Colette

    The waitress mainlines
    the cup under the saucer
    balancing it on the
    waistband of her arm
    much as a junkie
    might tie a tourniquet.

    Wiping the glass edge
    of the table
    clear of croissant crumbs
    & watching the barely dry
    reflection of her own
    image going thru the emotions.
    the California chic
    pothouse & gardenia
    bloom effect of
    her work is enough
    to leave a dirty smear.

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

Between Two Stones

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

Begin And Beguile

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

Perhaps

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

Sleigh Bells

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Airbrush

    Iced coffee,
    wedge of toast -
    the sun poking thru
    cranberry glass
    delights exquisite Duchess of Berry,
    her decanters & an hourglass.

    Halo-hello in your fingertips
    I said,
    to a cadaver of light
    boldly striking a tuning fork
    to ring an engagement
    of gold flecks
    by your bed.

    Limoges vase
    for lace and pretty underthings
    for outside the stream
    steals my interest,
    wearing tumbledown silk pyjamas
    and a peek-a-boo smile that points
    thru reed curtains.

    A rustle from her chemise
    and sun parasol parts green boudoir
    draping shiny, black rock.

    The muddle of this earth-time puzzle,
    brief flutter to the eyelid...

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

The Jolly Tupper

    Sun on the eiderdown
    breaks tiny corners off the bedspread, declares green plants its bidding
    before summoning Fragonard's maiden
    off her swing - so richly dressed
    in picture from the sunlit wall.

    Expensive tabac from an imported humidor
    etches tiny leaves
    their stems as faces against the glass,
    rich aroma, trèsor, like the Jolly Tupper print
    preparing his bowl,
    drawing on the clay stem
    as if from a height watching ships come in.

    Smoke cold as blue fungus over outside buildings
    follows horses with hooves to split cobblestones
    stuck in the city's eye,
    more than mountains around
    the stone filled ravines
    of the rich man's heart.

Paul Cameron Brown

Equinox

    The four Equinox sisters,
    the one, Fox, streaked -
    all color, a blur
    a Bloomingdale's on fire,
    a wedge between Everest
    & her fortune.

    Samantha, the other
    dun-coloured
    earth-tide (in full bloom),
    blossoms vernally & literally
    busting out of her breeches with
    eyes like barely sugar.
    Jubilee. Fête de la vie.
    Lighthouse keeper beckoning twin
    shafts of warmth. Camberwell Beauty.
    Rattan Bar, shooting star.

    Carraciou (and castanet) an evening song,
    the most buxom but with dog days & tiresome moods
    flushed with heat.
    Tidewater in full ripple, a
    murmuring of abstract intelligence
    orchestrating summer's growth.
    Emerald keeper....

Paul Cameron Brown

Water Fast (The Pearl Fishers)

    Shopping in their heads
    - a man a pair of shoes
    right colour (tan, off-white) shape -
    only good physiques need apply,
    degree, tall;
    self-confidence a "must".

    Not yuppie, really,
    more consumerism as in
    I made the grade (she really
    thinks this; meanwhile, she's
    plump, dull).

    Standing in the showroom window,
    she spies the mirror image of herself.
    Your attitude is your altitude.
    Of course, he's "polished"
    (tho' not worn), urbane
    witty - this goes without saying.
    Well-travelled, maybe, though potential
    liability, here, suggestive of footloose.
    Restless. Perhaps given over to bouts
    of hedonism - a dangerous portent.

    Feel I've stumbled ba...

Paul Cameron Brown

Picaroon

Scouting the sun
thin clouds threadbare vests
barely to cover the horizon.
the heat or the day, canine,
a hot tongue's intensily
splashing yr face.

The docks are quiet,
prawn trawlers unloading gear
gar fish at the surface of the water
echoing little fins like
tiny waves green
into the shallows.

Bubbles anchor the lagoon    -
changing rivulets into sand
stone walls numbered in shards of glass
trade universal currency
but, beware, the proprietor
cobblestones up to his door,
a candle in the window-stoop,
a creeking gate opened as an afterthought.

Come the picaroon.
Spanish adventurer
lesser known rogue, thief
a smile like piano keys
huevos sent back.

I've seen the parfumerie
the snake pit,...

Paul Cameron Brown