Poet,MichaelD.Brown

Tangent Every Mountain I ever knew pointed directing me to sky, away from the total sum of water and Earth. Some would say, "Catch a cloud, they circle back in intervals whenever fog mistakes snow for sheep:" The mountains run together in herds. Stairs step for climbers who flock to big hills: Flock... Sign in to see full entry.

.......//////...... kiss the child with a hug they always reciprocate dance with the youth that is yours and theirs to spend time doing every wonder and wonderful thing together for memories won't hide when other things lose time as a commodity more important than our money. Than the hurry that we... Sign in to see full entry.

.......This is the third posting today...... The poet has reception in his rabbit ears; ears that point to God, that listen to the Spirit in the breath of wind brushing words on my palate for a taste; sweet enough for you to be honey in my wild oats - to be sticky on my lips smacking joy. I love the... Sign in to see full entry.

Eulogy Race toward death slow enough to enjoy living in this one and only, once and forever, one day, each and every day connected to the Earth as sojourner passing by no rumbling in your trajectory truer in the purity of joy of hoping your passing is more than just passing through. Michael D. Brown Sign in to see full entry.

.......... Agonizing Ecstasy The harsh winter months removed July sand from the beach. Losing love in the August of summer heat... burns bikini lines past the tide washed horizon of every shore buried in its echo inside every seashell acquainted with the litany of grief. Michael D. Brown Sign in to see full entry.

Enough Time Never meant to mislead with a promise that ends with forever or death parting as a matter of protocol. Words follow instructions whether they mean what they say or not. Yes can be no and never becomes maybe given enough time. Michael D Brown Sign in to see full entry.

This is the title to my next poetry collection. Hopefully it will be ready soon. Choreographing Words When poetry is a dance the truth becomes a tango between the paper and the pen: they never stop touching, both index fingers pointing like God: Father pointing, Son pointing, Finger tips touching.... Sign in to see full entry.

The charge of horses mimic thunder. Hoofs spark lightening without rain. The night proves an ample flint When letters from Hamlet came Is this some abuse? Is there some shame? Did he love his father? Or was it abated in his own too much And who can calm his rage? Michael D. Brown Sign in to see full entry.

The charge of horses mimic thunder. Hoofs spark lightening without rain. The night proves an ample flint When letters from Hamlet came Is this some abuse? Is there some shame? Did he love his father? Or was it abated in his own too much And who can calm his rage? Michael D. Brown Sign in to see full entry.

You can purchase some wonderful gifts that showcase my poetry. The address is https://www.Cafepress.com/poetrygiftsmdb Check it out I'd like to know what you think. You can sell at no cost. This wonderful site allows you to create your own products and showcase your art work. I have sold my books... Sign in to see full entry.