I dread each eve so filled with grief
A heart benumbed in disbelief
I rant, I rave, I cry, I pray
Why does my angel so betray?

In bed I stare awake all night
Frigid fear, orphaned plight
I pinch and zoom and try to clutch
To reconnect - one last touch!

I'm haunted by that blessed call
When you hit the dreaded "wall"
I pray you're on the other side
Free of pain, strength in stride

Another morn, another fright
Sleep escapes, emotional blight
O Mom, I hope you hear my plea
From my demons set me free!

After the rain...
While the grass
Is still wet
And the trees
Are still dripping
And the earth
Is still absorbing
Our tears

I will pause

And think of you
And feel refreshed

...after the rain

Did someone steal your youth away
And leave you as a tiny old-timer?
Did someone say painful things to you
And, like a coward, did they run away?
Was there any kind of warning
So you could at least adjust?
Or did they just leave you there
With no hope, no faith, no trust?

Open up your arms you angels!
See me where I languish!
Have you no caring word for me
To raise me above this anguish?

Was there one day pleasant skies
And dreams of a cheerful future
Then the next day you were all alone
With no one there for nurture?
The world becomes a darker place
When do people on which you rely
Make a choice between you and themselves
And leave you to live or die.

Open up your arms you angels!
See me where I languish!
Have you no caring word for me
To raise me above this anguish?

Looking for the face of love
And finding disapproval there,
Where else can a person go,
To learn of love and care?
Will they not find other things
With much less pleasant names;
With the risk the sufferer
Will find themselves to blame?

Open up your arms you angels!
See me where I languish!
Have you no caring word for me
To raise me above this anguish?

Oh for the skill of the poet's pen
That I might stir the souls of men
If only to an introspection
Pensive moments of reflection
For in such moments man is real
He can allow himself to feel
To listen, love, to shed a tear
To cry aloud, though all may hear

Pray why is it then
That men, "true men"
May never share
Their love, their sorrow, their despair
Is this the world thus juxtaposed
Where love and sorrow are so loathed
Or might have earth 'tween night and day
Begun to spin the other way?

No fates, nor stars are there to blame
Nor must man's fate remain the same
Pray heed the word the poet tells
In lofty verse he shall reveal
To all who have but ears to hear
To all who would but shed a tear
Oh for the skill of a poet's pen
That I might stir the souls of men...

Louis Brown Jan 2011

The Old Magnolia Tree

Beneath the old magnolia tree
I used to hold you close to me
And there I carved upon that tree
That I loved you and you loved me

Beneath the white magnolia blooms
You cast a spell with your perfume
I believed those wooden words were true
Ingrained in hearts of me and you

But time wears out what boys engrave
Nothing's left of the love you gave
Except that old magnolia scar....
I wish our love had come so far

Yeah, I wish those words were still on track
Cause every spring I dream me back
To tender lips and sweet perfume
Beneath the white magnolia blooms

But time wears out what boys engrave
Nothing's left of the love you gave
Except that old magnolia tree
Reminding me.....reminding me......
Copyright Louis Brown
------

This was a poem I wrote to honor Mr Brown whom I sadly never got to know but was a brilliant poet on HP!
Miss his verse...

Ode To Mr. Louis Brown

We wish we knew you Mr Brown

The lights glow dim in Poetry Town

We stand beside Magnolia trees

And pray your soul is fancy free



I read your verse with teary eyes

And hope that I can be as wise

You were a gentle soul of song

The joy you brought is just as strong 



I'm glad your verse you did not brave
Upon Magnolias to engrave

Your words of wit are safe with me

For Poetry Town is your tree!



Unlike that old Magnolia tree

Poetry Town is full of spree

She was a fool to lose your crown

But we'll always love you Mr. Brown!

I miss the beauty
of a verse
lost in clouds
of heady prose
laced with numbers
mind in throes
I miss the beauty
of a verse