The Brownie Box Camera | Poems of Despair

 

A Face of Despair Behind Rusty Lens

“An old Brownie Box camera becomes
a mind's prison where memory fades”

I'm captive in a prison—
a Brownie Box camera—
old, rusty, silent.

It is locked but I cannot—
—or perhaps I don’t want to—
remember where I put the key.
Do I even have the key?

Apology - Poems of Despair

Poems of Despair

You took my burden
from an early age
on your young shoulders.

Old Stories - Melancholy Poems

 

The rivers surged—first blood.

Your naked scent,ripe red strawberries in June,

bread and wine on Primrose Hill.