousand inward shadows that forces the figure forward.
Eyes downcast and body stiff, it follows the voice, not willing to take notice of anything
but its beauty, its ugliness, its weakness, and its strength. And it is a twisted thing.
Yet when the voice leaves, it echoes against the invisible shield placed around the being.
So it is alone, and without a master, the rusted gears turn left, and finally, it takes in
the air and tilts her head towards the sun that stands at its highest point. And its
swollen throat croaks, “Why?” and she turns away.
Copyright © Ruby Brown | Year Posted 2009
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Ruby Brown Poem
Let my hand tremble in the light. Am I whole, shaking in this warmth that shadows
out of the darkness?
Have I looked upon the shadows and longed for its silenced cold? Have I left the
garden of life’s valleys, to enter the world of thickened air and false horizons?
Where have all my lovely lilies gone, if not scattered through the darkness by
the wind?
The petals that carried my dreams and hopes, have they been swallowed by the fitful
wisher? No; I have moved my eyes, and let them fall to the grounds of the shadows in the
alley, always within my reach, but my stilled hand will never grasp them in the cold. Let
them root in the shadows of my mind’s alley – sinking into the cracks of the stones I have
placed, to grow like weeds among the walls of my reality.
Copyright © Ruby Brown | Year Posted 2009
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Ruby Brown Poem
The grasp is choking, hard, and cruel
The roofs are limited yet wide. I am the servant to this place.
Her burning gaze sears through my eyes.
“You shall despise this house.”
Never to return to here. This foundation built on itself.
Raised to sky with other hands, with elements of life.
Another breath - two more to hear, a shriek that is my name
And to the gaze I whisper softly,
“I shall despise this house.”
I am the builder of this place.
With arms held up by strings. My eyes waver across the fleeting ground.
Trembling as I see. The whole of the world moves through me in blurs,
When its distinct colors form to light. With clutched fingers on the rails, they make
My ears ring from the sound. I await the end on the last stair.
And I despise this house
Copyright © Ruby Brown | Year Posted 2009
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Details |
Ruby Brown Poem
My eyes, that which has betrayed me the most, look up toward you, my shining moon, in the
sky. Frozen in place, I look to you for guidance, finding your arms held out to me in that
cruel gesture. I will not take it, for your fingers will never close around my shaking
ones, and I will never find your smile as kind as I did the first time.
It is like looking at the sun, only to find it harsher with each dimming glance until I
am blind.
How hard it is, to stand within the moving tides that pull towards you, all running to
your hand and falling through the gaps between, returning to itself as whole as it will
ever be, save for the drops that lovingly slide down your wrists.
With locked gazes, I can not help but wonder who you are looking at, if it is to me or
the ones around me, I will never know, but for now, I will follow the sinking waters to
your grasp, but I shall keep my hand reached towards the burning sun, and I will take
neither.
Copyright © Ruby Brown | Year Posted 2009
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