Megan Slade

The sound of sewing machines

Trickles of rain
Slowly racing down
The window
I make a guess
At which drop will win
Some join onto others
and fall faster
Maybe this is cheating
But I’ve always turned a blind eye

My mother arranges herself
Foot ready, waiting
On the pedal

She has been gathering scraps and
Threads for a while now
To turn into masterpieces
A tomboy like me
Will never wear

I colour out of the lines
But she still tells me it’s beautiful
Without her even looking
Instead her eyes glisten as
The first seem has been made

The whirl of this machine
Sings a duet
With the falling rain

It’s just another Sunday.

Melvyn Browne

Havisham’s loss

Pitiful ugly witch with hatred of that loathed assassin of her heart

What course to take from life’s mistaken love to hide to run

Loves damage done to death these restless years

Talk till mind was dry; remember what was said, of nothing

No release as time cracked down, whilst flesh and bones reseed

Twisted thoughts not shared but for the mirror; which lies.

Stilted uncertain hand grasped tight, sticks polished handle.

Lent forward, back so bent nair straight again sat on withered hollowed chair

Fires sparking caught little of half closed eyes that weakened with the glow

Head moving to and fro. Old dress so loose on frame obtuse to change

Dusty strands, white so long, extinguished thoughts of golden tresses

No hope but end of ends itself, thence taken from, life’s lonely shelf

Melvyn  13^th September 2010

Melvyn Browne

Sacred                                                             14/5/2007

Thunder breaking from the ground

Swirling clouds of dust abound

Nostrils flair to acrid air

Suicidal brave may dare

Cuts from scorching bright to black

To return, is far away

Loaded near to breaking back

Through the night until they say

Machines of death and butchery

Made to shape our history

Only used when needs be?

Crushing forward, for liberty?

Do Christians go to war for gain?

For essence far below the earth?

Make reasons for to change our view.

Substantiating rumored lies?

Thousands now are dead

For what the politicians said

No greater liability

Than take my life away from me

Melvyn      14^th May 2007

Melvyn Browne

Trapped

Locked into the wilderness of your mind

How when or where you will never find

The exit closed as you went in

A million doors for that cardinal sin

Black or white you see all right

In colour too, all are bright

Action taken from your hand

Best get to grips and understand

Your trapped no other place to go

See you can but have no control

Travel to the farthest depths

No pain received, no one wept

Suspended in a labyrinth

Always sitting on the brink

Not your call, to even blink

You have been left, to only think

Trapped inside you own mind

Retribution, of the very worst kind

On show to the world, you are a cabbage

Educated, but you were a savage

Devised by those that hated evil

Were protecting all the other people

Who want a live without the strife

Won’t countenance those, that take a life

That injection they gave you, paralyzed

Every muscle of every size

You are doomed forever, to haunt yourself

For taking a life, from someone else

Ha Ha

Melvyn 1^st April fool’s day 2009

The moral of the story is

 there are far worse punishments than death

 trust me!

Melvyn Browne

11-11-11

Standing in the rain

Another year were here again

Lucky to be alive

Were here because you heroes died

Remember you? We cannot forget

Your sacrifice, in history set

To offer those who made it home

Freedom from a savage foe

What tortures suffered, heaven knows

From your blood spilt, a new world grows

But much as common man may like

Our leaders bring us back to fight

It is the greed, a fault of man

To take up arms and fight again

The glory that we once knew

Hard to believe, that it was true

Standing in the rain

Another year were here again

Since you gave your lives

There’s been more wars and millions died

Melvyn

19^th October 2008

Melvyn Browne

TITLE Havisham’s death                   

Sudden end to life’s expectations

Broken word like knife to heart

Bloody wretch would be a killing

For unkept promises

Introverted time stopped still

Rationale would love to kill

Detestation of his every fibre

For a thousand lies did tell

Mangled thoughts enveloping

All reason lost to hatred

Trapped inside an injured mind

For loathing of all mankind

A hundred years count every second

Frail and bent by fear and hate

Consolation from no quarter

For still being at the alter

End nigh with her

So sad a loss

Whole life forsaken

At last is taken

Melvyn  14^th September 2010  

Poetry (Reading)

ARTISTS STATEMENT The aim of my work is to detail the poignancy of the human condition, the national travesties that occur in form of warfare, heart break and desire. Through the medium of poetry and other forms of literature, I hope to evoke empathy in the spectator through the emotive nature of the written word

TELEPHONE 07904230365

EMAIL melvynbrowne@yahoo.com