Clifford Browder

Posted on: June 15th, 2016 by admin No Comments

Use This Day

Use this day
For love, for friendship, for rage,
For justice, for hope,
For worship, if your gods are worthy of it.
Use it
To build, to create,
To bring meaning,
To fight the void and navigate the flux.
Don’t shirk, don’t slouch.
Use it.
It will never come again.

 

Earth

I love the smell of it
The black oozy thick of it
Wormy and rich
Harboring seeds and roots and bones
Graveyards and spores
In my next existence I will grow things
Coax them out of her hot muggy thighs
Into joy and exuberance
Into sustenance and life.

Of the other elements
I can’t relate to air
Too flimsy, too vague
And I’m scared of fire
That leaps and darts and scorches
Having seen whole buildings
Flame up in a blaze
And know that water wants to drown me
Learning to swim
I splashed and sputtered, hated it
And once saw the body of a woman
Washed up on the shore of a lake
So lost, so cold, so still.

Yes, I’ll stick with earth
Don’t think
You can wiggle out of the Old Girl’s embrace
You cannot
She’s in your blood and bone
We came out of her
We’ll go back into her
The vast, messy, loving
Ruthless and inescapable
Big Mama of us all.

 

My Wild, My Calm

There’s something wild in me
That wants to shake things up
A demonic spring that wants to pump
The green fire of his seed
Into multitudes of rapturous virgins
Who wants to break windows of snug little homes
To shout, to run, to fly
To leap over gaping chasms
And scale vertiginous cliffs
Who wants to slay dragons or better still become one
Who wants to eat rare earths, speak in tongues
And annex the secrets of the universe.

There’s something calm in me
That smiles at my demon
Like a loving mother
At the antics of her raucous little boy,
A seeker who needs no
Rare earths, strange tongues, gaping chasms
Who walks gently, looks and listens
Finds wisdom in silence
Strength in grasses
Truth in trees
Who relaxes into the rhythms
The mysteries
And daily ecstasies of life.

 

Love Better, Love Deeper

Love better, love deeper.
Cut the frills,
The gaudy promises, the tinsel.

The best love is simple, quiet, undemanding
Like a mountain or a seed.

Its beauty lies under the surface
Like a submarine reef of red coral
Jutting spires and candelabras
While blue fish drift and dart.

The best love grows silently
Like mushrooms in the woods,
Like ferns, like roots
And blooms mysteriously
Like white flowers opening in the night.

The best love thrives
Where least expected
Like green sprouts
In the rotten wood of piers
Or molds on ancient stumps.

Though it toughens with time, in the beginning
It is soft, not hard and jagged,
Easily hurt.

When you love,
Love with caution and quiet,
With wisdom, no razzmatazz.
Love with calm and care.

 

Sadness

Sadness
Is the adagios and mellow gray of twilight
A loving touch.

I have seen it
In smiles of resignation
In muted yearnings for the unattainable
In shattered loves, futile hopes, quiet defeats
Final good-byes.

It is the landscape of our living
Time’s music
The price of our awareness of transience.
Don’t fight it, accept it
Ease into it, I’d almost say
Enjoy it.
It is our essence, our aura
The mark of our humanity
The measure of our loss.

 

Clifford Browder

Bio: I am a writer living in New York City. I have published two biographies, a novel, and a selection of posts from my blog (see link below) that has won two awards. My poetry has appeared in numerous small reviews. cliffbrowder@verizon.net

 

 

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