I suppose
If I were better with words
a wordsmith maybe
I could describe the sound

Crafted and carved wood against brass would be like
the first rain
falling upon a parched window

keys once made of ivory and mahogany
sound as footsteps on old and cracked city sidewalk pavement
some mostly young ones dance
avoiding the life persevering through said cracks
respecting
recognizing
seeing
the same youth in the life carving a path for their own roots
as they are told of their own

The older ones
take a moment to be still
to hold a note
to hold their breath
to feel the vibration
enjoy life
until the note has passed

How could one explain the voice of a bass

Maybe

It is the rumble of a trolley
the heft of the slow moving train
the uneasy but understood movement of the subway platform as it is arriving
but has not stopped.

the depth of its pitch causes feet to be ears
one’s chest becomes a resonating chamber

The chirps
The caws
The song of the metal birds
nothing quite like it

Words mimic the notes
vocals mime the tone
but
the horns

they fly

If I were better with words
I could tell you what Jazz sounds like

still

I don’t think I would

The words and melody are already there
for interpretation
for explanation
all I could really do is give you more

No

I wouldnt even if I could tell you about Jazz
instead
id say one word


© Christopher F. Brown 2013

Virgo

The scratching sound the pen makes
as it spills its ink upon the paper

The tension
The friction

The slight resistance and minor show of force
the ink and paper perpetrate against the words
against the writer
as if to
push back

The writer channels his muse
summons his mate
performs and act of love
embarks on an endeavor much more family to *** than he will ever admit
everytime as if it were the first
the writer

creates

© Christopher F. Brown 2013

What I lack in
Monetary means
You
By far
Lack in depth of soul

Your mind is filled with emptiness
Who slapped whom
On that (so called) reality show
How to tell
Real designer labels
From
Fake designer labels

The possessor of everything new
Until a newer one comes out
Regardless if the old new one
still
works just fine

The finer things in life are always expensive
The worth of a man is ALWAYS told by their clothes
Or
The car they drive
Or
The neighborhood they live in

Shhhh

Don’t say this out loud

Even
The darkness of their skin
Or the region their grandparents came in

Yes you
You’ll be young forever
As long as modern medicine can help it

Yes you
You’ll be forever in
As long as you keep company with a certain type of crowd
Agree with the thoughts of a certain few that claim you as
But not really
Kin

Loved by many
You are
Hated by more than what you think are few
You are

What about you

If and when you ever
Seek reflection
Look for me

Sincerely
You

The you
You forgot about

The you
That got you there

The you
That you left here

The you
That keeps you up at night

You

I am
But
I don’t think you’ll understand

You

Haven’t been

Me

In a long time

If you saw
me
I wonder
Would you recognize
All that you try to hide
All that is

You

©Christopher F. Brown 2012

Technorati Tags: Shallow’s Love Letter,cfbrown.com,poetry,christopher f. brown

You think you can define me
Your name must be Webster

Blanket statements

I have more than one gear
Multiple settings
Complex configurations

They are not for you to
Tamper and tinker
With

They’d be simple
If you asked
They’d be simple
If I told

You assume much
Based on
No observation
No study
No inquiry

You assume much
Based on
Someone else

I continue to
Do and be
Me

While you remain confused
Surprised by my actions
Baffled by my words
Perplex by my expression

Since you won’t ask
Since you assume you already know
Ill only say

You never saw me
You only assumed you did
You never heard me
You only assumed you did


You never knew me
You only assumed you did

©Christopher F. Brown 2012

Technorati Tags: I was never here,you assumed I was,poetry,Christopher F. Brown,cfbrown.com

Some place quiet
peaceful

Preferably
I would like to
Walk
Or maybe
Ride a bike there

If I have to drive
I think too many people might know about it
It has already become too popular
Its purpose
The reason I would have went there
has already been defeated

I’m not trying to give an impression of exclusivity

Sometimes

I just want to be alone

In a place where
I can take a book
Read for hours
I can take a pen and note book
Maybe my laptop
Write for days

I’d bring my headphones
Or
Listen to nature’s symphony
A radio would be too much
Too loud
Not something I would want to carry

I won’t do what I did to my last one
One became two
Two became a few
A few
For me
Became too many

I won’t tell anyone
Ill just leave a note,

Gone fishing

Be back
Sometime between
Now and Then

©Christopher F. Brown 2012

Technorati Tags: Fishing Hole,poetry,Christopher F. Brown,cfbrown.com