To gaze upon you is to see the drunken spirit of summer's golden glory ablaze This cascading sunlit radiance ignites endless skyborne fires after serenity raining To listen to you is to hear joyous chorals from spring's laughing resurgence These dulcet angels' harmonies compose a cappella themes from life's rising voices To breathe deep of you is to smell subtle fragrances from autumn's perpetual change These earthy russet undertones return forgotten memories of yesterday dreaming To taste lite of you is to drink cold clear waters from winter's last flowing stream These icily refreshing draughts laced with subtle teasing spices from life's future vintages To touch upon you is to feel the complex tapestry of years woven by our fated hands This silk-smooth living thread weft with coarse grey wool after experience living © 1992, Aaron Brown
Poetry
First Night of Autumn
The smoke-tainted wind brushes graceful fingers through skeletons of leaves, discussing the night in whispers among hibernating trees whose stately branches bear night's jeweled canopy. Stiff grasses laugh in delight at the campfire's firefly sparks dancing in ritualistic splendor above enthusiastic flames waving them onward from below to journey upward toward shimmering brethren above. Fallen leaves fly forth to begin their own midnight jaunts - swirling with the fickle wind, they play music to wish upon with brass chimes hanging outside the darkened houses dreaming of summer departed. © 1991, Aaron Brown
Field Theory
A current flows forth from Eternity,
bearing within it all the worlds
and foundations of the Universe.
Its grasp is gentle, yet pervasive,
Nothing escapes the velvet glove
it wears with grace over steel.
Those within are too slight to see
or even grasp that they are swirled
along with its flow — and so dispersed.
None perceive the gift it strives to give,
Few feel the faint but insistent shove
to rise beyond the dust where they kneel.
Carving its course through banks of Time,
the current has no beginning and no end
foreseeable to itself or those it flows past.
For to all who fish from its shores
it will always be, and has always been,
A fixture of Forever passing into Infinity.
It is its own‚ separate and sublime
Destiny’s child sent out for itself to fend,
Of all things only its fate is cast.
Its end becomes its beginning once more
Leviathan Ourobouros, sight unseen,
The moebius strip guarding Eternity.
©1991, Aaron Brown
Fear
Fear has strength. It grips,
squeezing away the breath of dreams,
crushing the faith of heroes
down in the depths of memory’s heart.
Fear has teeth. It gnaws,
cracking apart the bones of reason,
sucking out sanity’s marrow
behind the back of the mind’s eye.
Fear has scales. It sneaks,
slithering through outgrown skins,
brushing the clenched darkness
knotted in the stomach’s pit.
Yet endure, endure for
Hope has wings. It flies,
feathered on the morning breeze,
carrying that single olive twig
above the fear in the waters below.
And all floods recede,
and all floods recede.
© Aaron Brown, all rights reserved.
(with nods to the classic by Emily Dickinson and to the Book of Genesis)
Exits (Rictameter)
Exit here said a sign for Central Avenue. But I knew it led to nowhere. So I drove on further, and chose instead to explore shadows more subtle out beyond the limelight down another Exit. © 2005, Aaron Brown
Child’s Play
There is much we don't know, all mysterious and grand. We got a bright shiny ball all covered with sand but no rules for play, nor even a plan. We're given room to grow, so we learn and we scheme, reach out for truth, all posture and bluff then try to split Infinity, and count all the sand. Without knowing the rules, as children will, or fools we made up our own to use. We guessed how to play, and all think we may just try stealing the show. But while we run about and shout out our rules, does the knowing Adult looking over the board laugh and ridicule or smile and reflect? © 2005, Aaron Brown
Chasing the Muse
When the poet set out to capture poems,
by building cages of paper and ink,
he shouted in vain at reluctant words
to come lay down within them.
But none did
When the painter set out to capture paintings,
by building stages of canvas and dye,
she strained in vain at bending the light
to come shine down upon them.
But none did
When the boy went wandering daydreams,
watching clouds dance across the sky,
whispered the wind for art to come
and write a poem in his heart.
And he knew
When the girl went walking on rainbows,
watching rain dance on rippled pools,
whispered the wind for art to come
and paint a canvas in her mind.
And she knew
What those others had both long forgotten
in scheming to catch the saddened muse
is that true art cannot be captured
and beauty is only given for free.
© 2005, Aaron Brown
Cathie
Gaily dancing sunbeams Streaming swiftly outward From inner brightness Illuminating in passing Artfully stained glass Windows gazing outward Upon the world..... Radiating solemn playfulness From within honey-bright Landbound waves forever Flowing with an unknown Rhythm along the swift Laughing current bubbling Up from the Soul..... © 1991, Aaron Brown
Being
I am water. You are earth. Our lives are the river formed by my motion and your guidance. Life is an ocean filled by many rivers. Love is the sunlight dancing on the waves of life's experience. Children are rain drawn from the ocean by the warmth of sunlight. Kissing the mountains at birth, they follow where we have lived. © 1994, Aaron Brown
Behind the Shield of Darkness
If I would see the Darkness, I have but to close my eyes Behind this shield, in sight of dreams Borders casually casualty on causality; extents Quicksilver authored, spit; writ in reams Myriad infinite streams outward flung; Light and darkness, wind and dine, Dance we to harmony yet unsung Key signature; signed in cosine Those secrets of Ancients past Remain vivid, bright; flowing Creating evolving shaping cast Blue neon origami lightning Illuminates deep black; knowledge, King Timestreams interenterundertwine; Braided dark right wrong light Projected onscreen, mind on mine Veiled, obscuring Fate's sight When one alone, of others shorn Would sever these fragile strands; existence Fabric rent on bleeding thorn Then would the Darkness behind Blind, not add depth to Light © 1991, Aaron Brown
oh THAT aaron brown 