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Shane Brown Poem
I recovered haste
As I made way in a sepia wood
Far fatigued limbs
Taking me as far as fear could.
Winter held captive a brook
Bonded by white and gray
I had the desire for escape,
Yet an honesty to stay.
Could this be death, thought I,
Amongst this frozen nature?
Pausing again in the cold
That held me in unmoved stature.
Another damaging glance
For my conscience to alleviate
And I became an element
Of the black waters of fate.
And there, was my fragile life-
So oddly replaced.
No haven from my desperation,
No salvation of grace.
Copyright © Shane Brown | Year Posted 2011
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Shane Brown Poem
Where is the hope in the stars?
Tonight they shine not in celestial glory.
I must find them in my grief,
Those traditions of lost allegory.
Life was never so intense
Too easily cast away from the body
So have we been tossed aside;
Left behind without amnesty?
Tears have no shelter here;
That pointless overflow of our true hearts.
They can never last on our skin,
As consequence for life departs.
Death is a powerful soul;
A choral softly uttered by night-
Sung to the setting sun,
Perilous to its unfounded might.
Copyright © Shane Brown | Year Posted 2011
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Shane Brown Poem
I am not what is seen
I hold in the deeper things
My heart holds his strong lock and key
And pitiful regret chiefly sings.
The sun is yet to be realized
And the moon is only a shadow
I am what night constructs
In the stolen hope of a broken tomorrow.
I fight and I toss into calamity
Realized emotions that go untamed
My soul sown together in ugly fashion
And left unnamed.
What is all of this for?
With only empty worth
I look into the torn open sky
For new idea’s birth.
I will strongly await my delivery of peace
And I may learn how to be scrupulous.
The risk upon an independent prayer
Does so yield a soul renewed and victorious.
Copyright © Shane Brown | Year Posted 2011
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Shane Brown Poem
She saw herself alone
Cast out in weary abandonment.
Upon the sweet bosom of dawn;
Lied there, a dream of her contentment.
The thicket of pain’s cruelty,
Could only have been revealed for so few.
Humble sorrow touches her as she turns to night;
Once more to seek something new
She may have created love
In her thrown out admiration
Whatever pleasured her past,
Has sunken into silent desperation.
She knows these things to pass
Confronting her tearful sighs.
For there lies her broken lover,
As she gazes willingly into his failing eyes.
Copyright © Shane Brown | Year Posted 2011
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