Regalia

If the rich are different
they show it with the
clarity of their table
as Scolt FitzGerald decreed,
the breathless hush
of their regalias,
the manner in which wedgewood &
crystal are cleaned to a
polished exactness    -
the shimmer of expensive china
no less repetitive than
the hulking boys
waiting in window stops;
monsoon rain pelting
the upper Punjab plains.

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

The Keeper Of The Jewel

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

The Nightlamp

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

Teeter-Totter

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

Whisky Girl

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

English

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Regalia

    If the rich are different
    they show it with the
    clarity of their table
    as Fitzgerald decried,
    the breathless hush
    of their garden regalias,
    the manner in which wedgewood
    crystal are cleaned to a
    polished exactness -
    the shimmer of expensive china
    no less repetitive than
    the hulking boys
    waiting in window stops,
    monsoon rain pelting
    the upper Punjab plains.

Paul Cameron Brown

The Treasure Ships

Rich ornamental procession
enough wealth to dazzle a Prester John,
Sheba's queen, even the fawning
burghers of Rothschild's domain.

Reams of it,
Park Avenues in
torrents down a mountain side;
Eldorados,
the gardens of Babylon become shimmering in the sun;
this vulgar display,
this sheer ostentation.

Such are the waters of the rich I now approach.
Peach gold fabulous wealth.
More men of substance here
than all the proverbial luxury since antiquity,
- talents, ingots, ducats - bars
so heavily encrusted with gems
the very floor boards groan
with the largesse.


Never a Buddha's tooth
Pierpont scheme,
crown
or outstretched finger
did circumnavigate
more treasure
than this eye
swelling around

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

Offerings (A Movement In Four Parts)

The night is folly without the moon,
trees blank space against a frontal sky
where lattice work from a bled fish reveals
skeletal markings will not administer
the red jack of hearts to a mistress sea.

Most fickle, the ways of a cockroach
(I don't recommend them) to offerings
of white linen, cold squares atop
a stone diamonded floor.

Palaver shacks drone in ghostly light
communicating some message about eel runs
up the black river, the equivalent brush
of tombstones against dark nightsoil.

Tiny bars open as cubicles.
proverbial flashes of the coming evening,
haciendas to count every blessing.

The road to such places
snarls a dusty pleasure
and will heat thin blood
to boil in the daylight hours.

II

Swe...

Paul Cameron Brown

Palais Royale

The night cold as nuggets, dark as acorn,
against your chest; snow falling
like abandoned echoes releasing energy
into the spyglass, umbrella moon.

A solitary figure trapping hapless sparrows
not in a net but with his footprints
doubling as dungeons against the sun    -
here & there rusting eavestroughs ballooning
into avenging shadows their harpsichord voices
spun on dreams Dick Whittington once used to buy a cat.

And once Tom Thumb Upstaged Peter Pan by appearing
under a petunia but this is not likely to happen soon.

The dawn, forlorn & grey, is a court muffin's handkerchief
waved at a sailor far out at sea.

Paul Cameron Brown

Bravura

    Memory as embankment,
    a mudslide at High Tide
    with shades up...
    my avocado green brethren
    pleasures the soil.

    Memory as enchantment
    a Belle at a Soiree,
    pureed, Gaston at a Dinner Party.

    Napanee suggests sympathy,
    a serendipity...
    as water winders its way
    to clay in a moonlight
    turn of the bottle,
    I shall find a way.
    that's ironclad.

Paul Cameron Brown