Noir

Gradations of light,
Black on white,
White on black,
A monotone wellspring.
Unadulterated greys
Like weathered shingle.
A veritable placement
Atmospheric oddities,
Noir glimmers,
Flicker on the silver screen.
Taut tensions to tighten
The nightmare scene,
The sadistic thrill.
The hard boiled men.
Bomb shell blondes.
These major icons look out
From a bygone age.
Yet still they thrill.

P H Brookes 2012

poem by Paul Brookes
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October Song

When October comes
With its misty melancholia.
And trees of their leaves undress
In the cooling air.
When autumn chill settles;
A trickling stream into my bones.
When late roses lose their petals
And winters but a step away.
Then I think of you,
Who would never another winter see
Nor the first spring flowers
Or Feel summers warmth where you lie
For it does not penetrate that deep.

P H Brookes Copyright 2011

poem by Paul Brookes
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Map of you

My love for you;
Silently immutable.
A delicious caprice.
Sweet kisses honey wet.
An after taste of you.
A pretty kettle of fish
I dived in to you.
That electric union,
We move, automatic.
I know well the map of you.
We absorb each other,
Breathing as one.
We move in synchronicity.
Rise and fall, rhythmic
No rehearsal needed.
We become one.
The explosive discharge.
We lie locked.
Spent, we float
Wrapped in sleep.

poem by Paul Brookes
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Filed Away (Stream IX)

Finished filing
They file out.
File down the street,
Out of the offices.
Finished the offices of the day.
The light of day fades
Like their lives,
Pale imitations
Imitating a life fulfilled.
Filled up
With empty promises,
Not fulfilling their promise.
Each day they become thinner,
More transparent.
It's apparent.
Until one day,
They fade,
Fade away,
Disappear,
Are tidily filed away.

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poem by Paul Brookes
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An Act of Love (Stream VIII)

Joyful,
These lovers entwined.
Who lie together,
Lying side by side,
Beside the stream.
Upon the grass,
Under the tree,
Below the silver moon,
Beneath the starry sky.
Starry eyed with
Stars in their eyes,
They eye each other.
Lips meet lips
Honey sweet.
A sweet embrace.
In that moment
The world stops.
Joined as one,
One with the earth
In an act of love,

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poem by Paul Brookes
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He Called Father

He remembered that fear,
Shaking in bed listening.
He called son.
Hearing the druken man,
He called father.
The womans cries, the punches,
Slaps, blackend eyes,
On she called mother.
Burying his head in the pillow
To shut out the noise.
He remembers the comfort
The gentle hand and soft voice
Of she called sister.
But the scars lie deep
A nightmare that he runs from
In the black despair of night.
From He Called Father

poem by Paul Brookes
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Unblinkered

Somehow I lost myself
My spirit oozed away,
Trickled into illusion,
Greed its many faceted eyes
Had enthralled me....enslaved.
It greedily soaked me up.
Weighted me to the world
Chained by things, by want,
To slowly drown, ... eaten
The consumer, consumed.
Then you came, dancing,
Your fey spirit freed me.
You sliced the chains
With the sword of your love
Taught me to give,
Take only what Is needful,
My soul reclaimed.

poem by Paul Brookes
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Voice

Quiet, that time before dawn;
A moment betwixt night and day
Just before the sun cracks the horizon
To flood the earth with light.
Before the first birds sing their morning praise.
A time of silence and contemplation,
Before the bustle of the day intrudes
And shatters its passing beauty,
For in that moment if you listen close
So faint upon the trembling air,
So quietly and gently spoke
You may hear the creator's voice.

poem by Paul Brookes
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Pennine Sunset

The sun sets over the western hills
Infusing the low clouds, blood red.
The wind gently plys her deft fingers
Making dry grasses rap at her touch;
Rippling through the scant leaves,
Who bravely cling to bared branches
The last of summers children,
Soon to die, return to black earth.
The slow northern twilight
Diffuses in the autumn mist
The cool night descends velvet
The moon rises ascendant
To rule her nocturnal realm.

poem by Paul Brookes
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Dragon Smoke

This poison is honeyed,
A powerful intoxication.
A dulcet seductress calling softly,
I am the sirens call.
But I will consume you whole.
Chasing the dragons smoke
I am a burning sulfurous desire.
I run wild in your veins.
Yet I am an unfaithful mistress,
A promiscuous lover.
I leave you wanting more,
But my hunger cannot be sated.
Beware - for my embrace kills.
For I am the sweet smoke of death.

P H Brookes © 2012.

poem by Paul Brookes
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