To keep a poet happy
First off... naturally...
You must give him time
Time to write
Time to rhyme
And three square stanzas
Every day
Keeping his writer's block
At bay...

His pen and paper
Must be fixed
Or a computer
In the mix
A thesaurus
A rhyming dictionary
Or perhaps the classic writing
Of a visionary...

Don't forget the light
To see his words
You also have to listen
He wants to be heard!
Some structure and a clock
To see the time
Avoid writer's block
And help him rhyme...

Here is the recipe
For his feeding
If he has the block
He needs to be eating!
A pinch of metaphor
A splash of color
An image or two
Then add another!

But dissing folks
Has NO allure...

Nobody wants to eat

MANURE !!!


The Girl Who Loved.You
SoulSurvivor
(C) October 10, 2014

Each season comes and goes, the beauty of it all

The storms of life, make me sit upright

The tears that are shed and they hold me tight

Takes my heart, makes me fight

As the moon rises, and wind blows long

I am tucked in bed, and I know just know...

Debbie


There is a reason for every season

nothing everlasting, yet we cling

every storm, followed by a calm

the seed that breaks, only sprouts

the heart that breaks, germinates

But for you and me... No season, no reason...

Rupal

The path I take, will always be the wind mills

Of time, but my heart can only take so much

As each time I am shoved from these trying times

I beg I cry, to let me find, let me die

but then I see words in the sky that show me

how my friends, how the world can be

and then there was you, a dear sweet friend

from across the world but so near to me ...

Debbie

Familiar paths I will not choose

neither follow nor will lead

People come, people go...

Maybe reason, maybe season

It's not per chance you and I met my friend

HE.. who knows what I need, before I know

Sent me a friend, so near, so dear

And Just a click away...

Rupal

By: Debbie Brooks and Rupal

Don't seek shelter from the storm, life is about rebuilding.

~

Cascading down the mountainside
The crystal waters free
Flowing forth to quench this thirst
So deep inside of me

In perfect stance I hear the rush
A shimmer faithful glow
To hear the splash of all that’s good
Now falling down below

So white of foam and ripples pure
I wade in splendor mist
In natures wondrous bounty true
This peaceful daylight tryst

The waters cool upon my skin
A midday sun does shine
In shadows cast of dancing limbs
Of daydreams I do climb

Naked in this hidden place
Among the shining stone
I hear the mountain waters rush
And feel I’m not alone

The faintest whisper calls to me
My name I soon do hear
As now the girl with chocolate hair
Before my eyes appears

With nothing but a robe of white
She smiles tenderly
One foot she places in the pond
My waiting eyes do see

Her robe now lying on the ground
The beauty of her skin
Her silhouette against the sun
I beckon her come in

She loves the feel the water brings
It starts her mind a flow
Out here among the vibrant green
In natures perfect show

In silent swim without a sound
Upon the surface glide
Until she finds her way to me
Now right here by my side

Her lips so full and red like wine
A hint of amethyst
I stare her deeply in the eyes
And then a tender kiss

My arms they reach to hold her tight
So close I need her near
To feel the beating of her heart
Within the waters clear

So quietly we listen to
The sounds the forest brings
Flowing winds and waterfalls
And birds about who sing

Here in our mountain paradise
With skies so clear above
We share these moments that we live
Within each other's love

Dalya holds
the tall glass
of coffee
at the bar
looking round
the café

Ravensburg
I’ve marked it
on my map
she utters
just to see
where we've been
on this trip

I sip beer
looking in
the mirror
opposite
my hair's long
so's my beard
my eyes tired

long way yet
I tell her
there's Denmark
there's Sweden
and Norway

she thinks of
all the sights
on the way
through Europe

I think of
all the stops
all the bars

the shared nights
the hot ***
in the tent
on the thin
sleeping bed

the mornings
waking up
a bird song
from outside
and she there
still sleeping
by my side.

to be the first person,
singular
to write of
one's experience,
the essence of
life's own blood,
the pulse of people
coursing through
the constricted byways
of coronary cities,
the exclusive cancer
of cliques
voracious, feeding
on those around them,
to observe
humanity
with a certifiable,
clinical detachment
without use
of the interminable,
insufferable
first person
singular.

The sun still below the trees,
Morning insects in full brigade
Buzz and bite our ears and face.
Walking a staggered formation,
Our eyes every where.
No one talks, we only stare,
Grim faced and scared.

"198 days and a wake up",
Keeps running through my head.
The air always, so thick and damp,
Lays like a wet blanket on my lungs,
Every breath takes more effort.
The Corpsman assures me,
"take some aspirin" I'd be fine.
Man, I hate this ******* place!

There are moments,
When beauty can be seen,
When the population
Viewed from a distance,
Seems less threatening.

If only their sing song high pitched
speech did not grate on my ears,
Like ******* finger nails raked,
Repeatedly cross a black board,
In forward and reverse!

The kids are kind of cute,
But always with a
Hand in your pocket.
Hell, even they got to live,
It's merely their Rice Bowl
Needing a fix.

I often wonder what this place,
might be like without the war.
How different it would be.
Maybe some kind of Paradise.
What the **** are we even doing here?
It's a complete ******* mystery to me.
No one ever bothered to ask my opinion,
I'm only a lowly grunt, not entitled to one.
A ground pounder with a *******.
Counting the days 'till I ******' split.

Emerging from the trees and tall grass,
Steps down into warm water and mud.
Another ******* rice paddy!
My feet are ****, always wet and sore.
My thighs and crotch forever in rash.
****, I do so hate this place.
"Hundred ninety eight days and a wake up,
On the Freedom Bird, back to the world."
Forever a mantra in my brain.

The ******* bordom is almost as
bad as the fear of being in the ****.
Those times are fleeting, over quick.
The rest is routine, a grind to endure.
Seems endless 'cause it ******* is!

Like the sharp crack of a whip,
One snaps past my ear!
Coming then like a swarm of Bees,
Announced by that God awful,
Chatter those A-Ks put out.
*** holes and elbows dispersed,
All of us on the run, looking for cover.
They got us boxed in cross fire,
No place to run, no spot to hide.
Hunker down in the mud,
Throw out some rounds,
And kiss your *** goodbye!

Return fire as best we can,
Spray the trees where we reckoned they be.
Mortars' now, crash and splash!
Earth erupts and mud explodes.
Some guy down the line screams in pain.
Dear God I hate this ******* place!

Do you ******* hear me God?
198 days and a wake up call,
And I'm out of here!
**** I'm only 19,
I ain't no martyr and don't wanna' be!

The tree of life grows in a graveyard-
With my hands around the air,
I imagine you over there-
Sitting under the branches,
inhaling abuse
and
exhaling cursive.

Lovely Tours
Miriam
says to me
maybe we
can look round
you and me

sure
I say

and so when
the coach stops
we get out
and wander
keeping close
to others
from our coach

the hippie
couple there
out in front
he bearded
with a band
round his head
and his girl
with long hair
hanging loose
both smoking

Miriam
takes my hand
her own hand
small and warm
pulse going
her red hair
all tight curls
her bright eyes
over me

isn't it
exciting?

I don't do
exciting
I just look
and take in
and enjoy
I tell her

we walk on
through the streets
look in shops
look at stuff

she holds things
in her hands
handles them
values them

like last night
in the coach
in Paris

lying down
in our seats
us kissing
her fingers
exploring
my hot crotch

my fingers
spidering
up her thigh
as music
on the coach
radio
eases out
Beethoven’s
piano piece
concerto
number 5
or such like

and she's there
holding me

my fingers
spidering
to her nest

lights dim low
music flows
down the rows
of coach seats

some sleeping
some talking
some of us
making out
best we can
in dim light
in Paris
over night.

You heard my words,
you stung my soul
you turned away
while I loved you forever...

The nights were long
as you sat there staring
you reached for me
you knew, I would love you forever ....

Our hands would meet
Lips would part
my heart would sing
yes I loved you forever ....

The darkness would part
the daylight brought forth
the words of truth, I told you
I will love you forever....

Debbie Brooks, 2014

I have spilled endless words,
reconfigured them in different ways,
trying to explain this existence,
things like love
& heartbreak
& these raw
intense
moments
that never go away.
So I'll try
crying out your name,
play kissing you,
alone in the dark
& wonder
if you feel me,
yet again.