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The lovely trees of autumn shine,
in fields of majestic glory;
It's heaven's way to give the world,
a pure and glowing story.

While whistling winds intrude upon,
the corners of our minds;
And the gentle breezes blow afar,
each colored leaf aligns.

As the trembling branches of the trees,
shed all their crinkled leaves;
The bounty of a sacred world,
brings nature to its knees.

The northern winds blow heavily,
with frost and chilly air;
And soon the days of winter rise,
as snowflakes dance in pairs.

Remember how the whistles sing,
a tune of changing seasons;
From God above Who tells the tale,
with faith, and hope and reason.
 Oct 2018 emnabee
Brandon Conway
There was once a poet from long ago
Who stories told of transformations
I shall tell of one that you may not know
Pyramus and Thisbe who loved through a cracked foundation

Whose houses were connected, neighbors were they
Families ensnared in rivalry and outrage
Oh how did it so weigh
On these blind lovers left with lips to assuage!

A crack so small only a desperate lover could see
A whisper only could dance through to ease
Two star-crossed lovers crouching on hands and knees
Expressing words that warm and please

To bring to light
Their love they did agree
To meet late at night
By the white mulberry tree

Thisbe first to show and await did she
Until a loud rustle filled the air
Frightened she ran off and hid thee
So fast her veil escaped the grasp of her hair

A lioness fresh from feeding
Paraded on passing by,
She went sniffing and licking
Veil now red left under the midnight sky

Pyramus, with the white specked tree in view
Sees just an empty sheath
Just a mulberry tree under a blanket of moonlit blue
With a crimson soaked veil underneath

Thinking he lost his heart's desire
She the cure to eternal strife
Life now nothing but mire
Wishes to follow her in afterlife

A sword he did reveal
With both hands set and firm
Fell on this stinging steel
Left as food for the callous worms

Oh how his blood did gush
Painting white mulberries incarnadine
Thisbe returning in such a rush
For Pyramus she did pine

A lifeless corpse awaits for her
Under that maledict tree
Blood soaked veil she did incur
So she dropped to one knee

Life without him she hated
A breast she did beat
Cried to the gods, fated
His sword she did greet

Forbidden love changed white to red
The berries we have today
Ill fated lovers left dead
To embrace in rot and decay

Together on the pyre
Rivalry has come to end
Lovers cradled in fire
Ashes in one urn, together again.
 Oct 2018 emnabee
Brandon Conway
Wandering this dark forest with no guide
Figuring out the labyrinth of the my feeble mind
Evading the sun for melted wax leads to a salty tide
To rejoin the stars so I too can shine
 Oct 2018 emnabee
Brandon Conway
For some, poetry comes naturally
But for me its like carpentry

It takes nails, wood, glue, and time
To build these words that hopefully rhyme

In the end I hope these walls survive
So the beauty that lives within will thrive

To grow into ones colorful crest
To inspire fledgling poets building their first nest.
 Oct 2018 emnabee
Brandon Conway
Start the happy synth
Cue the steady drum
Come in with the sly bass
Whistle the hipster hum
Move your feet to match pace
Dance with me now love

A chemical swirl got us moving
A chemical swirl will put us to sleep
But for now, while night is looming
Don’t stop moving those feet.
 Oct 2018 emnabee
Brandon Conway
The greatest piece of art
is found in the movement
of bodies

the fluidity of the wrist
to paint the nakedness
of humanity

the speed of fingers
strumming and plucking
our souls

the sensuality of flesh
moving in rhythm
of life

the meticulous eye
capturing little moments
of society

Art is beauty
and beauty is movement
of bodies.
 Oct 2018 emnabee
Brandon Conway
Mr. Piano Man how your
fingers rain down on the keys
dancing a somber ballet
capturing the feeling of being empty
like those bottles underneath

Here Mr. Piano Man
the next drink is on me
while we sift through debris
of our melancholy

Every note stings
every chord bleeds
woe is you
and
woe is me
play
Mr. Piano Man
a song to our ennui

Let it rain Mr. Piano Man
let the storm hammer the strings
lets swim in the puddle
of whats spilt underneath

Oh Mr. Piano Man
What is that I hear?
That note that was just hit
it sounded rather queer
there is no room for happiness
at the bottom of this beer

No! NO! Mr. Piano Man
I don't want the sun
go back to stormy waters
to where you had begun

I thought you a friend
I thought we allies
I thought we understood
the sounds of demise

Mr. Piano Man how you so betrayed
with your songs of love and spring
every note my heart aches
every chord a bee sting

Mr. Piano Man this is my goodbye
I am leaving you now
please don't cry
I am going to my new friend
Mr. Bartender
How do you do?
Give me an endless bottle
and another drunk to talk to.
 Oct 2018 emnabee
Brandon Conway
There is a light that likes to turn on
when I lay my head down for the night,
toss and turn with my dreams now forgone
no matter the yawn, this bulb is bright

not with so much as ideas but, words
and small phrases that I rearrange
that will fly away and cause me nerve
so I spread their wings, pin and arrange

their beauty captured and put in frame
so finally I can hit that switch
and try to win at this sleeping game
I will wake up in a few, poem rich

and so repeats the boundless cycle
capturing metaphor butterflies
in this restlessness bed of idyll
sleep late, wake early, a compromise
 Oct 2018 emnabee
Brandon Conway
My god, your beauty is bright
I can see the halo radiating
though the clouds at night
my heart hastily pulsating

whenever we're in the same room
my eyes only gravitate towards you
I recognize that lovely ambrosial perfume
when you glance, my cheeks take a different hue

I have immortalized you through my poems
but I rather spend this mortal life
basking in your lissome arms
a drop of you cures all my strife

I want you in the flesh instead of dreams
but any thought of you is okay by me
look how the moon thinly beams
highlighting my idiosyncrasy

You move my pen, dear
and you don't even know it
to you I owe this writing career
and I am scared that I might blow it
 Oct 2018 emnabee
Brandon Conway
Behind these eyes, insanity
a slow permeation of a voice
screaming truths and half truths

I just don’t want to listen
so I flood the head
just to drown the haunting

but it is ******* immortal
every night I send an eagle
to gnaw on the larynx

every morning it’s there to greet
disguised as a fictional friend
                  fiend. I meant fiend.

it’s kudzu it’s ******* kudzu
every day is a mid spring day
even in winters delicate palms

I spend the nights soaking in a bath
last night I let the water ******* tongue
soon it will feast on my lungs

I can go out like Plath
except my poems are bad
and my novel is only a paragraph

I will not
     let the inner
          demons win.
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