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 &
    storm blasts for billowy mists
    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 -
    faeryland syrupy,
    tasting of apricot and sugar cane;
    a swallow parting indigo sky.

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

Alcatraz

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

Shivaree

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

Fortress Snow

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

The Jolly Tupper

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.

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

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

The Necklace Garden

    For my part, I spied red berries
    on a currant bush
    lush in August;
    the canopy of leaves
    a nesting place for hornets
    clocking one hundred
    in & out of their ice-castle hive.
    Birds had fled in horror,
    there was a pallor
    around the sun
    and nearby a Hubbard squash
    grew like Topsy
    already several baskets in size.

    I threatened suicide
    in this herbivorous garden
    amid wild canaries and butternuts;
    my jangled nerves a lobster colour
    only calmed by more grievously
    afflicted tobacco hornworms,
    their skins pierced by the radar alum
    of wasps.

    Transformed into insect angels
    strumming away the afterlife,
    they arrived as ghosts to c...

Paul Cameron Brown

Passageways

    Greet the days -
        greet the moon,
            gather the stars.. .
    Man is not at one with himself -
    collars the infidel ways of his
    race under pressure domes of widening silence.

    I scan the horizon barely cognizant
    of the metallic bits that pierce
    the night's crown - no
    jewelled orb stabs this queen's spectre.
    I am running and lost. . . ever slow
    to breech this reasoning.

    Honeysuckle mist with armfuls
    of orange lilies with scent stronger
    than the carriage needed in their gathering.

    Place the constellations upon their heads,
    the colour so transcends.
    And then there are the bludgeoned
    stars fallen into the eyes of
    my farmhouse scene.
    The sphin...

Paul Cameron Brown

The Gingham Dream Utterance

    As I watch the clouds assemble, steam-ship fashion, with funnels to
    alert passersby, I realize the Romanovs tore silk & riches from
    every bazaar leaving the bright spot of this evening studded with emerald marks.
    A dot in the ocean is a spark upon which minnows play, their silver
    bellies upturned to imitate the moon's white shawl.

    I am wanting in the delights of the reef narrowly hauled from
    rambunctious depths, the tiniest splashes of green, yellow, blue darting in an upturned fish's tail.
    An octopus rock commands squadrons of fingerlings while the eisel
    fish decorates a steeper, coral garden.

    Jet black sand crowns the lagoon volcanic ages' past the innocence
    of this spurting palm while mounds of pitch dark ants deposit slivers o...

Paul Cameron Brown

Shamrock

    Is there anything prettier than that -
    to stare into your manifold spaces
    toward the hook & vine
    of cathedral leaps,
    the vaults & crypts
    as go-betweens of an earthy worship,
    the supine female form?

    By quiet pools,
    thrush in the thicket
    with red berry behind its eye,
    miniature sun
    proceeding by the branch
    to undress the bark
    with leaves as
    passionate culprits
    kissing dark.

    Clasped hands
    upward lies the sky
    my masterpiece angel,
    I bite lush meadows,
    tread spongy brooks,
    endear daring small of back,
    crevice taste nape and neck,
    a beatific pilgrim nearing
    a fleshy way-station,
    first charting his co...

Paul Cameron Brown