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David Brown Poem
On these bare walls
there once hung
artwork that was picked by you,
which you'd then picked over,
leaving only a needlepoint
your mother made for our wedding
and a picture an alcoholic friend gave you
of a bear
How ironic now,
it seems, they're not so bare
since I've hung a painting of
dancing bears on the bare wall where
I took down the needlepoint
and a butterfly,
in the bare spot you left
by the front door
Copyright © David Brown | Year Posted 2014
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David Brown Poem
Let's be friends...
We can walk down this road
and see where it leads to
Let's be friends...
We can do what feels right
and share what we need to
Let's be friends...
We can trust it's the tree
from which our destiny grows
Let's be friends...
We can let fate decide
where our hearts want to go
Let's be friends...
Copyright © David Brown | Year Posted 2014
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David Brown Poem
In homage to Mr Poe....
He dreamt a dream,
a violent vignette
a sorry scene,
he could not forget
He rose from his rest
and bolted the bed,
but the visions he'd viewed
would not leave his head
He set to scribbling
those terrible thoughts,
thinking that would
be the release he sought
He penned a poem
of the saddest sorrow,
a vivid volume
of terrible tomorrows
He wrote those words
in an ink of tears,
with a pen of pain,
on a sheaf of fears
He trusted those thoughts
would salve his soul
so he'd sleep soundly
in his hole
But when he woke
again next night,
his heart now had
a fearful fright
He saw in waking
the very scene
that'd in his sleep
afore he'd seen
As he looked on
his horror grew
and as he watched
'twas then he knew
Now, in his room
the dream did dwell;
it truly held
him in its spell
This cursed vision
of fear and fright
now ruled his mind
both day and night
But then, he saw
the candle burn
and his fevered thoughts
began to turn
He took the pages
that he did write
and held them to
the candlelight
The words began
to dance about
and leapt from the page
with a mournful shout
The pages then
burst into flames
and ran round him
chanting names
'Oh Lucifer,
Beelzebub,
Sammael
and Belial'
'Baphomet,
Mastema,
Lilith and
Azazel'
The words whirled round
and round his head
as he lay quivering
in his bed
And as he watched,
he came to see
his own body
floating free
He began to spin
at such a pace
no longer did
he know his place
He'd spun so fast
by this evil's throttle
he turned to liquid
and was quickly bottled
And now he waits,
he sits and thinks
of when another
will use that ink
To write a poem
of pity and pain,
so he may yet
be freed again
Copyright © David Brown | Year Posted 2014
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David Brown Poem
Thoughts
and
feelings
on a
downward
spiral,
now
that's
what's
truly,
going
viral
Copyright © David Brown | Year Posted 2015
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David Brown Poem
Oh, to be a hummingbird,
hovering near your flower
to float above your petals
for hour, upon hour
To taste your wondrous nectar
as I feel the morning dew,
to drink in all the mysteries,
the mysteries of you
Copyright © David Brown | Year Posted 2015
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David Brown Poem
I stand beneath a moon so bright
and ask for you to hear my plight
I yearn to know my love's delights
for that, I'd wait a thousand nights
My plea is gentle and polite
my wish is simple and forthright
I need your help, oh wondrous sprite
to bind our hearts, forever tight
I pray my lover's heart's your sight
and trust your aim be true and right
I beg you, stretch your bow string tight
and send your arrow on its flight
Pierce deeply, Cupid, this I write
and make our love come true this night
Copyright © David Brown | Year Posted 2015
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David Brown Poem
“Why fit in when you were born to stand out?”
David Brown, August 12, 2015
David had a moustache
It covered his lips
It grew and it grew
Till it reached to his hips
It flapped in the breeze
And it frightened small dogs
In the winter it would freeze
And in the summer catch frogs
His friend Juliet, well
She begged him to trim it
She said that his moustache
Had gone way past the limit
He hemmed and he hawed
And he dithered and dathered
But the moustache said 'No!
I will never be lathered!'
Juliet would not waver
She said 'It must go!'
‘It may have looked like your dad's,
but that was MANY years ago!’
The moustache, it quivered
It trembled and dropped
It knew Juliet was a woman
Who couldn't be stopped
It said 'Goodbye David
you will surely be missed,
but your lip must get naked
If you want to get kissed!’
Copyright © David Brown | Year Posted 2014
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David Brown Poem
Sadly, some women don't like to see their men bald
And by others, if you're bearded, well you'll never get called
Then there're the ones that only like their men tall
But some only like guys if they're really quite small
Some only want you if you know how to dance,
If you can't do the tango, then you don't get a chance
There's ones that want to ride on the back of a Harley
If you don't have one, don't even think of her, Charlie!
Some want to travel, of course, if you're paying
not all, I concede, but still, I'm just saying...
The list can be long, for some of these ladies
Including your choice of a car - can you say, Mercedes!
You can't be a smoker, a gambler or drinker,
An artist, musician, or worse; a deep thinker!
Ahem, well anyways, fellows, it does work both ways;
We can also have preferences at the end of the day!
We might like them thinner than they'd like to be,
We might like them shorter, well at least shorter than me!
We may want them to like hockey and baseball and sports
And also look nice in a cute pair of shorts
Some fellows may want a lady who still likes to run
while others just want a companion for fun
Some guys want their ladies to be really rich
While most are just wishing that she's not a real...
Which brings me, I guess, to the point of this verse,
And it's not that I'm mad and I feel I could curse
But if we want someone really nice to come nearer,
We should first take a really long look in the mirror!
Copyright © David Brown | Year Posted 2015
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David Brown Poem
Under that pale moon we fell,
deep beneath it's deceitful spell
the pallid beacon drew two moths,
each cut from very different cloths
sharing moonlight's loneliness,
our curse; our void; our emptiness
Under that pale moon, truth died
two lonely hearts could not abide
their fate, to burn, perhaps to freeze
those moments in the moonlight seized
on fragile wings, on furtive flights
together in that palest light
We fluttered so, so far away,
each leading other's hearts astray
to other moons and other's pain
and other lies were told again
for love, forlorn, for sanity,
for isolation or, for vanity
Two hollow hearts beneath that moon,
where hollow feelings end so soon
the vacuum of an empty soul's
a cold, cold place, a black, black hole
where fidelity and pride may die,
underneath a moonlit sky
Copyright © David Brown | Year Posted 2015
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David Brown Poem
When hurt is embedded, so deeply within
how does one remove it, where do they begin?
The decay begins slowly, when a life starts a-rotting
and it cannot be changed by planning or plotting
It's not be chased, nor coaxed from it's lair,
not left to escape and vanish into thin air
It can't be extinguished as a fire with a blanket,
nor hammered into shape like coins with a planchet
It can't be wiped as from the eye like a mote,
or scraped like a barnacle from the hull of a boat
It cannot be pulled from the soul like a cord
or hewn as a rope by the blade of a sword
It can't be excised like a malignant lump,
nor can it be carted away to the dump
It can only be moved with love and compassion,
with time and with care, there is no other fashion
Copyright © David Brown | Year Posted 2014
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