Verse is not my preferred suit but I do produce it. M.L.E. Brown's poetry tends to be longer and darker than the lighter 4-line offerings of her counterpart, the consistently up-beat KuetaB (see page). All samples below are attributable to and property of M.L.E. Brown NZ Author. Notes for some poems are included below. ALL photos are property of M. L. E. Brown Photoscribe.
INCOMPLETE FRAME
Spring sang a
perfect yellow
and so I stopped to listen
As I looked,
It sounded like an oboe,
like a signet, neck extended;
Like the taste of fresh grapefruit,
Shy, awake, and curious.
I tried to steal the sound of
That tingling yellow note
But I couldn't
Here is it's skin instead.
Spring sang a
perfect yellow
and so I stopped to listen
As I looked,
It sounded like an oboe,
like a signet, neck extended;
Like the taste of fresh grapefruit,
Shy, awake, and curious.
I tried to steal the sound of
That tingling yellow note
But I couldn't
Here is it's skin instead.
N.B: I am a keen amateur photographer. 'Incomplete Frame' expresses the frustration I think every photographer feels from time to time, simply not always able to do justice to the impact of a given instant.
THE SENTENCE
I promised not to tell about
hands and tongues
and whispers in the night
You made me a prisoner,
a poisoner,
conspiring my own piracy ...
I promised not to tell about
tears and anger,
terrors in the night,
You made me a Judas,
a jackass,
my own judge and executioner ...
I promised not to tell about
sleeplessness and godlessness
and nothingness come creeping.
Riddling my decades with
your double-edged salvation.
I promised not to tell
And you - you heard me praying,
Coughing bile and catechisms,
Sobbing incantations ...
You prised my shoulders straight
And told me to speak louder -
Oh, you supervised my prayers;
But when it came to answering
You sent the Devil in
And made me promise
Not To Tell
I promised not to tell about
hands and tongues
and whispers in the night
You made me a prisoner,
a poisoner,
conspiring my own piracy ...
I promised not to tell about
tears and anger,
terrors in the night,
You made me a Judas,
a jackass,
my own judge and executioner ...
I promised not to tell about
sleeplessness and godlessness
and nothingness come creeping.
Riddling my decades with
your double-edged salvation.
I promised not to tell
And you - you heard me praying,
Coughing bile and catechisms,
Sobbing incantations ...
You prised my shoulders straight
And told me to speak louder -
Oh, you supervised my prayers;
But when it came to answering
You sent the Devil in
And made me promise
Not To Tell
Verse ©MLE Brown Awhitu NZ 201
'The Sentence' was written upon the conviction and sentencing of Australia's Cardinal George Pell on charges of historic sex crimes against children. My father was groomed and molested by a Catholic priest. The consequences for him and for our family still echo 100 years later. I maintain a deep personal antipathy towards the artificial sexual 'orthodoxies' demanded by the church of its clergy in particular and its followers in general. It is demonstrable that these teachings - along with criminally undynamic and collusive leadership - have contributed to widespread mental illness, corruption, and social disruption both within the clergy and over wider society.
ALZHEIMER'S
Dismantling your clock:
Strip off the face, the wider frame,
Leave the wheels and pistons ...
Cuckoo! you shriek, and then,
Chime, chime, chime,
Ever louder, losing time,
No defence, making more and less sense.
The plaques attack the meat
Of memory and thought
But not the sinews, tense and fraught.
I note the way
The machine beneath your skull
Is tracked to hone,
Grind repeat grind repeat
TIck-tock, tick-tock
Hard-wired games and prejudices
Incorruptible, indestructible,
Sticking out and gleaming
Like your long white bones.
It doesn't make any difference now
Except to see you clearer
And all the better to hear you.
Dismantling your clock:
Strip off the face, the wider frame,
Leave the wheels and pistons ...
Cuckoo! you shriek, and then,
Chime, chime, chime,
Ever louder, losing time,
No defence, making more and less sense.
The plaques attack the meat
Of memory and thought
But not the sinews, tense and fraught.
I note the way
The machine beneath your skull
Is tracked to hone,
Grind repeat grind repeat
TIck-tock, tick-tock
Hard-wired games and prejudices
Incorruptible, indestructible,
Sticking out and gleaming
Like your long white bones.
It doesn't make any difference now
Except to see you clearer
And all the better to hear you.
Verse ©MLE Brown Awhitu NZ 201
SIREN
Watching her was to see some
Christmas tree step serenely
Out of a tornado, look round,
And ask for a tuna sandwich
O, such style, such glamour,
All in this back-water town:
Enough skulfuckery to last
The whole millennium -
Thank God, I'll soon
Be dead, he said.
Watching her was to see some
Christmas tree step serenely
Out of a tornado, look round,
And ask for a tuna sandwich
O, such style, such glamour,
All in this back-water town:
Enough skulfuckery to last
The whole millennium -
Thank God, I'll soon
Be dead, he said.
Verse ©MLE Brown Awhitu NZ 201
THE HEALING
Despise my lack of fury
But my objective's won.
But journey was to still
My jerking knees and thoughtless tongue
Now my arms are longer,
Much readier now to hug
And draw in all the world, my dears,
Less keen to strike and judge
And now my reach is longer,
I strike less but I aim
Straight for the throat and mean it
And sleep's an easy gain.
Despise my lack of fury
But my objective's won.
But journey was to still
My jerking knees and thoughtless tongue
Now my arms are longer,
Much readier now to hug
And draw in all the world, my dears,
Less keen to strike and judge
And now my reach is longer,
I strike less but I aim
Straight for the throat and mean it
And sleep's an easy gain.
Verse ©MLE Brown Awhitu NZ 201
NB: When you enter a healing journey, healing seems a long way off. Then once you've reached your objectives, the rewards are not necessarily what you might expect.The point is that the process IS hard and you ARE actually supposed to change ...
The Planting: ANZAC Day 2019
My blind faith and your future:
Hunch-shouldered, crouched,
Back braced against the tempest,
I shield these from the icey surge;
From freezing gales and drowning snows.
I picture the forest, smell warm oak
Cedars, eucalyptus, palms ...
Kauri, pohutukawas, and more -
A live phalanx, breathing faith and vision,
Shoulder to shoulder
Entwined, yet standing free.
I will never walk beneath it's shade
But I know its scent will be
Sublime.
Voices argue, blame and mock
Even as we churn hard earth,
Row upon row of us.
You will judge us by our clothes
And hindsight, while we spin,
Bewildered in our graves.
But if we all peer across time
Look - there will be that thread
Fragile but unyielding ...
A vision, a dream, a spell,
Even should the colours, scents and words
Defy mutual recognition.
Doubt not our intentions nor your own.
Was it worth it, our hard work, you may ask.
Know if your future keeps planting
We, all, will whisper happy from the shade -
My Oath, It Was.
Verse ©MLE Brown Awhitu NZ 201
My blind faith and your future:
Hunch-shouldered, crouched,
Back braced against the tempest,
I shield these from the icey surge;
From freezing gales and drowning snows.
I picture the forest, smell warm oak
Cedars, eucalyptus, palms ...
Kauri, pohutukawas, and more -
A live phalanx, breathing faith and vision,
Shoulder to shoulder
Entwined, yet standing free.
I will never walk beneath it's shade
But I know its scent will be
Sublime.
Voices argue, blame and mock
Even as we churn hard earth,
Row upon row of us.
You will judge us by our clothes
And hindsight, while we spin,
Bewildered in our graves.
But if we all peer across time
Look - there will be that thread
Fragile but unyielding ...
A vision, a dream, a spell,
Even should the colours, scents and words
Defy mutual recognition.
Doubt not our intentions nor your own.
Was it worth it, our hard work, you may ask.
Know if your future keeps planting
We, all, will whisper happy from the shade -
My Oath, It Was.
Verse ©MLE Brown Awhitu NZ 201
HANGOVER SKY
Grey and pink
Bloodshot blue
Trying to focus true,
Emerged unwilling from the night.
The city's face, all bone and stubble,
Stark in dawn’s unkindly light -
Don't look, don't look
But from my nook
Aloft my sand-dune to the west
I watch it come to life,
Eschewing rest
To gulp collective caffeine
Forcing eyelids-wide
Farting fumes and irritation
Pushing sleep aside
It's bull-run of commuters
Gas, pass harrass each other,
Turned on by their computers,
They turn on keys in cars and tills,
Espresso makers, pneumatic drills,
Tanning machines ...
The sun, not jealous,
A functioning addict
Brainwashed, zealous,
Blinks awake, turns up the heat,
All good, all sweet
We've got this
Another day
All dream-state doubting burned away …
Grey and pink
Bloodshot blue
Trying to focus true,
Emerged unwilling from the night.
The city's face, all bone and stubble,
Stark in dawn’s unkindly light -
Don't look, don't look
But from my nook
Aloft my sand-dune to the west
I watch it come to life,
Eschewing rest
To gulp collective caffeine
Forcing eyelids-wide
Farting fumes and irritation
Pushing sleep aside
It's bull-run of commuters
Gas, pass harrass each other,
Turned on by their computers,
They turn on keys in cars and tills,
Espresso makers, pneumatic drills,
Tanning machines ...
The sun, not jealous,
A functioning addict
Brainwashed, zealous,
Blinks awake, turns up the heat,
All good, all sweet
We've got this
Another day
All dream-state doubting burned away …
Verse ©MLE Brown Awhitu NZ 201
NB: One of my favourite local spots is high up on the cliffs above the lighthouse. On a clear day you can see back to the city. While I enjoy the view, I don't miss living there in the slightest. In fact this is how I feel looking at it now ...