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Dec 2020 · 101
Distant Skies
Alan Brown Dec 2020
Blurred street lights cast a
hazy reflection on the
city sidewalk. Its glowing
particles gravitate to your
glossy trench coat, bounce,
then gently disperse. We stride
through waves of gelid wind but
in your aura I am warm & calm.

Your cheeks appear smooth like buttons,
& I, like a curious kitten, am eager to press
my paws against them. But I do not.
This is our first night we have walked together.

You were a shooting star,
short lived but spectacular.
A streak of guiding light
in an aimless night.

& in distant skies
I still see flashes.
A past date
Dec 2020 · 73
Promised Lands
Alan Brown Dec 2020
It took 7 dates,
But it was worth the wait.

When it finally happened
I could have sworn
that I saw explosions from
synapses firing beneath
the surface of her

My lips brushed
pressed tightly,
narrowly withdrew.
tangy & alluring,
smothered the air
between us.
I could not breathe!
I did not need to.

“Take off your sandals,”
She said.
“Feel holy with me.”

The thunder of trumpets rattled the red sea of blood in my arteries.
A chorus of shouting thoughts compelled me closer to her.
I laid a hand on her cheek, & stroked the contour
of her torso with the other. I felt us trembling,
but in my arms the gentle ripples
from her skin dissipated & I
Drifted into calm.
Our walls had collapsed,
& in the clearing beyond the rubble
& melted silk heartstrings,
I found promised lands.
The Fall of Jericho
Nov 2020 · 101
Shoveling Spoonfuls
Alan Brown Nov 2020
A feeling buried
of time
pleads for resurrection.

It paces within
the confines of my
ribcage. So sweet
and horrifying it is
that it still lives on,
aged & twisted.

I wanted this
love to be
put down.
There was no
future for us
with me here
& her there.
We were in
different places,
in more ways
than one.

She begged me
not to do it.
“It will only hurt more later,”
I said with a grimace,
pulling the trigger.
My heart wept as
& my body shook
to the sound of

& so at a private funeral
I buried my love,
deep within me,
thinking it was dead.
But it were merely

When it woke it howled.
Now it whispers.

I wonder if, across
the ocean, it is alive
within her as well. I
wonder if she wants me
to hold her as much as
I do.

I do not know
& may never.
All I can do is keep
shoveling spoonfuls
until one day
I drown out
the whispers.
Oct 2017 · 427
Swallowed By Dark
Alan Brown Oct 2017
6:00 PM
The songbird sang
As it always had,
Mellifluous and free
Up in the apple tree

9:00 PM
The cicadas shrieked
& the wind howled
As the setting sun
Drew blood from the twilight

12:00 AM
Shadows absorbed into the night
Lingered in a foggy patch,
Mingled with the gelid air
& muffled a shriek.

3:00 AM
There she lay,
Pristine as a summer’s day
Her soul swallowed by dark
& pattered by the rain

6:00 AM
The songbird sang
As it always had
Mellifluous and free
Up in the apple tree
Apr 2017 · 683
& So She Flies
Alan Brown Apr 2017
a lustrous moon glossed in mist
shines on impatient lips longing to be kissed
while a thumping heart drowns in the dark,
weighted by a romance devoid of spark.

her heart is as restless as a dove,
starving for infatuation & love.
his heart is empty & cold,
living life only to grow old.

the hazy contour of slender hips  
dissipates as candlelight is extinguished by his lips;
her quick footsteps & the click of a door lock
are drowned by the steady ticking of a clock.

tonight she spreads her wings to fly,
eager for takeoff & sweet goodbye.
unchained, she is finally at ease.
abandoned, he shrinks to his knees.

He cries.
& so she flies...
Apr 2017 · 504
Wrath of the Forest
Alan Brown Apr 2017
gnarly wooden tentacles
itch at Earth's gritty soul,
puncture its spongy surface,
& descend into the deep.

the strands of juvenile oak
maneuver the hickory soil,
strangle desolate tectonic pipes,
& ravenously slurp the dwindling liquid within.  

this is how it began.

slithering branches hiss at the sun,
& suffocate the placid sky in  
crusty juniper leaves;
like infantry banners they flutter
triumphantly in the erratic, apocalyptic air.

beneath them lies the fractured animal kingdom,
scavenging on rationed rain and sunlight
drizzling through the foliage gaps;
this is the cost of conquest,
punishment for a war unwisely waged.
humanity spurred by ambition
falls victim to the wrath of the forest
& subsequently into eternal darkness.
Apr 2017 · 334
2:14 AM (Lost To The Night)
Alan Brown Apr 2017
raindrops weep from my window
to the tempo of a heartbeat,
splatter on the sill,
& fall before my feet.

pitter patter, it goes...

the tranquil gleam of the moon
casts a velvet glow upon my wall;
an unbridled gale rattles the glass
& the raindrops continue to fall.

as they coalesce, a puddle grows...

my weary soul reflects in the dark
with palms pressed together tight,
confused & misty eyed,
seeking sanctuary in the light.

in its presence, i’m alright...

But drifting fog swallows the moon
as the chilly wind shifts direction;
i’m consumed by a wolfish darkness,
& mournfully abandon my reflection.

yet another wanderer lost to the night...

& so the wall no longer glows
& the puddle only grows...

am I drowning?
God only knows.
Apr 2017 · 975
Unkept Garden
Alan Brown Apr 2017
coats of dust & pollen settle
on an unoccupied desk;
clumps of rust sprout
on faded typewriter keys.

marmalade pages with
elaborate strokes & scribbles
shrivel like mango slices
suffocating in tropical heat.

a dozen lolling envelopes
with awe inciting addresses
from San Francisco to Shanghai
each wither like aging flowers.

the room once gleaming in
luminescence now hoards darkness.
brandeis blue curtains drape
the windows, stifling sunlight.

sober emotions linger
in the thick, musty air;
overripe creativity decays
into the unwashed floorboards.
rhyme, rhythm, & reason
of the mind cease to bloom;
curiosity & inspiration fall dormant
in a chilling, thoughtless winter.

the mind of a former poet
is an unkept garden;
an Eden of ideas abandoned
in favor of myopic trivialities.

though unattended, the
garden is never barren;
cultivate your imagination &
you will always harvest beauty.

**it’s never too late to pick up your pen;
water your mind & your garden will grow!
Apr 2017 · 639
Alan Brown Apr 2017
sleep tight my darling;
as you nestle in the comforts
of your blanketed nook,
may the complexities of life
subside as you drift into slumber,
dissipating to nothing more
than tiny particles of dew,
benign as the gentle breeze
blowing past the curtains
of your windowpane.

embrace the serenity of sleep,
for tomorrow will bring new treasures,
each more beautiful than the last,
& a future more fulfilling than the past.
Apr 2017 · 265
A Flor Del Piel
Alan Brown Apr 2017
she held my heart within cupped hands,
caressing its leathered, crimson skin.
with fingers soft & swift
she peeled it layer by layer
littering the ground with rose petals.  

she loved me,
she loved me not.
Dec 2016 · 355
Alan Brown Dec 2016
Do you remember...

The touch of supple fingers
Against cheeks of pastel vermilion,
Rendering vertigo and scuttling breathing...

Voracious glances luring bodies closer...
Anxious eyes &
Trembling lips coalescing? could I forget?
Aug 2016 · 402
The Avenue Of Emptiness
Alan Brown Aug 2016
Is ignorance truly the path to bliss?*

Walk the avenue of emptiness
& discover the strange meaning of peace.
When life fades into a soft monochrome,
A translucent, angelic mist of white
Descends like tinsels of lucid satin
Gliding from an opened window…

Blinding the soul?

Here the docile mind flutters like a snowflake
Guided by the gentle push of tepid winds,
Perfectly content to wallow in this
Incandescent void of thoughtlessness;
A realm that’s absent of philosophy;
A realm that’s absent of a direction.*

But at what cost?

Repudiate your dreams & beliefs;
Empty them from your mind & let them plummet
Out your ears as if they were violent
Rivulets cascading from a mountain
Crevice & lathering on jagged rocks
Below... do this and you will walk this road.

Is ignorance truly the path to bliss?
An existence without the joys of life?
Without the power of choice & thought?
Without clear individuality?

*It is a shame if so.
Aug 2016 · 683
Salinas, California
Alan Brown Aug 2016
Below the emerald mountaintops,
Guardians of the ocean breeze,
One finds a valley of fair crops,
Delicate soil, & buzzing bees.

Convivial whips of sunlight
Stroke lavish groves of hardy trees.
On every branch, hidden from sight,
Fruit slumber underneath the leaves.

It is no wonder that Steinbeck
Cherished his California roots;
The land of viridescent trek,
Unyielding sunshine, & fresh fruits.

Here placid air unbinds the chains
Which hinder a poetic mind.
Away from life’s rigorous strains,
Deep thoughts are vividly defined.

In the midst of the Salinas Valley,
Ideas amass wings with which to soar...
Aug 2016 · 553
Beauty Of The Beach
Alan Brown Aug 2016
O beauty of the beach…

The dying of the day
Soaks the somnolent sky
In drips of melting gold;
The teardrops of the sun.

The shimmer of the light
Trickles over ripples
From effervescent waves
Dancing on the water.

Warm, creamy sands along
Lake Michigan glow like
Vivacious embers low
Beneath my tickled feet.

Cool, frisky evening gales
Blow my troubles far, far
Away, beyond the haze
Of future’s foggy skies.

Goodnight, Lake Michigan;
Goodnight, o placid skies;
& goodnight my darling;
O beauty of the beach.

May the virtuous grace
Of evening tides carry
You to the kingdom of
Hearty mirthful dreaming.

& may you wake to find
A marvelous morning
As beautiful as you...
O beauty of the beach.
Aug 2016 · 1.8k
That Evening
Alan Brown Aug 2016
That evening,
The irises of a lady’s eyes
Aroused the vastness of an ocean
& her pupils glistened
Like pearls beneath shallow,
Languid waters of crystalline blue;
Their lustrous nacre
Reflected the sparse rays
Of dwindling evening light
& swooned over the elegant
Procession of the stars above.

That evening,
The fractious mysteries
Of the universe withdrew
Their reticence & conferred
Their wisdom upon her;
Deep and troubling questions
Which once had lingered in
Her thoughts were burnt to cinders
By kisses from the flame of truth;
Memories found their meaning,
& rhymes found their reason.

That evening,*
Her once perpetual,
Merry exhalations
Mingled with the ocean air for
The final time as she
Became one with the night.
As she ascended into
The great unknown, she saw
Memories flash before her eyes.
For life is but a flash
Within the spectrum of eternity.

That evening,
She discovered so much
But paid the price of what she knew.

That evening,
She became nothing more
Than stardust.

*“For you were made of dust, & to dust you shall return.”
Jul 2016 · 531
20,000 Shooting Stars
Alan Brown Jul 2016
Together we were participants
In the sumptuous recital
Of twenty thousand shooting stars….*

My soul melted as her fingers
Entwined with mine, inducing the
Stirring passions in my heart to
Rapidly overflow & flood
My chest in mystical frenzy.

The pools of rapture in her eyes
Glistened in the limelight of
My captivated gaze, coaxing
My tentative lips closer with
The hope of merging mine with hers.

The jostle of a midnight gale
Impelled her into my arms,
Imploring us to gently dance
Through the lather of the dusk
& to traverse celestial realms.

*Together we were participants
In the sumptuous recital
Of twenty thousand shooting stars….
Jul 2016 · 1.4k
At The Crossroads Of History
Alan Brown Jul 2016
A serious danger threatens the
Stability of our country;
Democracy dangles upon a thread
& oscillates to every poll.
Today we wait at the crossing
Of two paths; which way will we go?

Will we pursue spite and ignorance?

Our way of life hinges upon
The prudence of our countrymen.
Will they rise to the occasion
Or flounder at the voting booth?
One or two impetuous votes
Could change the course of history.

Will we be on the right side of history?

The tortuous months soon to come
Will shape our fragile destiny.
So many important questions
Remain unanswered as of now,
But I can only hope that we
Will avert a catastrophe.
Jul 2016 · 225
Tokens Of Forever
Alan Brown Jul 2016
O darling, I’m in agony!
I crave the synergy of our
Impassioned, sensuous romance
& yet I must languor in wait.

If only the blow of a kiss
Possessed the strength to sweep away
Each cheerless, dilatory day
That separates the two of us.

O the irony! The days are
So long & yet life is so short.
It seems that time is torturous
& every tick is but a tease.

Yet days are docile when eclipsed
By the timeless resonance of love.
A kiss is a token of
Forever; a boundless embrace.

& so perhaps the blow of a
Kiss cannot diminish the days,
But in the spirit of forever,
That supple kiss shall outlast them.

For the destiny of a kiss
Is to flirt with infinity.
Jul 2016 · 443
Together As One
Alan Brown Jul 2016
The world seems apathetic to
The agonies of those who live
In remote countries; deaf to
The cries that scorch the weeping wind.

It’s time that we open our eyes
& understand that terror happens
On every corner of the map,
Not simply nations close to home.

It’s time that we open our hearts
& learn to sympathize with all
Casualties of disaster,
Regardless of their differences.

It’s time that we open our minds
& realize solutions for
The suffering are well within
Our reach, but only if we want them.

The human race can overcome anything,
But only if we stand together as one.

A prayer to Baghdad;
A prayer to Istanbul;
A prayer to Jeddah;
A prayer to Dhaka.

And anywhere I may have missed.
Though the message is a bit "cliche," it's something I think we should keep reminding ourselves of none-the-less.
Jul 2016 · 311
O She
Alan Brown Jul 2016
O she is like the night;
A midnight mystery.

Her voice…

The resonance of night
Abates voracity
& bathes a sinuous
Soul in satisfaction.

Her eyes…

A myriad of stars,
Dainty sugar crystals,
Illuminate the black
In opaline brilliance.

Her embrace...

The darkness clears the mind
& dreams extemporize,
Each rendered by the hymns
Of soothing nightly winds.

Her compassion…

The early hours yield
Serenity to sleep,
Providing strength to face
Yet another morning.

O she is like the night.
My midnight mystery!
Jul 2016 · 401
Force Of Nature
Alan Brown Jul 2016
A ruthless tempest roars
Above my shoulder &
A lightning bolt shoots from
The sky in fractious rage.

The tears that trickle down
My face are mingling with
The raindrops, tumbling down
To feed the muddy ground.

I am angry.

In my bitter anguish.
I will not be silent;
I will not cry alone.
The Earth will share my pain.

I am the sun; I am
The rain; I am the wet;
I am the dry; I am
All forces of nature!

& tonight the Earth shall **shake!
Jul 2016 · 659
J’ai Besoin De Toi
Alan Brown Jul 2016
Darling please encumber
My heart with strains of
Robust, consuming love;
I’ll carry the burden.

Toss me face-first into
Your boiling pool of ripe
Seduction; drown me
In its piquant waters.

Drag me to the pulpit
Of your sins; Bury my
Lips with myriads of
Sweet couverture kisses.

Gnarl my brittle feelings;
Beleaguer me with chaff
& teasing; conquer my
Heart & claim it as your own!

J’ai besoin de toi.
I need you!
Jun 2016 · 1.3k
A Sonnet To Life
Alan Brown Jun 2016
Life is quite eccentric,
Its motives are arcane,
Storms may rage and sputter.
The sun may rise again.

Agony may perish.
Ecstasy may dwindle.
Days may last forever.
Time may lie or swindle.

Life’s but a dalliance;
A ripple on a wave.
All in life that’s certain
Is life cannot be saved.

Will you be encumbered on the day your life says goodnight?
Or will you melt in anguish as your soul takes final flight?
Jun 2016 · 247
O Darling
Alan Brown Jun 2016
As I peer into the far depths
Of you iridescent eyes, I
See a vast arcadian sky;
A kaleidoscope of color.

The splendorous sight propels my
Imagination to the clouds;
My emotions burst from within
& leave me in starstruck stupor.

I once watched drops of time descend
In incessant, poignant drizzle,
Consumed by perpetual wait;
The waiting stopped when I saw you.

At last I know how’it feels to be
Entwined in a mutual love;
A symbiosis of two hearts,
The mingling of marvelous minds.

O darling you’re my cornerstone
& my life’s missing puzzle piece.
While in my arms you complete me.
At last, I am truly alive.
Jun 2016 · 305
To Love What Can't Be
Alan Brown Jun 2016
I remain dazzled by
The subtle flash of your
Enchanting, sistine eyes,
& sweet margarine cheeks

My heart extends its wings
& glides with all the doves
Upon hearing the sound
Of your soothing giggle.  

I’m at the mercy of
Your immaculate touch;
My adulation for
You is ineffable.

& yet, despite it all,
The pungent taste of a
Love turned sour remains
Fresh on my seething lips.

O I wish I’d never
Been tickled by the touch
Of love; & I wish you
& I’d never spoken!  

It seems I’ve been cursed
To love what can’t be loved,
& hate what can’t be hated.
This was poem was published here earlier, but I decided to edit it a bit.
Jun 2016 · 722
Alan Brown Jun 2016
Whisper her name & let the word
Linger within the anthem of
A whistling, sultry summer breeze.

Enunciate the word again
& let each syllable flow through
My weary bones & longing heart.

The sound fosters a melody
So sweet and proud; I’m overcome
By gentle dreams & gallant goals.


Alas, every sound & every word,
& every person fades away
Like the dying of a rainbow.

Echos disperse & colors melt;
Promises of forever are
Only meant to tantalize.

Despite it all, I will grapple
With nebulae of space & time,
Seeking a chance to make things right,

And rekindle my lifeless love,
Jun 2016 · 533
O Artist
Alan Brown Jun 2016
O vehement artist,
What secrets do you keep?
In each splash and splatter,
What insights do you reap?

From your brush fall gentle
Droplets of Persian blue,
Riddling the papyrus
With a sumptuous clue.

Rivulets of color
Drift razzly down the page
Dancing with bravado
Like actors on a stage.

The murky, azure paint
Gives way to curious shapes,
Soon to evolve into
Soothing, luscious landscapes.

This humble masterpiece
Warrants credence in art.
For art’s a divine gift
To both the eyes and heart.
Jun 2016 · 8.1k
Memories, Memories
Alan Brown Jun 2016
Memories, memories,
Demons destined to remind!
Memories, memories,
Extricate them from my mind!

Alas! They echo toward me
As ripples in the brain.
Evoked by love and roses
They prickle me insane.

Oh, I remember…

The hour summons a restless, withered afternoon
During which I succumbed to ravenous decay.
I desperately chased feelings like an unhinged loon,
Swifting through my pond in fear, panic, and dismay.

Impeccable beauty
& fanciful expectation:
I was thwarted by both.

Each summoned its own
Distinct, rolling shadow.

Oh I remember…

I was washed forth by whistling tides of tomorrow,
Clinging to a heart I could not own or borrow.
My feelings, whisked in transit, dizzied by the fray,
Yearned for second chances to conquer yesterday.

Gelid gloom would
Permeate my heart,
Tearing me apart.

Haunted by a feeling
I could not possess,
I drowned in

Oh I remember...

Loneliness was chronic; slowly it tapped time;
My life become a poem lacking voice and rhyme.
As silent afternoons would coalesce into years,
My dreams burst into smoke & hope thawed into tears.

Memories, memories,
Are nothing more than that.
Memories, memories,
****, ****, ****!

I do not wish to remember,
But dare not to forget
Moments that once plagued me:
Moments I regret.

No matter how strong be my will,
These memories will haunt me still.

**Oh how I wish not to remember...
Jun 2016 · 418
A Perverse Infatuation
Alan Brown Jun 2016
Like early morning dew,
Your peppy lips doth gleam
In sun-blessed scarlet hue,
To seize my heart’s esteem.  

Like a evening star
Your silvery eyes doth shine
Through space and time afar
In elegant design.

Though you adore me not,
Fidelity goes on.
My darling I cannot
Admit thy love is gone.

Though from thy heart I am expelled,
My love for you shall not be quelled.
My first attempt at an English Sonnet. I apologize in advance haha
Jun 2016 · 205
A Lingering Heart
Alan Brown Jun 2016
What is it like to know that someone truly cares?
What is it like to know your heart is safely theirs?*

Mutual affection is an eternal tease,
Intended to beguile a person to their knees.
Affection sedates a cold, agonizing end;
A bitter rejection which one cannot transcend.

Why must it be so difficult to find romance?
Why is the world so quick to deny one the chance?

The lonely ones zealously thirst for tomorrow,
Convinced that they can withstand the “fleeting” sorrow.
These spirits gallop to taste love’s succulent sip.
But shatter at the crack of reality’s whip.

How’d loneliness become a beast I could not tame?
How’d I become a victim of love’s vicious game?

A lingering heart can only dream for so long
Before it abandons its resolve to stay strong.
It withers while it drifts into acquiescence,
Lamenting over hope’s whispered evanescence
Jun 2016 · 184
Forever Flows Fast
Alan Brown Jun 2016
Forever flows fast like a turbulent river,
Carving through each tomorrow with
A wild and ruthless expediency.

We are merely paper ships,
Flimsy and vulnerable in its
Tenacious waters.

Though some may stray off course
At the perpetual shift of the current,
Or crumple at the beleaguering
Of a ferocious wave,
Most will carry on.

But during some blessed moments,
When the breeze cools still
And the waves subside into placid ripples,
We may float tranquilly downstream,
At peace with our existence.

But alas, paper ships are
Cursed with a limited mortality.
Eventually we will each plummet
Silently into the murky depths of the river,
Casualties of its never ceasing flow.
Jun 2016 · 288
To Grapple With The Current
Alan Brown Jun 2016
If every moment,
Like a seashell tossed on a rocky beach,
is made to shatter,
And feelings are not meant to last forever,
Does anything truly matter?

If our fates have been fixed,
And our actions are dictated
By manuscripts,
Is free-will just a romanticized

Must I live a life of acquiesce,
Allowing myself to be prodded by the waves?
Must my time merely consist of
Futile attempts to squeeze into
A procrustean bed?

Are there no dreams,
So inciting and mellifluous,
Worth fighting for?
Is there any sense in
Pretending to be free?

I am not content to sit back and watch
My future drift away like a ship at sea.
I can be passive no longer.
Though my efforts may be unavailing,
I will grapple with the current,
Claiming sovereignty.
And if I am to fail,
Let me plummet like an anchor,
Into the dark, liquid,
Jun 2016 · 1.1k
That Gibson Guitar
Alan Brown Jun 2016
Underneath the swaying hickory tree,
He plays his Gibson guitar.

Though his song crumples in the sweltering
Southern breeze, he continues to strum
His guitar strings with a zealous passion,
Expelling each song lyric outward from the
Disconsolate depths of his mourning heart
In hopes that someone, somewhere will listen.

Within the confines of his cluttered garage,
He plays his Gibson guitar.

Though an irritated sister bangs violently
On the door, he continues to play unperturbed
As his three bumbling friends dance clumsily
To the crooked melody and his younger
Brother rolls on the grimy floor in uncontrollable
Laughter at the screech of a leaky note.

In the bustling, sullied streets of the city,
He plays his Gibson guitar.

Though passers by attempt to avoid eye contact,
Whipping out their sleek smartphones and burying
Their faces in their screens as they hurry past him,
He continues to penetrate their eardrums with his
Dissonant ballads, pausing only to collect pennies
Thrown in sympathy at his worn, weathered feet.

In the Marlboro stench of a crumbling nightclub,
He plays his Gibson guitar.

Though some customers, unsettled by the cheap alcohol flowing
Pugnaciously through their veins, heckle him relentlessly,
His guitar continues to erupt with an unapologetic
Persistence, rattling the stomachs of even the
Sober clients into a nauseous, drunken ailment.

And now, despite the aching calluses ingrained in his fingertips,
The bumps and bruises deriding his cherished instrument, and
The overbearing lights irradiating him from the high iron canopy,
He continues to pour each poignant lyric from within him, just as he
Has always done, Letting each of his fingers dance from
String to string, and every verse arouse into graceful takeoff.

As he reaches the final verse of his final song, he pauses abruptly,
And listens to melodious, emphatic voices
Reciting each lyric and bursting into jubilant applause.

In the limelight of a thousand adoring eyes,
He still plays that Gibson guitar!!!
Alan Brown Jun 2016
Navigating his way past screeching taxis,
Unperturbed pedestrians,
And vibrant street performers in the city,
A young boy scurries down the street,
Smiling ear to ear.
He extends his arms perpendicularly to his body,
Propelling his body left and right,
Pretending to be a jet plane.

He is meeting a girl today.
And not just any girl;
An angel.
At least that’s how he sees it.

In his left hand, the boy carries a rose.
Grown from love, it’s dashingly large;
A symbol of his exuberant feelings,
It’s a gift for the girl,
And an invitation to a first date.

In his pocket, the boy carries an iPod shuffle.
Giddy with optimism and bliss,
The boy’s heart skips to a romantic pop song.
He proudly waves his rose through the air as he moves.
Holding it like a microphone,
And not bothered by judgement,
He sings the lyrics to the song aloud.
He’s in love,
And he wants the whole world to know.

As he scuttles ever closer to their arranged meeting place,
The boy grips the rose tighter now,
Guarding it with his life.
He sinks into a daydream,
Thinking about her:
The way the sun amplified her splendid complexion,
The satisfying fluidity with which she would say his name,
And how she giggled as he pushed her back and forth on the swings.

Nearly out of breath, the boy arrives at the street corner.
He spots the girl immediately,
And a thrilling tension condenses in his chest.
The girl bestows him a smile,
But she looks agitated and in a hurry.
Unable to contain himself much longer,
The boy extends the rose out her,
Revealing to her not only the gift, but also his feelings.

“No thank you,” she says lucidly.

The boy’s smile fades and his cheeks turns pallid.
Though in a state of disbelief,
He accepts her verdict with civility.
The girl offers genuine condolences, but shows no signs of regret.
Covertly, the boy holds back his emotions and bids her farewell.
But as he walks away, he’s overcome by an unfamiliar, rankling feeling,
And his heart plummets like a raindrop falling from the sky.

As he wrestles with his grief,
The boy begins to weep and loses grasp of the rose.
It tumbles out of his hand,
Only to be violently stolen by the wind,
Sullied by the filth of the sidewalk,
And trampled by people passing by.
Jun 2016 · 297
Living For A Memory
Alan Brown Jun 2016
At the collision of day and night,
When twilight torches the sleepy sky,
Dying sunlight reclines over the horizon,
And demure darkness
Daintily descends,
She waits.

During evenings like these,
She journeys to the beach
And surveys the sea,
Eloping with the elements,
Exposing her skin and soul
To wandering winds.

As she stands there,
Vulnerable and pristine,
The tide tickles her toes
And she giggles at the call of
Whispering waves.
The fading sunlight flickers goodnight,
Dancing on the sea surface.
And then she remembers.

She is living for a memory;
Dying to fulfill a dream.

At night’s true nativity,
A latent force harvests
Emotions from within.
She extends her arms and
Alacrity overtakes her
In the form of a smile.
A tempest rushes through her,
Pitching her very being from within,
And conflating her spirit with the sea.
Together with the endearing waters,
She is complete;
She is free.
The unofficial sequel to my last poem, “Where The Sunlight Meets The Sea.” I originally intended for the girl in this story to be the lover of the speaker in the aforementioned piece, but I realized afterwards that, depending on your interpretation, she very well could be the speaker herself. I’ll leave that up for you, the reader, to decide.
Jun 2016 · 578
Caffeine Creations
Alan Brown Jun 2016
As pleasant chatter echoed from within the coffee shop
I lurched backward at the kick of a scorching cappuccino to my lips,
Clumsily sloshing a few spiteful drops onto the beechwood table.

Reaching sheepishly towards the nearest napkin,
My gaze fell inadvertently in the direction of a
Comely young woman sitting alone at a nearby table,
And I immediately became possessed by her presence.

My hands reached for my backpack in animation,
Fiddling with the zipper and unearthing a spiral notebook,
Flipping anxiously to a blank page on which to draw.
It became apparent that I discovered a muse.

With her hair hanging loosely in caramel curls,
The girl stared at her novel in placid fixation,
Delicately perusing each word in hopes of
Absorbing each ambiguous connotation.

My pencil scampered fervently while she flipped a page,
Dipped her little finger into her petite cup,
Mingling the whipped cream and murky coffee,  
And sampled her caffeine creation with a succinct sip.

Though I toiled with haste in fear that her attentive eyes might
Wander and spot me in my mad state of artistic enchantment,
I captured every angle and curvature of my subject in my notebook,  
Once finished, I could not help but be in awe of the masterpiece I’d created.

After a hearty slurp of my now tamed cappuccino,
I held my drawing up to compare it to my muse,
But to my astonishment, she had disappeared.
Dainty fingers tapped friskily on my shoulder.

“Well done,” the girl quipped, analyzing my work admiringly,
Then snatching the notebook from my quivering hands
And replacing it with a crumpled napkin on which she
Had scribbled down the digits of a telephone number.  

“See you this evening. Don’t be late!”
Jun 2016 · 288
Starstruck Symphony
Alan Brown Jun 2016
The golden tremor that your
Prepossessing smile imbues
Strikes a chord in my veins,
Delivering a robust vibration
Throughout my body as if I
Were being played like a viola.

The exuberance renders a
Gentle melody from within
The chambers of my heart,
Amplified by the alluring
Flutter of your eyelashes and
Your mellifluous laughter.

Conducted by love’s affluent stroke,
The starstruck symphony within me
Plays on in diligent unity,
Basking in the shadow of your beauty,
Hoping that its tender song
Might delight your pristine ears.
Jun 2016 · 732
Lady Stardust
Alan Brown Jun 2016
In the midst of a moonlit avenue,
You and I stumbled jovially across the pavement,
Giggling at each other’s absurd motions
Only to both tumble backwards.

With the evening’s beer still fresh on my lips,
I took a reckless dive at a kiss
But to my surprise you reacted with oblivious indifference,
As if my gesture was forgettable as an irksome breeze.

Instead, you reclined comfortably on the cement,
Letting your rippling hair flow in the caressing starlight,
And marveled at the celestial luminescence above us;
A million petite crystals dancing over our heads.

“One day you will find me waltzing with the stars,”
You said, rocking your head back and forth as if
Mystical ballroom music were playing in your mind.
“And I’ll shine like a lantern in the night sky.”

Perhaps it was a alcohol conjured vision,
But I could have sworn the pearls of your eyes
Glowed as the words glided off of your lips,
Ascending into the midnight sky.

I may have never known your name,
Or from where you came,
But I know your final destination.

When a shooting star streaks through space
Dabbing the night in a silvery melody,
I’d like to think that it is you,
Waltzing in ecstasy across the moonlit sky.
Yes, the title is a reference to the David Bowie song :D
Jun 2016 · 288
Beauty In The Black
Alan Brown Jun 2016
Oh how difficult it is
To find beauty in the black.

Loneliness, a carping vulture,
Hovers domineeringly over my shoulder
Like a judge presiding over a defendant,
Pecking at my skull ardently as if to call
The sleeping phantasms of my mind to order.  
What I am guilty of I cannot say,
Yet I am encapsulated by a dungeon
Where darkness engulfs me like a clammy sleep,
Rendering me senseless and numb.

In presence of my agony, the cynical bird
Assumes the role of conqueror,
Flapping its wings forcefully, walloping the gelid air
Right and left throughout the cell,  
Beleaguering my skin
And rattling my bones.

Oh how I long to extinguish this perpetual anguish.

Though on a rare occurrence,
A ribbon of sunshine stealthy slides
Through a crevice in the
Blistered board suffocating my window.
I rejoice,
Coddling it’s mellow benevolence.
But the light is retrieved by the bird’s
Watchful eyes.
It spreads its wings,
Swoops before my eyes,
And extinguishes the light,
Fueling the frigid, black

Oh how difficult it is
To find beauty in the black.
Jun 2016 · 1.7k
Alan Brown Jun 2016
Bellowing trumpets call the palace to order and servants,
Dressed from head to toe in exquisite lace,
Promptly wave their lush palmetto leaves while the Pharaoh
Ambles domineeringly down the marble corridor.

Though the floor rattles at the cries of enemy soldiers
Penetrating the once impregnable palace walls,
The mighty Cleopatra, exuberant in both beauty and intelligence,
Maintains a powerful, dignified forbearance.

Immune to cowardly apprehension petrifying those surrounding her,
The Pharaoh relies on only her brooding heart to guide her.
Though her once opulent eyes scorch in melancholy,
They look onward toward the cynosure of her existence.

Clad in dense armor, Mark Antony clasps his sword resiliently,
Pacing nervously back and forth throughout his room
At the thought of the danger soon to overtake him.
His breath hangs heavy on the seaside air.

Antony’s complexion brightens at the sight of alluring lover,
And he releases his guard, opening his arms as she approaches.
Shouting erupts from the neighboring corridor
Though neither he nor Cleopatra discern the enveloping chaos.

As Roman soldiers zealously round the corner and overtake the lovers,
Waving their weapons high in hopes of slaughter,
The couple’s lips merge together as one,
Producing an everlasting bond that no sword could sever.
Not meant to be historically accurate
May 2016 · 400
Midnight Scientist
Alan Brown May 2016
Laboratory lights sizzle
In the presence of the
Midnight scientist.
Irate tinsels of electricity
Strike his apparatus,
And coerce the limp,
naked corpse outstretched
On his table
Back to life.

Contrary to the scientist’s
Great expectations,
The corpse wails at the
Discovery of his renaissance.
In a vehement tantrum,
He thrusts test tubes and beakers
Left and right,
Each shattering and leaving
Chromatic, flammable residues
On the sensitive floor.

“You FOOL. Do you not understand
That you have deprived me of HEAVEN
And its splendorous elation?
Do you not realize that you have wrestled me
From the benevolence of the angels
Only to reacquaint me with the
Wickedness of the earth?
No crime is greater than this cursed
Life you have bestowed upon me.”

“But Charles, I loved you like a brother!”

The laboratory lights sizzle
In the presence of
Smoke and inferno.
The walls recede into powder,
And blanket the deceased.
Both mangled corpses,
Reduced to smoldering bones,
Lie solidified with arms reaching
Toward Heaven
With jarring smiles on their faces.
Alan Brown May 2016
Someday you’ll find me
Where the sunlight meets the sea,
Waiting patiently for you.
My spirit will be scattered across the surface,
Riding bobbing, bellicose waves,
And gasping for a nostalgic whiff of
Honeyed oxygen.

Know that my soul will be
Immanent in the rising of the tide.
While my wide liquidity hands
Slither across the sand,
Fervently longing
To catch a memory,
I will reach out to you.

When you hear the roar of the waves
Beleaguering brawny rocks on the shore
Know that it is me
Crying out for you,
Yearning to relive
The serene moment when
We watched sunlight kiss ripples
Effusing through tender waters.

For you, I’ll be content to
Languor in transit,
Bound between Heaven and Earth,
Engulfed by sunlight and sea,
Until we may ascend together,
Alan Brown May 2016
One who hesitates to write,
Fearful of inability or judgement,
Possesses a naked notebook page,
Barren of courageous creativity
And lush inscribed splendor.

Take heed;
A passive, sedated spirit is merely destined
To be shattered by deriding winds.

To those who doubt themselves,
I say to you...
Soar beyond the constraints of
Hesitation’s wary piloting
And let your confidence take the wheel.
Pry open the rusted seals that
Guard your creative vaults
And let words escape ebulliently
From within.
See them smack the air,
Splinter into polychrome droplets,
And descend daintily to the Earth,
Quenching the thirst of the arid, gray,
Rendering the colorful bloom
Of the imagination.

And if you are to be so fortunate,
A few stray droplets may fall off course,
And land delicately onto your naked notebook page,
Dressing it in vibrant, lavish
Apr 2016 · 295
The Shadow Of The Starlight
Alan Brown Apr 2016
I’ve been cursed to watch the days wash away,
One by one,
Waiting for you.
The pain of relentless time turned my heart
Though encrusted in peppery ashes it still
Never forgetting
What I am waiting for.

One autumn evening,
You and I will sit together,
Embracing the quiescence of the outdoors,
Reclining on a plush blanket,
Feeling the wind gently brush against our backs,
Content to languor peacefully,
As the sun dips under the horizon.
Runaway rays of light will illuminate your face,
And as you turn to look at me
The sparkle of your alluring eyes will
Spark effervescence in my heart,
And suddenly,
I will remember what I waited so long
To see.

Perhaps the waiting is just a punishment,
An atonement for sins
Of a past life.
Or perhaps my dream
Is just too beautiful
To share with just anyone,
Anyone but you.

Perhaps the lost hours
Will redeem themselves
And blossom into bliss.
Perhaps one must venture through
Before they can reach

Perhaps I’ll find you soon.

Until then,
I’ll soak myself in sweet reverie,
Watching the sun set,
And the night drape itself over the sky,
Like a curtain covering a stage,
Signaling the end of this act
Of my life,
And the start of something new;
Together with you.

It will be during moments like these,
In the shadow of the starlight,
When you’ll look me at endearingly
As I tenderly touch your cheek,
And pull you close to me,
When I will realize
The wait was worth it.
Apr 2016 · 287
Cyber Romeo
Alan Brown Apr 2016
Hooray! You finally grew a backbone
And let your feelings of love for a girl be known.
Now, while waiting for a dilatory reply,
The hours are slowly trickling by.
Ardently, you emulate Romeo,
Accentuating your feelings of wistful woe.
The world around you stands still
While you pluck petals from a daffodil.
“She loves me, she loves me not,” you say,
“But I will always love her, come what may.”
The words dribble sweetly off of your lips,
Only to melt at your trembling fingertips.
In an attempt to soothe your worrisome pain,
You decide to message her once again.
But after you turn on your phone and swipe to her photo,
You read with horror…“message seen 6 hours ago.”
Alan Brown Apr 2016
I’ve got a power in my fingertip.
****! I can disappear whenever I please.
All I have to do is to snap and strip,
Then I can travel anywhere with ease.

Invisibility can be quite fun.
In a way, I am a real life ghost.
I bet I could really mess with someone.
If they made me mad, trust me; they’d be toast.

My friends want me to exploit my powers.
“Hey Brad, why don’t you try stealing a car,
Or go spy on the girls in the showers?”
But I know that would be going too far.

I use my skill in a different way.
Sometimes, I’m randomly “absent” from class.
And just like that, I’m free for the day,
Relaxing in the park; just me and the grass.

Ever ridden a bus naked before?
I have, but nobody ever saw me.
Ever wanted to get out a chore?
I snap my fingers and ****! I am free.

Alright, you’ve heard enough of my bragging.
It gets kinda lonely being unseen.
To be honest, my morale is sagging.
I am the only invisible teen.

I dream that I’m not the only one.
If there were more out there, how would I know?
But then again, there are probably none.
Well, who knows? Maybe one day they will show.
Apr 2016 · 220
Shadows of Yesterday
Alan Brown Apr 2016
Every so often,
When I find myself in peaceful solitude,
I face my looking glass in reverie,
Reflecting on my past,
Contemplating my future.
All is tranquil.

Then the clock strikes midnight,
Rendering apparitions from their slumber.
They effuse benignly from the darkness,
Only to pounce on my limpid mind,
Stupefying me with shadows of yesterday.

They transport me back into lonely squalor,
Encapsulating me in an arid existence.
Here I battle neglect,
From both myself and others.
Torment bubbles within me,
And like Hamlet,
I cry for the agony to melt me,
Eradicate my soul,
And reduce me to air.

But before I slide to the point of no return,
Hope pries its way within despair’s rigid gasp,
Releasing me from my trance.
The clock strikes again,
And I’m relieved to find morning
Peeking through my window.
The shadows recoil in sight of the light,
And all is calm once again.

I forget where I’ve been,
And remember where I’m going.  
The sheen of tomorrow beckons me onward.
And all the while,
I hold my looking glass close to me;
A constant reminder that I’m a survivor.
Apr 2016 · 313
Cupid's Toy
Alan Brown Apr 2016
Blighted by loneliness,
And a rankling in my heart,
I earnestly sought ways to attain love,
Soliciting the advice of a sagacious spirit.

A clever charlatan,
Speciously deceived me into believing
He possessed these secrets.

“Be bold,” he giggled,
Releasing his grip on his bowstring.
An arrow pierced me in the chest,
Rendering jubilation in my heart.

Blinded by the prospect of emotional opulence,
I approached my love,
And let my feelings flood from within me.
Depicting me to be desperate,
She fled,
Reprimanding my imprudence.

Feeding on my dejection,
Continued his machination,
Reciting to me yet another sophist claim.

“Be nonchalant,” he giggled,
Coaxing me to woo another.
My courage swelled,
And I obeyed fervently.

Circumspect and unconcerned,
I withheld my feelings to my love,
Hoping to avoid yet another debacle.
But the more I waited,
The more my love’s patience faded,
And her teetering feelings receded.

Realizing Cupid’s skulduggery,
I cursed him in animosity,
Clinched my fists and abandoned him.
Alas, it was to no avail.
I could not escape his arrows.

In that moment, I finally understood;
I was nothing more than Cupid's toy;
Nothing more than a source of amusement.
Apr 2016 · 561
I Wish I Were In Colorado
Alan Brown Apr 2016
God, I wish I were in Colorado
Driving down a dusty rural highway,
Beholding colossal mountains
Emerging from the horizon,
And feeling the sunlight around me
Gradually turn into snow.

There, the air befuddles the mind,
Diverting thoughts,
Altering time.
The mountains form a fortress,
Serving as a refuge to lonely travelers;
A sanctuary of serenity;
A place where spirits soar with the eagles,
Dance in the crisp, motherly breeze,
And meditate in the dense forest.
Tension dissipates,
Gratification is gained,
And convalescence commences.

God, I wish I were in Colorado.
Apr 2016 · 276
Humdrum Afternoons
Alan Brown Apr 2016
I face the wall solemnly,
Hoping to hinder the
Perpetual stream of humdrum afternoons.
Sunlight sidles through curtain cracks,
Only to be shredded by the dark,
Gloom-encrusted walls.

I am confined to my dreary room,
Deprived of liveliness,
Bound to insipid repetition.  
Time moves ever so quickly,
Yet my life is standing still.
Deadlocked in stalemate.

Though my senses function adequately,
My heart beats factitiously.  
How ironic it is to be alive,
But not to be living.

I yearn to possess merriment,
Yet I sit idly alone
As a component of a drab,
Recurring cycle.
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