Red Illusions Under Glass

    Life as green illusion -
    the cool fronds of the fern
    are deep set in firmest soil
    and the grassy narrows
    brook a silent, liquid play.

    Red illusions under glass -
    quietly picking strawberries
    where a woman hums to
    the buzz of flies
    with the afternoon sun disappearing overhead.

    Each grasp of the berry
    a red stain, the darting of seeds,
    crimson tendrils do confuse the eye
    with a polka dot starling raucous
    in glee above.

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

Perhaps

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

The Elysian Fields

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

Windfall

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

Cold Passion

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.

Magpie Tongues

    Trillium breath, an ounce
    of feathered growth unravels
    in the cloves of the silent forest.
    The rain is heavy with the stamp
    of perfumed trees realizing
    slight restraint on bursting seed.

    Cloaked in fragrance, tufts
    of mossy step kiss the opening earth,
    a basement horizon presumes
    the darling test of flower
    across dale & rustling nook,
    then undresses moist greenery
    with sumptuous eye.

    The last is hardest -
    cat crimson, a fire weed sunset lotion,
    the rain erased away;
    nobody special harangues the leaves
    but birds steal in quietly with
    tenderness clothed of verdure
    to pinch a leafy oasis about
    their forest haunt.

Paul Cameron Brown

Sweet Water

    The leaves lie hidden as spades about their home.
    Brief movement of a kitten, then silence
    till the car's engine drones.
    Close by, a pioneer cemetery sits near a secondary wood.

    Queer is the effect of sun on a tinted roof;
    bluebells with poppies,
    cowslip and tiny brook
    back of
    fields redden and
    given to wheat.

    A house is a machine
    processing the water of living
    a replenished cistern,
    birds paying a call, a minor animal
    brushing past
    an ivy-railed fence.

Paul Cameron Brown

Green Angellights

Green angel lights
stream from the willow tree,
in direct symmetrical bearing
three birds are drawn to it.

In gold, soft patches
of light overreach
the earth,
shadows trace ridges
to surround each teak blown colour.

With fakir lowliness,
the throb of water
takes petals from
the sun,
shimmers its passing breath
to a euphony sobbing
in movement.

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

Bloodstream

Camping out, a miraculous thing happened.
The kaleidoscope of vision was focused on a precipice,
caught endangered water about to fall
under microscopic attention.

Moisture was shortlived; so, too, congealed lava sheets
& bedrock over which the water flowed.
The cabin in the distance seemed prisoner to mist
while a rainbow gathered its wits for the next performance.
Nowhere did leaves intrude though a fly made
headway up a glass pane
embedded in wood like antidiluvian plants have been
known to seek amber.

In their chorus, other flies droned then ran up & down the ledge.
In the iate sunshine of the day, a bastardized vision of dirt farmers,
pioneers imprisoned in similar toil.

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