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Rebecca Brown Poem
Verses, full of the obvious.
Natural observations,
made from the inner core, of an outer mind set.
Standing strong, on a blended stem.
White petals, folded gently together.
Closed, in a semblance of peace.
A simple illusion of bursting newness,
longing to open and receive,
the warmth of the sun.
The revelations of possibility,
flow like neon bravery,
through the roots of the garden circle.
Lighting the way.
Never ceasing.
To stop, would mean the demise of faith.
Flowers, taken for granted by subconscious choice.
Fearing to bloom fully,
lest the white petals fall like tears.
Detached forever,
from the blended stem.
Take time to smell the flowers.
Maybe hold them tightly,
with an equality of understanding.
Touching each and every one,
with the comfort and love,
that is their destined role...
on this ride.
Copyright © Rebecca Brown | Year Posted 2007
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Rebecca Brown Poem
I must try and lead my dreams,
to where the lost and unforgiving answers,
rejuvenate their circle.
Two days, have somehow passed
and my eyes are half empty.
I still need to sleep.
Two days, ahead now
and my eyes are half full.
Hence, the satirical tear shed,
to hypothetically cleanse....
absolutely nothing.
Copyright © Rebecca Brown | Year Posted 2007
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Rebecca Brown Poem
I can only seem to watch over the world,
as it sleeps.
With my eyes closed tightly and a motion of minds' breath,
I can see brief glimpses of where I need to be,
to find my rest.
It's so beautifully odd....
like seeing Jesus in a hat.
I've taken many a circle walk, at night.
I've stopped and kissed Lestat,
while stealing lilacs in the comfort of the dark.
I suck on the candied faith,
that somehow grows from the pores of the peaceful.
I do all this, while sitting on the curb.
Standing, may cause my balance to drip,
but I will learn to dance,
inside the timesteps.
Copyright © Rebecca Brown | Year Posted 2007
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Rebecca Brown Poem
For awhile, I thought I had.
New love.
New dreams.
New smiles.
Letting go, the small things that hurt.
They are tiny compared to past, trashed confidence.
Never quite finding my true place in the equation.
Maybe the answer is stuck in some ugly , frothing math book, somewhere.
If so, I won't look there.
Why bother.
I am made of heart.
My only thinking muscle.
Whether beating with joy or pain,
it's beat is reliable.
Consistent.
Safe.
My only true measure of my own reality.
Even broken, it is less painful than letting it rely on misguided thoughts.
Feeling lost, while watching agendas, that seem to be the norm.
Other people's norms..........not mine.
I will never understand the meaning of "self first".
I have lived my life for others, since the day I cried at birth.
Abandoned.
My birth, an inconvenience to a womb.
My existence, to make a childless couple happy.
A friend, to soften the blows of life for the masses.
A Mother, to succeed and fail.
A lover, to give and give and give.
A spirit to fly.
A soul, to yearn.
A body to tire.
Watching simple selfishness, destroy our world.
Reaching with an open, soft hand.....just to so narrowly miss, sharing a loving
touch.
A touch, that might have saved a sightless and misunderstood, silent innocent.
We stay in the background.
We have been conditioned by our own experiences, our own shortcomings, our
passive tears.
A balance, perhaps?
To keep the equation from tipping over the universal rhythms?
I feel it.
Heavy, with doubts of belonging.
Wondering how the self absorbed agendas of the stronger minds, stay crisp.
No illusive smudges.
Never wilting.
No room for throwing the afore said agendas, into the hammock overviews, of a
rotated picture.
Find my place?
I'm probably on a list, somewhere.
Copyright © Rebecca Brown | Year Posted 2008
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Rebecca Brown Poem
The past, seems to be cloning itself inside my shadow.
Just a brush of air, as it feeds my shadow shape.
I'm hearing touches and feeling echoes.
Crying smiles and laughing tears.
Stirred and laid side by side on a see-saw.
Be it a dream glimpse or a fear?
Elucidation, depending on the weight of the day.
Standing by.
Aching to be a complete duet.
Lost somewhere outside, looking in.
Ears straining to speak to a beautiful "a cappella" heart.
It too, lost in a way?
Copyright © Rebecca Brown | Year Posted 2007
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Rebecca Brown Poem
I left my voice, down by the water.
It will be safe.
At least there, any tarnishment of tone,
will slip invisibly into the simple rythmn of the earth.
I can't hear it.
I left my soul, standing quite cold and still.
From beneath the protective shadow of the dream tree,
it will keep watch.
Sneak, back into the warmth of the sun?
My spirit has become weary.
On pure will alone,
it may fly me once again, across the search grid.
I hear, it is a good path....Trust.
If I ever find it,
I may ask a friend to walk back with me.
Down to the water.
Maybe, even ask them to help carry some of the weight,
if only long enough to feel unburdened for awhile.
Share gladly, the same in return.
Push hard.
Send it finally away.
We could sit and hold hands.
Watch and wait, for the heaviness of our fears and sorrows...
to finally sink, the broken red canoe.
Copyright © Rebecca Brown | Year Posted 2007
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Rebecca Brown Poem
I am slowly seeing, the dark regions of the light.
For some reason,
the presentation of truth, in it's simplicity,
has left me on the outside.
There are no other souls, here with me.
I doubt my own senses.
Pain and passion, have lost their distinction.
Both are now,
the same hue of jade.
I seem totally aware,
of the oneness of ice and fire,
and the paralysis of fear and lust.
Learning to accept,
the finesse of joy and sorrow,
and the life breath, of endless queries.
What else is there to do,
between love and death?
Copyright © Rebecca Brown | Year Posted 2007
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Rebecca Brown Poem
I watch with curiosity,
the approach of the opposites.
Each day, brings cloudiness and clarity.
It is a simple routine.
Withdraw, in bravery.
Bloom, in the acceptance of life's rituals.
Play along.
Keep quiet, any useless love.
The echoes of revelation,
would only shatter the facade.
The irony, sickens my belief in caring.
But, I am weak.
Pulled along into the spiritual madness,
of the directionally challenged.
I'm on my way to being found, but today,
I am still stuck in it's opposite.
Copyright © Rebecca Brown | Year Posted 2007
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Rebecca Brown Poem
So numb. Feel nothing.
Retrace, desperate memories.
Old, wet smiles,
are now my life support.
Plugged into what....
the everyday?
Watching future illusions,
through eyes, present.
They are still soft and misty,
from past passion and pain.
Knowledge and lore,
kept in locked compartments.
They are too intense,
when left unlocked.
Visiting only,
to touch the tip of life's wonderment.
Similarily, remembering to crawl,
back into the maze.
The distinct, identical sensation,
of love and heartache.
Both, ripping at your soul,
with hot abandon.
Leaving you breathless,
and wanting more.
Scream quietly,
for no one hears.
Love, forever loud,
for no one hears.
Listen....
for no one ever hears the listener.
Copyright © Rebecca Brown | Year Posted 2007
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Rebecca Brown Poem
Ambiguous, isn't it?
Trying to stay here.
Grasping at the interlace.
Subconscious persecution,
melts into our souls, like liquid fire.
We still let it warm us,
as if it were a long, lost love.
Taste the heat.
Swallow the illusion, if it will help.
When you finish, try moving slowly.
Back to the beginning.
Remember feeling free, before the interlace?
Wrap your existence there.
Let the rest go.
There is no guarantee of a safe return,
but, there is also no danger,
in your own serenity.
Copyright © Rebecca Brown | Year Posted 2007
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