"Message From Within"

Why is there hatred that is so blind

Why do we treat ourselves in others so unkind

Why do we hate a man for color of his skin

Why won't we listen to our Message from Within

Why is there one man who loves all selflessly

And yet another man who'll hate you for your creed

Their difference isn't 'bout the colors of their skin

It's if they've listened to their Message from Within

Oh come on people lets give a try

To work together for you and I

To have our better world at first we must begin

To pay attention to our Message from Within

If I could write the song your heart would not deny

I'd sing my song of love to open up your eyes

If I could sing for you a song to make you grin

I'd sing my song of love my Message from Within

DON'T QUIT

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,

When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,

When the funds are low and the debts are high,

And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,

When care is pressing you down a bit,

Rest, if you must, but don't you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,

As every one of us sometimes learns,

And many a failure turns about,

When he might have won had he stuck it out;

Don't give up though the pace seems slow-

You may succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than,

It seems to a faint and faltering man,

Often the struggler has given up,

When he might have captured the victor's cup,

And he learned too late when the night slipped down,

How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out-

The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,

And you never can tell how close you are,

It may be near when it seems so far,

So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit-

It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.

Author Unknown

I first saw this as a child in the late 1960's, early 1970's....it's so sad that such an insightful and talented author would go down in history as 'unknown'.

Mystical it is

To see water stretch past land

In the chill of morn

So sad is the wind

Brushing endlessly past reeds

Then hopelessly gone

By: Craig Brohan (1971) ℗ 2021 Master Muse Records

As the mind wanders.......

"Faces Of Me"

I see the faces of me in the faces of you all are faces I've used

From faces of happiness to ones abused I've {choosed}

I find the traces of me in those faces of you faces I wish we'd lose

From faces of bigotry to lusting hate and greed

Faces of hate and war of you these faces I implore

To do away with all those {negativities}

Faces of love and peace of you these faces I beseech

For the dawn of this new age with all its possibilities

I see your faces in me I see my faces in you

Some are loving some cruel

Some may be dying others being born anew

You wear your faces of me I wear my faces of you

Reflecting our points of view

Though faces of selfishness are ones most often [choosed]

As though I've had your eyes I've witnessed many varied sides

The struggle of what's right and wrong goes on and on and on

As though I've lived your lives I'm feeling all you've felt inside

The only difference 'tween you and me is the face we choose to be

I see faces of me

“Every lusciously curvaceous angle holds delight for he who falls helplessly beguiled by the awe inspiring beauty of her physique. Drawn closer with every heartbeat, he breathlessly succumbs to her muse, releasing tortured sculpture, poem and song. In other words.....................damn, she's hot!”

— Craig Brohan '21

Precious Fragrant Elegant

a thing of beauty

As a rose So my wife

The Queen

By: Karl Brohan

The Queen.
You hear her long before she is seen.

Brisk footsteps signal a royal pace.
In only moments, we will see her face.

She enters, erect and head held high.
People pause and take notice, to see what is nigh.

Her image is regal and commands attention.
This is no interruption, but a royal intervention.

She moves about with elegance, seldom seen.
Silver hair, a smile and blue eyes that gleam.

Engaging conversation endears her to many.
Witty dialogue for all, she won't miss any.

Orders were issued, in the Court of the Queen.
To disregard, soon brought punishment, to the scene.

"The boy, an instigator", the nuns all said.
"The devil has his ear", they said with dread.

In Church, a bored fidget, or squirm,
warrants a nail clad grip, I soon learn.

As a child I wonder my Mother's intent.
My mischief, I realize, will soon be spent.

Her eyes round, an expression of anger,
my foolish fun, has put me in danger.

Her composure ended, French ire inside.
She sounds like a French sailor, as I try to hide.

Banished to my room, with fear in my mind,
I wait for Dad to come home, and tan my behind.

Discipline, discipline, march to the fife.
All that regal order, has molded my life.

With diligence and hard work, my success was had.
The Queen's discipline, I realized, was not something bad.

I look back many, many, years ago.
Thank You, Mom, for your Queenly show.

Notes: Written for my Mom, Alice Brohan. She had a golden heart and was a disciplinarian. But then, she had to deal with the likes of me! Mom had an elegant, royal demeanor when mixing with guests. As a child, however, failure to obey or otherwise follow an order brought out "The Red Queen." It was at this point you learned what it was like to annoy a French sailor......she could swear a blue streak in French as she was chasing you around!

Karl Brohan

20 August 2013