'Trust'

Trust in myself,
is just a reflection
staring back at me
through
a broken mirror.

'Autumn's Relinquishment'

Trees appear anorexic now
as autumn exits the stage,
our audience with her remains though
until she has taken her final bow

Birds are slowly leaving
in search of summer days
where songs are sung, washing hung
and lovers keep believing

Street lamps wink at each other,
acknowledging darken skies
that send shadows under cover

and throughout all of this time
winter has been waiting in the wings
surrounded by his cloak of despondency
and a distant echo of nostalgic chimes.

'The Death of Autumn'

Autumn is dying tonight
Its cries sounding amid the deluging droplets
drumming ceaselessly upon the roof above my head
Of all the season’s
it seems the cruelest death is reserved for autumn
Winter wanes into resplendent rebirth
Spring swings joyfully into summer
like a child on a garden gate
And summer surrenders gracefully
colorfully closing its pages
dying a hero’s death
mourned by all who knew her
But autumn dies alone
Like a once proud lady who has outlived her children
knowing all along she was never anyone’s first choice
She was the friend of the girl everyone admired
Tagging along in summer’s shadow
she made the best of her hand-me-down’s
smiled when she should, and always said the right things
She settled for what she could get
made the best of what she was left with
invested everything she could into her inheritance

and didn’t complain
Now, alone and defenseless
she faces the rising winds
creeping frosts and long dark nights
without even an erstwhile suitor for company
She gathers the few remaining tatters she owns
folds her hands over her breast
and allows the snows to cover her
her tears freezing
before they even fall.
 
Blaise Brown.




NB: To share some words written by Blaise, because I was just thinking about him and remembering this baby he once gave to me for 'safe keeping'.

'Would it Matter?'

(for SF)

Would it really matter

if  I
never wrote
another
word

or

if  I
never sang
those sad songs,
no one
ever heard;
from my Soul?

Would it really matter
if  I
never wrote
another
word?

Or

fed those
tattered love notes
(from my heart)
to hungry birds?

Would it
really
matter
if  I
never wrote
another word

or

even breathed
salted sighs
from the Sea?

No

Because
there will
always be
someone

(to do just that)

after me.

'Semi's'

(to T)


I know how wrong it is
to sing this song

when the ivory keys I play
are all out of tune
and a devil dances
where an angel walks
daring to sprinkle confetti
without a thought;
just because it's pretty

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

ok

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

So now I'm going to keep them all
zipped up in my pocket,
where they can have a ball
without making mischief;
and an angel can sleep
while a devil weeps
for the death of all the pretties!





NB The story behind this.......someone I use to know always  'pulled me up' about my punctuation. I have a habit of sprinkling the little buggers about anywhere, just because I think they look kinda pretty (words come to me, but they don't come wrapped in punctuation unfortunately *sigh*). So I wrote this (an oldie 2005) for her, but I dedicate such to Thomas. He is a master of placing the 'pretties' in exactly the right place.

'Premature Infants'

Time's seconds
wash over her
and now
trips inside
her brain,
meet demons head on/
head in
a swamp,
once sane

Where now
silent monkeys
pray,
that blue babies
drowning in her stream
of dreams,
will be washed
away
by the seconds
of time.

'Senseless Sense and Green Cars'

(for all the 'old guys' who I think are pretty much Geniuses)



She sits crossed legged
in the middle of the road,
waiting for fate
to deal a blow,
watching geniuses
passing by

Thirsty for affection
she even anoints
her face
with black tar
and drinks
her own saline tears,
to replace
the starvation
within

So
passing by
geniuses
will see
the blow of  fate,
sitting crossed legged
in the middle of the road;
waiting.