Serpentine

    More fragment of tree
    than serpent
    clothed in wet
    he mirrors me
    bedraggled in stone
    cloak or so it seems
    this cavernous ledge coven.

    Is he witch's totem
    swimming at yard's length
    I can web reach him
    startling darts of rain
    cutting lagoon's edge
    this sedge & eel grass dragon.

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

Serenade

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

Entry Point

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

Silver Coins

Paul Cameron Brown, Simple Poetry

Adua

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.

Orange Lichens

    Orange lichens, in sun-like clusters,
    entomb the Rockface wall
    a sheer ascent from the waterline
    into glassy viscous green - -
    the plummet from skyward
    to lake face
    passes breathless squadrons
    of Dragon Flies
    - devil's Darning Needles
    threading the air
    where Wolf Spiders
    bivouac in web-castles,
    thin Draculas to their insect host
    each hairy mantle black
    with burrow moats at high watermark;
    yet unforeseen are the funnel lairs
    for bull snakes
    each water thrasher
    gracing the rotund, behemoth Rock
    lunging like a Spirit Presence up
    from this watery chalice.

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

Flood

    White ermine/white semen,
    green eyes jade from the night.

    Eternity falls in sparrow,
    an inch-worm down
    a pear-coloured leg,
    within this droplet
    lies coiled raptures
    of a snake,
    anointed coils
    musky as in woolen handshake
    where tributaries turn into socks
    wrapped to the vertebrae clasp
    of a teenager's leg.

    My fingers are
    frying skillets
    slow-boiling water, with precision,
    your rivers & chasms,
    a vagina white knuckle rafting
    across your enchantment.

Paul Cameron Brown

Naiad Trance

    The leaves on their trumpet flames
    Richter scale inside pulse stems -
    into the gorge, la gorge
    throat and crevice
    of the canyon arroyo.

    Walking the slit
    into rheumatism earth
    the twilight pain
    of Paleozoic ice,
    Jurassic Age
    whence rupture
    sculpted rock

    River precipice
    the afternoon dangling like shadow
    beside taiga sun
    lost to dark & rain
    toward the water now,
    ever, and chemical rushing sound.

    Chameleon, I would swear
    this journey was that,
    worse, sorceress on my emotions;
    I left pathways contoured with Merlin rock
    & trees like Babbitt refugees
    from the Nahanni,
    fearful Dogrib aboriginals
   ...

Paul Cameron Brown

Not So Much

    I evaded capture today
    with only a handful of dust
    to escape that Old Sandman Death.

    Certainly, those maroon berries,
    so large & luscious,
    crowded on their fat stems
    had something to do with it
    as did the ground fog
    leaving its burrow as so many boll-weevils
    their crowded nests.

    And there might be something to the fact
    the moonlight sat
    fat & confidant in the night sky
    as surely
    as my head rests on this pillow
    and the poem invites itself
    into my lair of thoughts,
    much as nestlings charge the
    entrance to the runway
    of a tree.

    I walked flat out
    in an instance
    as standing urine
    held its own stench
    an...

Paul Cameron Brown

The Draper's Cloth

    I imagine stars at the dragon's tail,
    eyelids ringing with butter.

    I want to brush palms as
    lightly as two sparks.
    take the wand of your waist
    in two plush hands
    with the pitiless gesture
    of a sparrow

    We part the leaves in breath,
    arouse trees in envy.
    I sense colours more vivid
    than your tongue
    after wine,
    explosions to cap the wind.

    To enter you in argument -
    a bough creeking in underbrush,
    svelte panthers hiding.

    And afterwards, sheets are open galleys,
    oarsmen ploughing breakers
    across both sea and night.

Paul Cameron Brown