#brook
A flow so eloquent,
it almost explains the reasons
behind unspoken meanings
and blaring untruths.
A voice for the mysteries of my universe.
Even though it trips in gait,
and speaks in babbles.
Jun 1, 2023
Jun 1, 2023 at 2:26 PM UTC
I stay hidden in shady woods,
As my world is filled with dark;
My world is filled with hawk...
I search for happiness...
I couldn't find any light;
Yet, I flow as a brook...
To find my role in this life...
Sep 29, 2020
Sep 29, 2020 at 11:28 AM UTC
Doting words soothe
Like the whisper of a brook.
With love, spoken,
My heart they took.
Jul 11, 2020
Jul 11, 2020 at 8:02 AM UTC
The leaf latched onto the thin branch near the brook.
But even leaves, as simple as they are, know when to let go and trust the wind to take them.
Apr 29, 2019
Apr 29, 2019 at 8:53 PM UTC
And on some days
I just can't write.
I skim through pages
and
scribble my name a thousand times
and
End up realising,
I just can't write.
My diaries and notebooks lie open,
Blank,
White.
I look at my own words
and
End up realising,
I just can't write.
I stumble upon words
And fall insides holes of oxymorons,
And I end up realising,
my name and writing together are also an oxymoron.
I look for inspirations and motivations
But end up realising,
I just can't write.
I personify my emotions,
Add similes to my feelings,
Just like a heart broken by love does.
But I still end up realising,
I just can't write.
I read poems and stories
Of writers who could write,
Feeling, maybe someday even I would be able to.
I battle with metaphors
and
Scratch the onomatopoeias,
I injure the meanings
and
Spill my thoughts through my veins.
I shout " Alohamora " to my heart a million times.
I trace through the lines of the endings of my stories.
I try to go on like the brook forever,
and
I hear the voice of the solitary reaper in the daffodil fields.
Yet, as the day ends,
I end up realising,
I just can't write.
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 9:12 AM UTC
The clouds he welcomed,
and let them play
While the sun descended
to kiss his rugged make
The winds would rage
yet come to him
as a petted bovine
tamed at whim
Like a ***** giant
stood the mountain tall,
in brooding silence
as he towered above all
Then the rains came, and
brought a stranger home
She was none like them
yet she seemed their own
In her winding bends
the mountain heard
the frenzied beats
of a heart so stirred
As the brook looked up
and the mountain down
she found calm
and him, storms found
The clouds he asked
how he could move
and mustered his will
for a measure of stoop
She looked at him
with a drowning feel
clutching at her banks
and digging in her heels
The bend showed up
like an eternal curse
carrying the aching brook
like a solemn hearse
One last time
she looked back at thee
the one she killed
in setting free
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 11:29 PM UTC
Your love is like a flowing brook
Like an autumn leaf, am I
Now I am carried away
Without hopes or dreams
And the soft murmur of your being
Is the sweetest thing I hear everyday
Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 4:19 AM UTC
Earlier I had a look,
To a beautiful brook,
But day by day and night by night,
As the sands of time passed by,
The brook turned into a gigantic cry,
With water ***** black and plants did die,
And humans wanted a overfly.
It took thirty seconds to cross that bridge,
But many years for that brook to come beneath bridge.
That thirty seconds gave me a look,
How intelligently we drained that brook.
That's why I say humans are great crook.
Earlier I had a look,
To a beautiful brook.
Now I look it again,
That horrible sight gives me pain,
Again and again more pain I gain.
That sight keeps flashing in my mind,
And broke my dream of utopian world,
Now I believe my dream was inert.
That bridge was sign of developed human civilisation,
What faces of ours will be portrayed to our advanced future generation.
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 11:29 PM UTC
*What would I give for a nook and a book
to cuddle and snuggle and longingly look
the pages unfolding as I listened to
the babbling song of a fast flowing brook.
Oh, if it had pictures, a faraway place,
mysterious villains, a dark alley chase
I’d pick up the phone I’d call in sick
disappear in the mist, leaving no trace.
What would I do to be captured by words
impressed into service by pirates with swords,
adrift without wind, current silently slow
half crazed crew pacing the sun-baked dried boards.
Perhaps of an evening a stroll on the beach
salt, surf, and moonlight on ebony skin
passion full sated on cooling soft sand
last dream of the shanghaied seagoing men.
What would I give for a storybook nook
I’d offer it all the time that it took
to take me away to wherever it would
leave me enraptured by a murmuring brook.*
Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 9:18 AM UTC
Beside a brook of rippling dreams,
I watch the golden sunlight beams.
They frolic on the silver foam,
as I do sing and dance to roam.
And fish shall glide inside grand style,
to drift and yes they’ll stay a while.
Before they disappear in light.
The fish they are a sacred sight.
A peaceful place I found at stream.
It makes for a great peaceful scene.
So mediate I will this day.
I echo gratitude to pray.
With rock in hand I’ll toss to wish,
inside this day I will feel bliss.
To swim and hear the birds sing strong.
Inside of love, I can’t do wrong.
And with my dreams I will touch sky
and question not inside a sigh.
The sun and brook gives power light.
I know my life will be alright.
StarBG © 2017
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 5:43 PM UTC
The bubbling brook flows
softly in the silken wind
like shadows of smoke.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
dormant memories.
the cool brook,
gurgles on and on-
memoirs of an age
to always be.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 2:38 PM UTC
I'm going to write a sonnet
About love, desperate attempt and jealousy
He walks like wind, wind from Grand Canyon
He talks like honey, honey sweeter than Canaan
His brows spread like hawk
His eyes streams like spring brook
What do I love about him?
Oh, nothing particularly
Maybe it's the way he listens
How his face glows with glistens
Maybe it's his passion
Enlighten my dark age prison
O captain My captain, sail me through tempest amid my heart
Guide me through the time we are apart
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 11:54 PM UTC
Kelly Brook
Mistook
A book
For a hook.
Went fishing with
Alanis Morissette
And Anneka Rice.
Caught a complete set
Of Encyclopaedia Britannicas.
Popped it in the keep-net
And mused,
This really is a landmark
Of informational literature
But is rather wet
So not easily used.
I think I'll stick
To the Internet.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 2:53 PM UTC