Kevin Patrick Brown

Kevin Patrick Brown Poems

Was it God who ejected us into the blackness of the night
to rest alone in the dark on a tiny lost ball of dust?

Was it God who first lit the Sun to bring us light
and then later a final gift that let us find Love and Trust?
...

In my heart there are many corners
cluttered with those cast off moment of life

This corner here, filled with dejection
...

Dawn rose so slowly, my gift left within
Unknowing we parted, a mystery not told
Barely I had known you, but open up I did
I longed to discover what secrets that you hid
...

Her passionate mouth, it twisted and spat
These threads of her myth, they were woven and flat
The fabric was coarse and horrible to touch
Impossible to handle, no appendage could clutch
...

Were it that your heart was like a ripe morsel of fruit
waiting for loving hands to gently peel open the truth

Were it that your mind was like a treasured book
...

He hectored and proclaimed to the vast restless crowds
But near, out of sight, lay vast fields of shroud
His word were hollow, his heart would not follow
Outside his palace, a nation lay in ruins
...

What was gone, well spent, perhaps even extinct
What would come: a mystery, a riddle of time
The path lay before them, a dark labyrinth of chance
The raw heat of Hazard left Logic decayed
...

We swim and stroke and bathe in hope
At the surface we cannot see the hidden view,
nor can we know the width of the these seas
We know if we stop then we surely will be drowned
...

The rising sun clamored to push away
the last vision of a reflection of moonlight,
it's final glimmer, patient over the rising sea.
...

Love, a rough cable of steel
anchored in flesh, to bind
Two hearts together as one.
...

Passion is a raw wound that bleeds
But Time is a healer of all that
Cuts the flesh and saps the spirit.
...

Time is our ally in a race of faith,
where the pursuit enflames the spirit
and enlivens the senses, till we
can no longer bear the wait.
...

The future flows past our bodies
Depositing a raging vision of time.
Delicious crossroads of possibility;
Helpless, we reach eagerly to grasp
...

Your promise is a cloud; my fulfillment is the rain
Your pledge is the air; my reaction is the soil
My word is a shadow; your reverberations are the seeds
My need was an illusion; your echoes are unfolding
...

The length of a heartbeat was too much time to wait
as I stared into your eyes, my ears straining for news
that all was understood; let us go forward in time.
...

The past stood between them like some boiling pit of pain
as he begged her to bathe in the harsh scouring waters
that refused to recede.
...

The past has a long reach, a grip of hands grimed with clay,
We try to pull ourselves, aching, into the promise of the future,
but we pause, as we gather the courage to let slip the pull
regardless of the pain of parting from those who tilled the past.
...

I woke to the sound of a ship slicing the waters,
the sun not yet strong enough to light the room.
I looked at you resting in peace, the sleep of
the innocent, and suddenly the light touched your hair.
...

We bartered with desire, owing ourselves
a gift to be repaid in increments
that would measure out to the edge
of time itself, should ever it's value be taken.
...

I peered intently into your eyes, and shivered
when I understood what I was seeing.
The depths of Love are dark and mysterious,
but shimmer with light, yet somehow they never
...

The Best Poem Of Kevin Patrick Brown

East Of Eden

Was it God who ejected us into the blackness of the night
to rest alone in the dark on a tiny lost ball of dust?

Was it God who first lit the Sun to bring us light
and then later a final gift that let us find Love and Trust?

For everyday, we trust, we trust the Sun will rise
and some among cling to faith that a God loves them

And was it God who decided to gift us the ability to sin
to take our free will and choose anger and pain?

And when I chose anger and pain, and wandering alone
carrying the awful mark of Cain, lost somewhere east of Eden

Would I ever regain the love I knew once and the joy and yes
would I find again the trust in that Love, and win certainty?

What alchemist could mark on ancient scrolls the formulas of
faith and trust and love? Could he but then make magic?

As we stumble, our feet bleeding with cuts from the broken shards of trust
Can we but believe that Love can heal these awful wounds?

Can we choose to accept Love? Can we choose to cast out pain?
Can we choose to heal our wounds? Or are these choices a myth?

And wandering alone, are we here to find one another
and see the wonder and hope of sunrise and lead each other home?

The sun will always rise, and we will love again, somewhere East of Eden.

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