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POEMS ABOUT THE ART OF POETRY

Welcome to my little on-line Poetry Chapbook. Each poem is about the Art of Poetry - the heart of the poet and the heart of the poem.

Browse the TWITTER listings to the right to find the lastest poems on my main blog. Just click on. You do not have to be a TWITTER member to use the links.

Enjoy.

I’m Tired

April 11, 2011

I’m Tired

I’m tired now.
My eyes are heavy.
My hand is slow.
Even my pen loses patience with me. 

People have wearied of coaxing me to sleep.
They’re afraid at this moment, I will not arise.
Would you want responsibility for persuading
    one to rest – when you knew they would not awake? 

So let me go –
Let me be…
Let my pen be the one who runs out of ink.
Not me.

Ray Brown

Consider purchasing my book of poems, “I Have His Letters Still” – Poetry of Everyday Life ($11.95).  Available on Amazon at http://tinyurl.com/RayBrownAmazon or purchase an autographed copy at http://poet-ray-brown.com

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Poetic License

April 8, 2011

Poetic License

My wife is concerned you may believe
what I have written. 

“A poet’s work is always autobiographical”, 

    she says. 

Crisis
Doubt
Spiritual uncertainty
Spontaneous insanity
Dark sides and black feelings
Constant references to suicide
Loneliness
Yearning
Lost loves
A continuing unfulfilled search for true love.
These tales are of a person she does not like to know;
    disturbing – especially the search for true love unfulfilled .

I tell her not to worry.
These are just life’s observations.
“Just Poetic License”, I explain.
“When Manilow sings ‘Trying to Find the Feelings Again’
His wife does not sit home crying I am sure.” 

“Listen Buster Brown” 

(An endearing reference I assume,
to the shoes of our youth) 

“Listen Buster Brown… 

“You have driver’s license, don’t you?
And I know you still speed”

Ray Brown

Consider purchasing my book of poems, “I Have His Letters Still” – Poetry of Everyday Life ($11.95).  Available on Amazon at http://tinyurl.com/RayBrownAmazon or purchase an autographed copy at http://poet-ray-brown.com/.

The Poet’s Hands at Twilight

April 7, 2011

The Poet’s Hands at Twilight

These hands are like the satin edges
    of a new born baby’s blanket
tucked tenderly beneath the future
swaddling the present through the night. 

Resting infant.
Comforted from the night’s dark shadows
sheltered from the world’s worries
by these hands of protection – 

Hands at rest
at the edge of a weary day
one placed on top of the other
wondering what the next will bring. 

Now grasp loosely, but firmly, a pencil
to play yet a silent poet’s score
on the back of an envelope
    from the credit card company.

Ray Brown

Consider purchasing my book of poems, “I Have His Letters Still” – Poetry of Everyday Life ($11.95).  Available on Amazon at http://tinyurl.com/RayBrownAmazon or purchase an autographed copy at http://poet-ray-brown.com/.

Words are Flights of Fancy

April 6, 2011

Words are Flights of Fancy

Words are flights of fancy
    wafting through the sky,
    carried on the breeze,
    clouds of snow white slate
    on which a poet paints his dreams.

Words are woven in tapestries
    brilliant colors and hues
    threads entwined
    snaring dreams on the catchers of the mind. 

Words glistening
    captured on the spider webs of emotion
    against an early morning sun
    dew drops clinging,
    relief for a parched soul.

Words are beasts of burden
    saddled with a message
    thoughts secured in stirrups
    ridden through the deserts of wilderness
    that seek an oasis.

Words are folded and snipped by the poet
    within the papier-maché of a delicate doily
    a pattern of beauty
    lays flat against the table of life
    or suspended in air on the strings of a heart beat.

Words are mine, yet not —
    they are free agents of spirit
    transparent images —
    passageways without walls
    by way of which a warm translucent light shines.

Beacon to those who follow a dream.

Ray Brown

Consider purchasing my book of poems, “I Have His Letters Still” – Poetry of Everyday Life ($11.95).  Available on Amazon at http://tinyurl.com/RayBrownAmazon or purchase an autographed copy at http://poet-ray-brown.com/.

The Wordsmithe

April 5, 2011

 

 

The Wordsmithe

 

I taste the salt of life.

Took measure of the sea,

and wait for the sun to awaken

a melody of words.

 

My pen the hammer.

This pad the anvil

against which the chimes of life

resonant.

 

I enjoy this smithing.

 

Can I craft an iron

which bespeaks that joy to you?

 

Ray Brown

My Pen

April 4, 2011

My Pen

I am glad I bought a new pen.
It has become a true friend.
With it my script is finer.
The words it chooses to write
are different than before. 

I marvel at its proclivity.
I want to sleep. It wants to move.
Swiftly across the page in bold strokes.
My hand needs to catch its breath!
Slow down! 

Why it chooses such forsaken hours is beyond me –
Pens have not lives of their own.
Though for all its irritation,
strangely I love it,
and fear the day it runs out of ink.

Ray Brown

Consider purchasing my book of poems, “I Have His Letters Still” – Poetry of Everyday Life ($11.95)Available on Amazon at http://tinyurl.com/RayBrownAmazon or purchase an autographed copy at http://poet-ray-brown.com/.

Itinerant Poet

April 3, 2011

 

Itinerant Poet

He arrived early and signed the reading list.
Then sat comfortably in uncomfortable plastic chairs.
Familiar with the routine,
he would listen to the featured poet –
forming all the time, thoughts about his own writing. 

He wrote from heartache or tragedy,
of some uncertain event or desire,
his inner hopes,
those darkest fears –
feelings for which paper and pen were conceived.
He could hide himself in the words,
like a child in a wood’s thicket.
Though they all knew from his dew drop tears,
the quiver in his voice,
the emotional life center from which conceived. 

The words he kept in plastic sleeves purchased at Staples
so the edges of his life’s travails would not fray.
Others thought he ought once in awhile
change these glassine windows to his soul,
when the view was smudged from the caresses of finger tips. 

Once he may have thought more –
but after a lingering term,
he realized he wrote, but for himself.
People rarely asked him to come back – specifically.
Occasionally a novice high schooler
would come up to him afterwards
swept up in the emotion – not so much the words.
His style mimicked their high school writing
the unrequited love of the teenager
for the desk next door in English class. 

Most gave up after two or three times,
or two or three months at the most –
some wondered why they even thought to come and read –
For each though, their precious symphony of words
composed for heartstrings
accomplished its purpose –
emotions now settled and merged into life’s existence. 

But he –

he, never quit — 

When he died his tombstone should have read: 

“Here lies an Itinerant Poet.
He persevered.
His words comforted him.
He caressed them
as he slept the one last time.” 

His daughter took the plastic sleeves,
placed them by the headstone,
put a small stone upon them,
covered them with leaves. 

He as a bystander, would have written about her feelings.
Her touching sentimental acknowledgment
of these deep emotional companions – that spoke of him. 

He would have wished though,they had at least made copies.
If he knew, he would have preferred they saved them –
even if it was in a dusty attic where no one
would find them except the moving company.
He would have chosen that a cleaning man
be the one to throw them away. 

Now they belonged to the wind and the elements
    — as did he.

Ray Brown

Consider purchasing my book of poems, “I Have His Letters Still” – Poetry of Everyday Life ($11.95).  Available on Amazon at http://tinyurl.com/RayBrownAmazon or purchase an autographed copy at http://poet-ray-brown.com