Chance Upon

    As she's lying there in sherbet panties
    looking somewhat disaffected, a nez perce
    expression bordered by sleep,
    think of the Sultan's regalia
    his entourage of kings
    chance upon dark laughter from Saladein's[1] concubines,
    Nell's[2] white turn of the knee
    or the pretty bosom of a Confederate
    officer's belle . . . all satin & lace ...
    perhaps, again, the splendid neck
    of Titian's choicest nude.

    To further turn the phrase,
    ponder a basket of fruit -
    the sexual omnipotence
    of its texture a dreamy sensuality
    thickened by red Emperor grapes
    ripened against the elongated nails
    of a Pompadour's[3] milk white hand.

    [1] Richard the Lion Hearted's adversary
    [2] The Merrie Monarch's favourite mistress
    [3] Louis xv's courtesan and adviser

Paul Cameron Brown

Paul Cameron Brown is a Canadian poet known for his extensive work in both poetry and art criticism. Born in western Canada, Brown has had a prolific career in writing, often intertwining themes of human experience and nature. His works have been showcased in various literary magazines and anthologies. With a style that is both reflective and evocative, he has gained recognition not only in Canada but also internationally.

Paul Cameron Brown

Rogue And Privateer

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

Carnival And Lent

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

Comments

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

Investiture

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

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Lolita Gardens

    A man weeps at your ankles,
    climbs the stairs to peek-a-boo
    panties, with finger clasps,
    a Rapunzel lowering your hair,
    the long-matted braids
    a skilful weaver turns to gold.

    An ivy forest in
    a castle impregnated with doors,
    the prince overhears the code
    "let down your hair" and,
    with perilous grasp,
    mounts the stirrup wall,
    foot to clasp,
    searching cloud grey &
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    green within this empress queen.

    Walking plasticine ledge
    in the shower with a mermaid
    soaping her perfumed treasure trove,
    at an intersection within that woman,
    her tulip trees explode -
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Paul Cameron Brown

Pastiche

    These shell-queens, too,
    are blithely catpaws,
    shorn & musky acorns with
    indexed fingers erect
    at manicured attention.

    II
    ... Showboats with green faces far as swallows fly,
    a lilac in oasis ... scarlet bream
    ... blue ointment where the ocean is
    periwinkle patches,
    a robin's egg clarity pressed
    between blue-nosed tavern wall
    & bottles clinking.

    III
    See plush cords,
    the suede interior
    svelte & slinky
    an upholstery simonized
    with natural springs where
    bubbles encounter founts
    in apertures, the rich measure
    of open ground or mezzanine curtain
    slit along a riverine walk
    & jungle clearing.

    IV

Paul Cameron Brown

Moonrock

    She wears a cat encrusted T-shirt
    & panties with L*O*V*E
    guarding the Paradise door
    & when balm of night
    casts shadows,
    her face is moonrock
    distant to mysterious
    down storybook crags;
    her darling form cloaked
    in twilight garments
    of an inky earth.

    Gates of Venus,
    . . . as if feline whiskers
    whispered, wan cat eyes
    in amber dark glowed pale honey
    in alchemy or blur of soft movement
    was caress to stars' elopement
    with the sky.

    This woman summons fire,
    stokes furnaces to quicken parchment leaves
    of flame-thick desire,
    honed soft on ripples
    skin tones were curvaceous
    drift of oars, vivacious breast on buttock's

Paul Cameron Brown

Godiva

    Lingerie,
    black pumps
    a navel creamy enough
    to drown a kitten -
    the clothes assemble
    in microwave fashion
    - crackle of fire -
    the silver pants zoom across legs
    with curves so caress bound
    a formula racing driver
    might tumble.

    As eyes rise
    in jade lantern face
    & hair is brushed
    with all sheen aside,
    the lady is more than
    a Godiva
    or Goldwyn-Mayer cinematic production,
    this oasis of sparks,
    twin peaks of McKinley-Matterhorn fame,
    her calendar of words
    pulling Oil of Olay
    & perfumed honey thru
    each studied remark.

Paul Cameron Brown

Desire

    Sleep is a striking woman
    accosted by various men
    while in a dance;
    the warring desires thus
    present themselves as on
    a battlefield -
    hunger comes arrayed with
    red plumes to befit
    his appetites,
    sensuality somewhat
    decked out as a dandy
    in a mauve waistcoat
    and, of course, there is
    Fear, the most thwarted
    of the suitors, bejewelled with a
    flashing sabre, rattling it from
    the tail of his skinny stick horse,
    the pale charger riding
    to intercept the beautiful courtesan
    Sleep
    bestowing her favours illicitly
    wherein she would but choose.

Paul Cameron Brown

Tank-Top

    I was playing sonatas on your skin -
    no beauty & the beast scenario
    though the Tower pulchritude was intact
    with enough purple agape grape leaves
    and ivy for a fig-leaved Eve
    with wind wet at the windows
    (and later the willows),
    where gravelly, cloven hooves became party
    to my thoughts; for you,
    blessed with a triangular patch,
    - and something like strawberry -
    lay moist & woven into strict tapestry
    like a mantle covering
    abrupt oasis of skin
    (the better to peer in).

    I scaled the heights
    not castle vaults, mind you,
    but the elevator shaft and draw-bridge equivalent
    of a white charger -
    fierce visor in place
    - armour gleaming -
    a sabre ...

Paul Cameron Brown