The Brown Eyed Dreamer

'Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.' William Wordsworth


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The Art of Living

I want to live a life full of colour and vitality,
A life full of potential and opportunity;
I want to get out and see the world
Feel foreign soil below my feet and smell
The strangeness of foreign air.
I want to fall in love with life and living,
With personalities, places,
Feelings and faces-
I want to discover.

I want to dance, sing, taste, smell, hear, see
The kaleidoscope of beauty that cascades
Through the air and ripples through the sea.
I want a life full of smiles and laughter,
A life where I wake up with wonder
And fall asleep with satisfaction gliding
On tired but smiling eyes;

And in my time of dying I want not
To think of ‘could have beens’ and ‘what ifs’;
In my final moments I want a familiar smile
To crawl across cracking lips, a smile that knows
‘I may have not lived a perfect life,
But I gave it a damn good shot.’


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Advice for Lost and Lonely Souls

If you ever feel sad turn your head to the sea;
Feel the morning breeze lace through your hair
Let problems slip like sand through open palms
And let the ocean’s cool, frothy fingertips
Caress your cheek and calmly, gently,
Carry your troubles away from shore.
If you ever feel lost bury your head in a book;
Fill your nose with the musty scent of yellowed pages,
Run your fingers along loved and weathered spines,
And swim deep down in a pool of words
To lands where adventure awaits you,
And lets you disappear.
If you ever feel empty fill your head with music;
Feel the melodies cascade across your bruised skin,
Let sweet serenades seal the cracks within your soul
And follow those soft, hopeful rhythms
With eyes closed and ears wide open;
Teach your heart to beat again.


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Memory of a Summer’s Night

A favourite memory of a fading summer was one
Of a warm bass note resonating in a darkening sky,
Where the night slowly cloaked a sea of bobbing heads and tapping feet
And the wafting scent of coffee and rings of cigarette smoke
Intermingled with the maze of music notes that lingered in the air
Long after each musician finished their piece.
Most of all I remember the crisp sweet air that whispered through trees
Above our heads, their branches swinging along with the swaying tunes
Almost as if they felt the music and were dancing with us
To the last few slow numbers of the night.

And somewhere between the calls of coffee orders and cries of one more song,
Between the rising crescendo of applause and the cascading fall of leaves,
Music fading along with the last ebbs of daylight
And silence falling upon the slowly emptying street;
Somewhere between I heard a promise-
That although this night would soon end
And the memory would fade from us,
Soon summer would come back again
With new nights there to greet us.


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A Small Thank-You

I’d just like to take a quick moment to thank everyone who has supported me in these past few months with everything I’ve been doing. Your feedback posts, your comments and your views have all helped me to remain positive about writing, and it’s nice to have a space on the internet I can let myself out and have people not judge. So to my parents, my friends, Dazed, Typewriters and Lyssa; thank you so much for keeping a smile on my face and never stop being yourselves, okay? 

I love you all and have a wonderful Autumn. 

~thebrowneyeddreamer


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Darling- A Letter of Hope

Darling, how could you want to die?
Times have been hard lately darling,
We can see the pain in your eyes-
But please don’t utter those horrible words;
Don’t tell us you want to die.

How could you want to die
When you have ears to hear music,
And feet to dance along?
When you have a head to feel life’s pain
And a heart to grow strong?

How could you want to die
With so many books to find and read
And so many waiting tales?
With so many paths to be uncovered
And so many seas to sail?

Darling, how could you want to die?
There’s still so much hope here
And it’s waiting outside your door,
Darling how could you want to die
When there’s so much in life to live for?


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Of Yesterday

Of yesterday I’ll remember,
The sharp brightness of February’s sun,
Cold air that cloaked two figures side-by-side,
Hands brushing like the whisper of the wind.
I’ll remember the hushed whir of a projector,
Shoulders touching gently in the dark,
Silent anticipation held in fleeting glances
And the fumbling of fingers on laps.
The sound of laughter will echo in my mind,
Of teasing, play-fighting and stupid faces,
And your eyes, your eyes bright in the sunlight,
Will remain long after memory fades.
I’ll remember a train ride home,
The sky fading to an inky shadow that cloaks
The world surrounding as fast as the cold,
Day fading slowly as shadows crawl in.
An arm relaxed around my shoulders,
Fingers braiding and unbraiding themselves,
In hands I had not known before,
And a soft, comforting voice beside me.
But most of all I’ll remember the moonlight,
The gentle creak of rusted swings in the breeze,
And your lips, your lips a breath from mine,
Then no distance left between.